Published in Yogi Times, 2009
Do you remember Junior High? The highs and lows of each day, each hour, each minute. The insecurities and embarrassments. Oh, the drama of the newly evolving self! I suspect most of us were not at all sure we would survive. Would you have taken a yoga class then? Would you have liked it?? A few years ago I taught yoga to the 6th, 7th, and 8th grades at a public junior high school in San Francisco. It proved to be both a lot of fun, and a Challenge which caused me to grow and stretch myself in more ways than just the yoga postures. I retrospect, I definitely had no idea what I was in for before taking this on.
I particularly wanted to work with this age group for many reasons. I feel that this age group is at a pivotal time in their personal development. It is a time when social and societal pressures are beginning to mount, and our individual sense of ourselves is still fragile. I feel that a lot of unconscious decisions are made, about whether to follow one’s heart, or succumb to the pressures of the people and society around us. ” Do I do what I want, or what people expect of me?” If those two possibilities are at odds, it is very difficult to stick to one’s self. As a result, it is potentially a very fruitful time to introduce the practices of yoga and meditation. The foundation of these practices includes cultivating greater self-sufficiency, and a compassionate attitude toward oneself–the ability to, “be your own best friend”. What better time to begin than when one’s sense of oneself is newly formed, still fragile, and in need of reassurance?
The challenges began before the class even started. I hoped to teach only the kids who truly wanted to do yoga, and to teach them outside of the normal school day. Well, the school had a different idea. They were so excited about the possibilities of yoga, and how it could make their kids calm, reflective, and easy to manage that they wanted all of the kids exposed to yoga. Perhaps this was the answer they had long been searching for to their discipline problems. Let me add, just to clarify, that I had not promised them any of this. I knew better than that. The current climate around yoga was enough to convince them that it was a cure-all, and worth a shot. I tried (in vain) to explain that I thought leaving me alone with 35 co-ed teenagers for an hour was unlikely to be a panacea for their discipline issues. In fact, I personally thought it would be more like a potential discipline nightmare, something akin to driving a school bus full of kids down a slick icy road with no seat belts, steep cliffs on each side, and it would be me who was at the steering wheel.
So I began my adventure by teaching 35 co-ed 8th grade students their gym class one day a week. As one might expect, the response was mixed. I mean, naturally yoga isn’t for everyone. Some kids would definitely rather be playing basket ball. After the first class, one of the 8th grade teachers had the lightning stroke idea to ask the kids to write down their feelings about the class. This was the most delightfully raw and alive feedback I have ever received. Their responses ranged from, “I hate yoga”, to, “it made me feel sleepy”, “Yoga was fun”, and. “it let my mind drift off into a deeper consciousness”. As I sifted through the papers, I began to split them into stacks of, “I hate yoga”, “I don’t care”, and “I love yoga”. When I was done I had three almost exactly even stacks-10 hated it, 11 didn’t care, and 9 loved it. And 7 weeks to go.
One of my greatest fears when I began to teach yoga was, “What if they won’t do what I tell them to?” I had a very clear and elaborate scenario of what this would look like. I would be standing in front of the room, teaching a yoga pose. I would demonstrate it, guide them through it, and then it would be their turn. But they wouldn’t do it. Not one. In fact, they wouldn’t even pay attention to me. They would be blatantly ignoring me. They would be talking amongst themselves, rolling around on the floor doing their own stretches, reading a romance novel, or maybe even walking out the door in disgust and boredom. Perhaps every teacher has this fear. Once I began to teach I realized that most adults are so eager to do what I ask that sometimes I wished they would think a little more about what I am asking them to do before they went ahead and did it.
With kids, it’s another story. My worst nightmare became reality. Therewere always a few who wouldn’t do it. Uh-oh. What happens now?!? Initially, I felt my mind and body grip at this possibility–I was losing control of the class! But then an amazing thing happened. I began to relax. I took a deep breath. It began to not matter so much. I took it much less personally. I realized their inaction was not about me, but about them. It was an opportunity for them to assert themselves, to express their individual will through rebellion and defiance. Having faced my worst teaching nightmare and survived, I actually became more self-assured, and over all a better teacher. I was less concerned with whether my students liked me, and more able to meet them.
I remembered one time when I was training to be a yoga teacher, we weresplit into small groups to practice teaching one another. I did my best to giveinstruction to my classmates. I was only moderately successful. The classteacher came over to me and she said, “Make them do it!” At first this wasshocking. It did not sound like something I wanted to do. I did not want toforce anyone to do anything. And then I heard her words in a different way.I began to understand what she meant. Gradually resourcefulness kicked in.I explored using my language, my tone of voice, my whole being to cajole,challenge, invite, require, and playfully demand them to participate. It wasterrifying, and very empowering. I became more fully alive, more deeplyparticipating in the dance of life.
((When working with kids these qualities of aliveness and dancing with thesituation became even more apparent. It is most important to be bothprepared to teach a lesson plan, having a clear idea of what you want toconvey, and to be ready for anything, very much in the present moment.This is the truth of teaching yoga anyway, and perhaps the truth of life. Onlyit is heightened with kids. They will test the limits as few adults will. As Imentioned, there are ways in which the kids made me a better teacher overall. Their challenges to my authority taught me to both go to them to gaintheir trust, and to be simple, clear, and direct. It became apparent that it wasequally important to set requirements for them, to make them come to me.And this is the dance of teaching–when does the teacher go to the students,and when does she insist the students come to her?))
Teaching teens was a constant mirror for my self-image. Anyone who hastaught may well have realized the potency of it as a practice of self-reflection. With kids this is intensified. To quote a good friend, “There ismuch less filter between their mind and their mouth.”They mostly say whatthey are thinking. And what they want. I had some very honest conversations with them as a result. This is the opinion of a couple of sixthgraders:
“We hate yoga”
“Oh really? What do you hate about it?”
“Well, it’s not really that we hate yoga. And we don’t hate you. You’re okay,really. No offense intended. (How kind of them to re-assure me!) We would just rather be playing soccer. So we hate yoga because it’s the reason we’re not playing soccer.” What could I say? I understood their point.
But there were also those who loved it. And their gratitude was apparent,often without words. They smiled. They were focused. They really tried todo the poses. Their joy and enthusiasm showed even as those around themrebelled. And that is the magic of teaching yoga–the radiant heart feltconnection of transmitting something that is wordless, speechless,undefined, and delightful. Once it has been experienced, it can never betaken away from those who experienced it.
“I CAN’T DO THAT!”
How many times did I hear this statement? Kids these days are stiff. Mostkids cannot easily bend over and touch their toes. After the first class, manycomplained of soreness. “Couldn’t we do warm-ups first?” In my opinion, Ihad done warm-ups. But to humor them, and out of my own curiosity, Iasked what warm-ups would look like to them. A student showed me thearm swings he did for basketball practice. I decided not to go there. I stuckto my own program. I knew what I was teaching was not difficult, though itwas causing them to feel their bodies differently than they were used to.Rather than change my lesson plan, I thought of another way to address theissue of, “I can’t do that”. When I began to hear a lot of voices saying this, Iasked them to slow down. Breathe. I suggested they not push themselves sohard. As I watched them do the poses, it occurred to me that it was true,there was a place where they could not do it. But at the same time, there wasa place where they could do it. I knew this because I was seeing them do itright there in front of me. Each in his or her own way. I pointed this out tothem, and encouraged them not to worry about what they could not do. Thiswas the mind speaking. Don’t be confused or distracted by it. Instead, just dowhat you can do. Focus on what you CAN do, rather than what is difficultfor you at this time. That is all that matters right now. This was a decidedly new and strange idea to them. They seemed to settle down some after this.Perhaps they were merely shocked into silence. Or maybe it was their turn tohumor me.
When teaching kids yoga, don’t be surprised if their poses look strangerthan you ever imagined possible. Try not to correct them unless you thinkthey really might harm themselves. As an Iyengar instructor, I was trained tobe a precise and critical teacher. With kids, I feel it’s more important to letthem do it their own way. Let them enjoy it and play with it, rather than getcaught up in doing it right. They are naturally more connected to their bodiesthan most adults, and thus are less likely to harm themselves. Over time asthey repeat the pose they will begin to come into a better alignment. Makethe class more about having fun and playing than about learning anything inparticular. Kids are forced to learn so much with their brains. As humanbeings, we learn through all our senses, all the time. Learning is completelyintuitive and happens spontaneously. One of the delights of yoga is that ithelps us to re-integrate our senses, bringing our awareness back into thebody. We regain this innate ability to learn through every action when wepractice yoga. The kids will pick up on this wordlessly.
Related to this, I found that teaching series of poses was particularlysatisfying to the teens. I began by breaking down a series, teaching theindividual poses. Then we put the series together. As the weeks passed, thekids became more familiar with it, and it became easier for them. By theend of our time together, there was complete silence and total focus whenwe did the Chandra Namaskar series from beginning to end. It was truly amoving meditation. The Surya Namaskar series was more demanding andhigh energy. This brought cheers of accomplishment when we finished tenrounds. Keeping the class physical held their attention. And throwing acurve ball every now and then added excitement. By this I mean tossing in asurprise pose which was not necessarily very hard to do, but whichmade them stop, look, and think–bhekasana was a hit again and again. Or play with the -speed. This is something my teacher-being truly a child at heart–likes to do. And it works very well. Suddenly speed things up. Or slow them down. Keep `em guessing. Include some games, or a pose they can do safely in pairs.
SOCKS & SHOES
Shortly after starting the first class I asked the kids to take off their socks and shoes–a basic step in most yoga classes. There was an eruption of protests, and a firestorm of controversy started. This was huge! I had no idea. Myself, I am a barefoot nature girl. Always have been. I took my shoes off for any possible reason in junior high, as at any other time of my life. So I was unprepared for the drama which resulted when I asked the class to take off their socks and shoes. I just could not relate to what their protests were all about. When I asked what the problem was their reasons covered a vast range, including, “My feet are ugly, my feet are dirty, my feet smell, my socks are dirty, the floor is dirty, the floor is cold, I have fungus, people will see my feet, people will see my socks, I have holes in my socks, I feel weird…” I decided to do a little field research to try and resolve this issue, and cut the drama. I began to ask my friends–all of whom were teenagers once–how they felt about being barefoot in school at that age. Many of my friends felt similarly to me. But then I was talking about this with a male friend of mine who grew up on Long Island. Oddly enough, he could understand the kids. “My sneakers were my identity”, he said, “I remember what they looked like to this day”. This gave me some insight. And I began to understand. Taking their shoes off was a revealing, a removing of the outer layer of protection, of the mask. Our feet are vulnerable. Our toes are ugly and wrinkled. There’s almost always at least one of them that is small and squished. It is like revealing the hidden parts of our personality which we are ashamed of, and prefer to hide. Because of the level of drama it provoked, I decided to make taking off socks and shoes optional.
CLOTHES & SEX
How I dressed was also the source of much drama. Initially I decided to wear leggings and a long sleeve shirt. I felt it was more modest than my normal leggings and tank top outfit, but still an appropriate outfit for a yoga instructor. I quickly realized that even revealing that modest amount of my body form was a major distraction for the boys. Eventually I switched to wearing loose fitting cotton pants. Having resolved the fashion issue, I still felt there was an issue to be addressed here. The boys’ preoccupation with my appearance was a noticeable distraction. At first I just wanted to stay away from the issues of bodies, sexuality, and appearance. Again I turned to the resource of my male friends. In general they agreed with me that it should be addressed, but they shied away from just how that might happen. I began to realize that I had an opportunity to set a standard for acceptable behavior. There was a way in which the boys were in need of discipline and also to be taught how to treat a woman that is not only socially acceptable but also respectful toward and of her. I became determined to stop them in their tracks and teach them what is acceptable to me in a non critical manner. I made it very clear that I did not have a problem with my body or my appearance. I was careful with the poses I taught to stay away from movements that could be interpreted as sexual. And yet I could not predict their response. What went by without a hitch in one class might cause a notable reaction in another. It happened more than once that after demonstrating a pose, I stood up to find the male half of the class rolling on the floor with laughter. The girls as mystified as myself by their reaction. I felt it was important to have zero tolerance for this sort of reaction, and carry on.
SILENCE, CHIMES, AND OM
I chose what my priorities would be. I let barefoot be optional, but insisted on not talking. Of course this rule was broken many times. And with 35 kids with widely varying levels of interest, we spent a lot of time waiting for people to be quiet. But I decided this was a significant part of yoga class, and continued to require stillness. It was here that the varying interest levels became more apparent. Those who would rather be elsewhere had little motive to stop talking. And yet, as we progressed through the series of classes, they learned to be silent. At the end of class we would sit silently in meditation, and simply listen. In the stillness, the sounds of the school around us became apparent. The murmur of other children in a distant room was heard softly, the scraping of a chair on the floor in a classroom over our heads, the hum of the lights, the ticking of the clock on the wall, even breathing could be heard at these times. I believe we would have heard a pin had it been dropped then. Sometimes I would bring some chimes, and ask the kids to listen closely for when the sound stopped after I rang them. They quickly became focused around this sort of meditation. Equally effective, and perhaps more fun was the sound of OM. After they recovered from their initial shyness, the kids really enjoyed chanting. A legitimate opportunity to make noise! One day, as I finished teaching the 7th graders, the 8th grade stood outside the gym, waiting for their class to begin. We ended the class with an OM. As the sound died down, we heard the 8th grade OM as well they had spontaneously joined us from where they stood in the hallway.
THE EYES ARE THE KEY TO THE SOUL
I found that eye contact is very important with kids. When we lost eye contact, for example in forward bends, we lost discipline. Kids really respond to eye contact. There are often a few kids who attract, and require, more attention. As a result, others receive less attention. And often those who get less attention are actually more focused and are participating more fully in the class. An unfortunate irony. But I found that by simply making eye contact with a child, they responded. They felt included. It was also effective in terms of discipline. Direct unmistakable eye contact was enough to stop kids acting out, at least for awhile.
My question to myself became, how can I maintain discipline without threats, and over all maintain a positive environment. It was a challenge to say the least. In this culture, we most often maintain discipline with youth through intimidation—it may be subtle or obvious, but it is still intimidation. In my experience, this is a very unconscious habit which comes out of our small self fears, our sense of insecurity. What would life be like if we did not do this? What would our society, our world be like if the adults had enough self assurance to assert themselves with confidence and compassion in such a way that it inspired youth, rather than instigating rebellion? Not that we can remove all of the rebellion from youth. This would be unnatural. But we can engage it, skillfully, and recognize it for what it is— the newly formed self asserting itself. We do not need to react to this. In fact, reaction only perpetuates it.
Yoga and meditation have taught me a lot about discipline. I myself was a rebellious teen, and have tended to be a rebellious sort of person. As a result for much of my life I shied away from the idea of discipline, thinking it oppressive and unnecessary. Over the years of maintaining practices of yoga and meditation, my views have changed. I have begun to feel discipline is the foundation for our lives. It is what allows us to be independent, to have a sense of our own integrity, to express our unique creativity, and to lead a fruitful life. How we are disciplined from a young age lays a foundation for how we will treat ourselves as we grow. Thus it is of utmost importance to maintain discipline in a compassionate, wise, and genuine manner. I hoped to convey a positive message about discipline and authority to the teens.
Throughout the course of the school year I contemplated my memories of those who had been teachers for me in the area of discipline. What came to mind were images of people simply being fully present with the situation, as it was, with no need to control the outcome. My strongest memory is of Thich Nhat Hanh, the Vietnamese Buddhist monk. Thay, as he is called, likes to have children near him. He invites children to be at the center of things. One time he had invited a child to come and sing a song over a microphone. The child came over to Thay, took the microphone from his hand, and sat down next to him. And then it seems that he got frightened. There were several hundred of us there, people of all ages, from all over the world. It would have been a daunting situation for me, that’s for sure. We all were in the woods at Plum village. Out for a walk together. Everyone was silent. We were not waiting. We were simply there, all together. Thay’s presence and manner were the guide for the experience. After several minutes, he spoke to the child. And then another child came and sang a song. The lesson for me in this event was that nothing was wrong. It made no difference that this little boy decided not to sing. One thing was as good as another. The sense of judgement, or right and wrong, was completely absent. Things simply were as they were. This memory has stayed with me for years now. And I called upon it many times during that year, when I found myself with 35 co-ed teenagers who would not be orderly when I thought they should. When I began to feel that I was responsible for the situation and it just was not how I had imagined it. Sometimes I even remembered to take a deep breath, and let go.
Recently I received some photographs of the kids which were taken during yoga class by a teacher at the school. I looked at them a few times, happy to see their faces again. Then I put the pictures away, not thinking much more about it. One day I showed them to a friend. Immediately she said, “They look like they are having a great time!” I looked again at the pictures. And it is true, the kids are smiling, laughing, playing …having fun. Being kids. I breathed a sigh of relief. What I remember most is how I was not at all sure I would survive.