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I have been humbled many times in my 15 years of teaching. There were times when no one showed up to class or I forgot my turn, but those experiences knocked my ego out of me. But the most humiliating situation I ever faced was when I became a teacher, repeatedly watching class attendance plummet to single digits.
Shortly after graduating from my first yoga teacher training, I started subbing at the studio where I practiced. It was a donation-based studio, and the most popular teacher on the schedule regularly taught groups of over 100 people in each class. Around the block were lines of chatty students waiting to be squeezed into old, musty studios like sweaty sardines. I loved taking the mat-to-mat class, but I loved teaching it even more. It was refreshing to have space for so many people.
I didn’t have to wait very long and was lucky enough to take over as a teacher in a class with pretty good attendance. The first few times I taught, we had big numbers in the class. And the number of participants dropped sharply.
I didn’t understand what it meant. People seemed to enjoy it when I appeared in place of a popular teacher. My students told me how “awesome” the class was and asked when I could schedule it. I simply thought the new persistent class would draw a similar size.
However, feedback varied widely when it came to weekly classes. My students wanted something different than what I was teaching them. I know this because they told me. One person explained that even though he came for Thai food, he left feeling like he had been served pizza.
It took me almost a year to understand why. When I was a substitute, especially when I had just finished my teacher training, I would try to walk through the class like the person I was substitute. However, when teaching my own classes, I sought to teach in a way that I recently learned at yoga school. Not only was my teaching style different from what was popular at this studio, but my entire ethos was also different.
For example, at the studio where I started practicing and teaching, it was common for students to quickly move through a series of poses on one leg, then work on the other leg. The sequence also includes balancing transitions between various stance rotation poses, such as moving from Ardha Chandrasana (Half Moon Pose) to Virabhadrasana 3 (Warrior 3). However, I learned in training that there were potential risks to some of these choices and started excluding these transitions from my practice, and my lower back pain subsided and I was able to hold poses longer and with more concentration. Now you can continue.
I wasn’t criticizing other styles or teachers. My body and mind simply wanted me to teach them something different than what was “popular” at that studio. When I realized this, I found myself in the middle of an identity crisis.
I’m not one to quit easily, so even as I grew older and became more confident in my teaching style, I continued to teach classes at the studio. At first, I doubted myself and even changed the way I taught to make my class more similar to everyone else’s, hoping to please my students. But the misalignment that seemed to result could not be ignored or ignored. And the result was always the same. I resented the situation, but the class still didn’t grow.
2 steps forward, 1 step back
After becoming more established at other studios and amassing a regular following of students teaching a style that was authentic to me, I finally let go of that class. But for years afterward, a part of me always felt like I had let myself, my students, and my studio manager down by not being able to make it work.
When I moved from Los Angeles to San Francisco, I had to start over and felt like I was suddenly transported back to my early days as a new teacher. Popular time slots fell apart within weeks of me taking over, and I was consciously deciding whether to continue with my teaching style or mold myself into the style of yoga that seemed to be preferred in this new city. I had to choose.
Just like when I first started teaching, I felt like a fraud every time I changed the way I taught to please people and gather a larger audience. My energy was depleted, my mood became sad, and my enthusiasm for teaching lost its luster.
Then my teacher, Maiti Ezraty, came to town to host a workshop. The teacher preferred silence when she was discussing the business of yoga, but someone asked if she needed to play music in class to attract more students. Ezrati answered by asking all of us, “Do you want to be popular or do you want to teach yoga?” She was looking right at me, she swears.
It wasn’t until that moment that I realized that every time I taught in a way that I thought would make people happy, I was sacrificing my authenticity to get the acceptance I wanted. That one question of hers opened my mind and completely changed the way I approached those situations.
I don’t think Maity said this in the sense that it had to be one or the other. I know many people who have good attendance and are real teachers. I think what she meant (at least how I interpreted it) was, “Are you willing to sell your soul to bring in more students?” And no matter how much I wanted a fulfilling class, deep within me, the answer screamed out from me: “Hell no!”
how it’s happening
You may feel discouraged if your choices seem to work against you. It could also be a financial blow to yoga teachers, who rent space to teach and receive compensation based on the number of students in their classes. You may need to survive to maintain class popularity. It’s not necessarily ego.
When I stopped trying to give my students what they wanted and instead focused on authentic instruction, my classes started getting higher numbers. There are still no lines outside the studio for my classes, and probably never will. But when I committed to being my authentic self, I was able to consistently attract students who wanted to learn the way I wanted to teach. I was also able to leave class feeling energized and inspired, rather than exhausted and deflated.
Currently, I am very clear about the teacher I want to be, and even after having two children and entering my 40th year on this earth, my style continues to evolve. Do I still long for a full class and a few dozen Zoom participants? Of course. He’s human. But I would much rather teach yoga that feels true to me.
Related: What to do if you panic during yoga instruction
About contributors
Sarah Ezrin is a mom, world-renowned yoga educator, popular Instagram influencer, and published author. parenting yoga. Her unabashed honesty and vulnerability, along with her innate wisdom, make her writing, yoga classes, and social media a great source of healing and inner peace for many. Based in the San Francisco Bay Area, Sarah is changing her world, teaching self-love one person at a time. You can follow her on Instagram at @sarahezrinyoga and on TikTok at @sarahezrin.
