Opening night

Last night I taught my first public yoga class, for which I will be paid $35. It was at a local gym and I had a whopping 1 (one) person in the class: an older Indian woman who told me that she is "very much beginner level." When it became clear that it was going to be a private class for her I was momentarily tempted to offer to take her for an ice cream cone rather than doing the class, but thought better of it and instead asked her if she had any requests or anything in particular she wanted to work on. She just smiled and said she liked stretching. Sweet.

I have practiced teaching quite a bit, both with classmates in my training and also with a few very patient friends. The class I practice-taught on Monday evening, my last dress rehearsal, if you will, was probably my worst ever. I was calling for my lines, scene changes were slow and awkward, and the audience was clearly restless and crabby by the end (note to self: yoga right before dinner should always start with a pre-Om snack to maintain sufficient blood sugar). But I was optimistic about this first public class, remembering from my days in the theatre (read: junior high school) that when the last dress rehearsal is a total disaster you are almost guaranteed to have a flawless opening night.

Flawless it wasn't, but no one collapsed, cried or walked out. More than anything else, yoga is about breathing and that is pretty much what we did. She and I spent an hour breathing together and "stretching." It was great.

After the class I asked her what she thought and if she had any feedback for me. She smiled a lovely smile and thanked me for the class, saying it had been wonderful. She was so appreciative of the class I wanted to hug her. And though I was again tempted to offer to take her for ice cream, I just thanked her and said I would see her on Thursday for the next class.