Being a Teacher

I almost never forget how lucky I am to be a teacher.

This Fall at the university I have floated out of class on most days. The bliss of teaching this term has to do with the chemistry of the student classes that I have, the energy they bring to one another and to me, the intentions I set, the moment-to-moment recalibration of that intention throughout our time together. The ways we stay connected throughout the week (we do much of our class discussions and writing online) keep the students paying attention to one another, and much of this energy comes from them, from their motivation. But there is a new kind of connection to this work that tells me I may come honestly by my knowledge, my pedagogy. In other words, now more than ever, I believe myself when I teach.

This year in my yoga teaching I have thoroughly felt the humility of witnessing all of my students holding a pose at once, watching their faces tense and soften as they negotiate strength with effort and peace of mind, extending to them nurturing energy as they close their practice in Savasana. When I invite them to soften the breath, bellies soften, too. And when I ease them back into the day, they follow the sound of my voice and gently awaken the body. I do not take this honor for granted. I treasure the blessing of a teacher, too.

I do not know if I have loved through my teaching before this year. I think I have tried... But these days, my teaching is on the other side of a barrier that was primarily built out of ego. The ego is still there, yes...but I think I have gathered wisdom that helps me to connect the teaching to matters outside of the classroom, to myself, to my own teachers, back to the students. The teaching — of university undergraduates and of yogis — has become more relevant. More raw. Less studied. More human.

My mentor told me a few years ago, when I was feeling still so new to academia (even after six years of teaching and many years as a graduate student) that the wisdom couldn't come sooner than experience would allow it.

And still I know that I have much to learn.

But I think often about the cultivation of ethos through time and experience and integrative reflection, and it occurs to me that much of the ethos we're trying to create for our students, our colleagues, our customers, our supervisors (whomever it may be) is actually about creating ethos for ourselves as our own audiences. That is, we begin to see ourselves as having a unique, important impact, perhaps, when we see how our own teaching has taught us.

And we know, of course, that it is easy to teach and not to follow our own lesson. So very much harder to practice what we teach. The latter I am just beginning to do. These days.

In the heart of my heart, I know that being a mother has had everything to do with this change.