A teacher-y thing

Tags

arthritis, Asana, balasana, belly dancing, carpal tunnel, gut instinct, mis-matched socks, modified asana, observation skills, sun salutations, teacher-y thing, Yoga, yoga teaching

Apparently there’s this teacher-y thing that happens when one starts teaching yoga. Which I didn’t notice until I’d taught my first class. Teaching is a doing and a demonstrating activity, but also requires observation skills and an ability to translate what is observed into words and actions. Teaching relies on gut instinct, too.

I did a spot of teaching belly dancing about six years ago, but I never really noticed it then. This teacher-y thing.

And so far, I’ve had a grand total of five bods through the door in two different classes (if you remember, no one showed up to the first class!). Not a lot, but seems like that’s enough to get things going.

Had a bit of a plan for last Saturday’s class, based on some of what I’d observed my students doing the previous one. Not that I can expect too many repeat customers. I do have one though. She came back this week and I was excited to see her! Also, this week I had a guy join the class, all coughing fits and mis-matched socks and truckloads of concentration that prompted me to say: Soften the face, the belly, the arms, the hands, the heart…

I don’t ask where these people come from exactly. I know they or their social worker or someone has read an ad placed in various drop in centres around St Kilda on my behalf. I figure the rest doesn’t really matter as long as they’re happy to turn up and do a little breathing and moving with me.

So even though it wasn’t the same line up of students (I hadn’t expected it to be), my class plan was inspired by the previous class.

First part was simply planning to do less. I mean, we didn’t get through my entire class plan anyway, so it was time for a readjustment in that respect. This is a very beginner-y group, after all.

The second part was getting people to do some work at the wall. Asking them to start noticing their body a little more, and which part of the feet they’re placing their weight on. Insides? Outsides? Ball of the foot? Heel of the foot? Is one hip higher than the other? Is the spine a bit twisted? Are the shoulders rounded forward? And doing some sanding asana at the wall to really accentuate that awareness by seeing what touched the wall as they moved. Or how their weight distribution changed.

So that was cool. Then I introduced the class to sun salutations. A basic version that drops the knees to the mat and then into balasana before coming forward into upward facing dog. Gently does it with people that find down-dog and touching their toes to be challenging!

But I also had to create a REALLY modified version of sun salutes for one student (full disclosure: a friend of mine who was there to pad out the numbers). She has quite a nasty case of carpal tunnel, and also, arthritis in her toes. So too much weight on the wrists or the balls of the feet is just not good for her.

Just like Linda’s and Rachel’s recent posts on the myth of “perfect asana”, I wanted to find a way for my student/friend to experience sun salutations without all sorts of crazy pain.

What we devised between us (I needed her feedback to ensure it was doable) was sun salutations that used forearms instead of hands and kneeling instead of feet. So down dog was like balasana but with hips in the air (thighs at a 90 degree angle to the floor) and forearms reaching forward. Sphinx replaced up-dog. Transitions were on her forearms and knees, too. The rest she could manage. And as long as there was a focus on the breath and finding a flow to the movement, it worked for her just fine!

Funny thing is, she’d been to my practice classes when I was doing my teacher training and had never mentioned how much physical pain she was in. She didn’t think of explaining it to me until afterwards. She also didn’t think of not doing what the person leading the class asked her to do, regardless of her physical discomfort.

Which is interesting in itself. Students won’t always be honest about how they feel/what pain they’re in for unexplained reasons. That’s a good to know, right?

This teacher-y thing I mentioned? Well, it’s all of the above. To summarise, seems like it’s a sort of hyper-awareness of one’s students. Of what their needs might appear to be – which won’t necessarily be what is actually needed. And a responsibility to help people explore, learn more about their body and themselves in the process.

Also, I realised that mirroring (saying “take your left leg back” while demonstrating with my right) isn’t as hard as I’d previously thought. Well, sort of. As long as I look at the limb I’m talking about, I can manage to say the opposite one!

Finally, here’s something else I noticed. As a teacher, it’s very easy to infect the class with my state of mind. So, if I’m all about concentrating on saying the right things, not screwing up, and being precise… then I’ll have a very focused and probably quite tense group of people on my hands. But if I loosen up, and add in instructions like: Now take both the left and right corners of your mouth and turn them upwards…

Then they’re gonna have a bit more fun. And so will I. Yeah. 😀

~Svasti

The art of non-conversation

Tags

Adoption, Family, gut instinct, Hugh Jackman, irony, non conversation, Parental Units, spitefully angry people, whipping girl

This post grew out of a comment I left over at RB’s blog on a semi-related topic.

My rant started as a reply to her post before veering off into my own insanity:

At least you have conversations with your parents where they ask questions about you and your life…

I briefly mentioned last Sunday in my previous post.

Hadn’t seen my nieces or sister in a few weeks, and was invited over to check out the newly renovated bathroom.

Also, eldest baby niece was moving out of the cot and into her Big Girl Bed. A seminal moment in any young girl’s life, in need of witnessing for sure.

I was warned the Parental Units would be there too, but I thought that’d be okay with me. Sort of.

You see, my parents and I still haven’t moved beyond the ill-fated three months I stayed at their place last year on returning from Thailand. It was a bad mistake. Monumentally bad.

What’s worse is that neither of them are talkers. They don’t ever want to discuss things, not unless I agree to take the starring role of Whipping Girl, where they get to list all my ill-gotten faults.

And they really don’t really go in for the whole self-reflection thing…

So. We’ve had a kind of stalemate since then. To the point that when I was drowning in depression and unemployment earlier this year I didn’t hear a word from them.

It’s especially bad with mum though. She can barely contain her resentment, she can’t even look me in the eye and talks to me in this tight, pinched voice – the one she reserves for people she can’t stand.

Dad has his own passive-aggressive tendencies, but they play out quite differently. He’s still nice-ish to me, mostly. Just horribly detached.

Woke up Sunday morning and almost rang my sister to cancel. But I wasn’t sure if it was gut instinct or laziness speaking.

Turns out it was the former.

Rode le bike to the train station, got on board, only to find out several stops along that there were ‘disruptions on the line’. Buses were replacing trains most of the way.

At that point, I did ring to cancel but apparently dad offered to ‘drive me there and back’ so I could still make it for lunch. Thought that was pretty nice of him, and quite unexpected really. I had no way of knowing then, that the return trip would not only be late-ish but that they’d drop me at a train station far far away from where I’d been picked up. Nice touch, dad.

‘Course, on the trip to my sister’s place (thank goodness my older niece was in the car too), we managed some conversation. I asked him about his imminent retirement and related plans, what he’d been up to. He managed to ask me about work.

Dad: So, how’s work?

Me: Pretty boring, just like I last told you. I’m still looking for a permanent job; don’t want to end up unemployed again come December.

Dad: Yeah that was a pretty bad time.

Me: Yes, it was! [Funny you mention that since you and mum sorta ignored me the whole time…]

Well, that kinda exhausted the topic. On to talking about my nieces and my sister. Apparently, mum is giving my sister our nan’s crystal cabinet since mum already has one.

I pretty much wanted one thing of my nan’s – a tea cup, plate and saucer set. There were three sets that my nan, sister and I used to use regularly at nan’s house for tea and biscuits. It’s just one of those irreplaceable childhood memories.

Dad: We brought down the crystal cabinet for your sister. If she doesn’t want it, then we’ll just sell it on eBay and she can have the money instead.

Me: Right… so, what happened to the tea cups?

Dad: I don’t know, you’d have to ask your mother. [He *knows* about the crystal cabinet but *not* the tea cups?!!]

Me: I didn’t want anything of value. Just something that was part of my childhood memories.

At which point the topic was changed like a TV channel.

But later when everyone was sitting around, it surfaced again.

Mum: Gee, you should have said something and put them aside. I don’t know where they are now.

Somehow, my mother conveniently forgot about the conversation we had when I was helping her sort things out (nan had been moved into nursing care). She also apparently forgot that she told me to leave the cups there for now, and we’ll sort it out later.

Dad: There’s things there that belonged to your other nan [the one I wasn’t close to].

Me: That’s not the point. I have nothing of *this* nan’s now since R [uncle] has cleared the house out.

At which point the topic was changed. Again.

Conversation shifted a few times. Then, my sister mentioned a two year old-ish boy in the same playgroup as her two year old-ish daughter. And how it was extremely clear already that he’s downright-dyed-in-the-wool camp.

Mum: Well, you know Hugh Jackman is gay. He and his wife both are.

Stunned silence. In which dimension is that an appropriate response to what my sister was saying?

Right then, I hadn’t put two and two together – mum absolutely hates anyone who’s adopted a child (her firstborn was adopted against her will in the late 60’s).

Me: You just can’t say that. You don’t know for sure unless you have first-hand eye-witness evidence.

Mum: Oh, I *know*. My friend knows someone who went to school with one of them… (mumbles into silence)

I say nothing more. Why? Because you can’t argue with crazed and spitefully angry people.

Moral of the story…

My parents don’t know much about what’s going on in my world, nor do they care to enquire. They can, on-purpose, make sure I don’t get one of my nan’s tea cups.

But my mother knows for CERTAIN that Hugh Jackman is gay.

~Svasti