Teaching Yoga
It was Christmas day, yet for some strange reason I found myself teaching a Yoga class. But knowing next to nothing about the practicialities of Yoga I was doing the best I could to blag my way through...
There were about 8 or 9 people in the class and many of them seemed surprisingly old. I remember thinking how frail and weak a few of them appeared. It was also very evident that they were absolute beginners, with even less knowledge of Yoga than me; hence my apparent ability to bamboozle them with my fradulent mastery of the Yogic arts.
"Why on earth are they spending Christmas Day trying to learn Yoga from me?" I wondered, "...And at their age?"
Anyway, I continued the class, confidently conning them all with a series of flamboyant, twisty moves that sprung up from my imagination. Standing before them all I would rapidly demonstate the next maneovre, in a swift, superficial manner that allowed me not to strain mysself in anyway yet somehow implied that I couldn't be bothered to show them the precise technicalities because I found the posture far too easy; it would be beneath me to spend my time demonstrating such amateur acrobactics.
To make myself seem more convincing I laced my instructions with detailed histories explaining the origins and philospophies behing the moves...giving each posture some ludicrous, exotic title
such as "Flight of the Pink Turtle" as I demonstrated it and then explaining which muscles it worked and how it benefit their lives in ever more fantastical ways...Occasionaly hands were raised and questions asked, but somehow I glided through, bombarded them with eastern jargon and complicated, incomprehensible answers...
So there I was, instructing a group that ranged from the middle-aged to the slighty decrepid, to stretch, tense, curve and curl their bodies into a maddening array of made-up stances. I was half enjoying myself - amused at making them perform ever more challenging and embarrasingly awkaward commands - whilst also worrying that any moment my true ignorance would be revealed.
Then suddenly a nasty, spine shivering CRACK bounced off the walls and echoed through the hall. It was the kind of sound that carries and conveys the unmistakeable vibration of something thats gone very, very wrong. It was an shrill chord of piercing pain. An ugly, ugly sound... Everyone turned to see a small, greay haired lady who'd collapsed whilst straining to perform an elaborate head-stand type feat, the details of which I'd briefly brushed over just moments before.
" My back" she whimpered "I think its broken"
Instant panic set in as I realised the enormity of the situation. I was a fake yoga teacher! No qualifications, no insurance, no legal safety-net! And my dis-honest incompetance had caused this poor old lady to suffer a ghastly, horrible injury.
I picked up a phone and tried to call an ambulance. But becasue it was christmas the operator said we may have to wait hours and hours...
Whilst I and the group sat round the old lady, waiting for the ambulance, I decided I'd better come clean...
There were about 8 or 9 people in the class and many of them seemed surprisingly old. I remember thinking how frail and weak a few of them appeared. It was also very evident that they were absolute beginners, with even less knowledge of Yoga than me; hence my apparent ability to bamboozle them with my fradulent mastery of the Yogic arts.
"Why on earth are they spending Christmas Day trying to learn Yoga from me?" I wondered, "...And at their age?"
Anyway, I continued the class, confidently conning them all with a series of flamboyant, twisty moves that sprung up from my imagination. Standing before them all I would rapidly demonstate the next maneovre, in a swift, superficial manner that allowed me not to strain mysself in anyway yet somehow implied that I couldn't be bothered to show them the precise technicalities because I found the posture far too easy; it would be beneath me to spend my time demonstrating such amateur acrobactics.
To make myself seem more convincing I laced my instructions with detailed histories explaining the origins and philospophies behing the moves...giving each posture some ludicrous, exotic title
such as "Flight of the Pink Turtle" as I demonstrated it and then explaining which muscles it worked and how it benefit their lives in ever more fantastical ways...Occasionaly hands were raised and questions asked, but somehow I glided through, bombarded them with eastern jargon and complicated, incomprehensible answers...
So there I was, instructing a group that ranged from the middle-aged to the slighty decrepid, to stretch, tense, curve and curl their bodies into a maddening array of made-up stances. I was half enjoying myself - amused at making them perform ever more challenging and embarrasingly awkaward commands - whilst also worrying that any moment my true ignorance would be revealed.
Then suddenly a nasty, spine shivering CRACK bounced off the walls and echoed through the hall. It was the kind of sound that carries and conveys the unmistakeable vibration of something thats gone very, very wrong. It was an shrill chord of piercing pain. An ugly, ugly sound... Everyone turned to see a small, greay haired lady who'd collapsed whilst straining to perform an elaborate head-stand type feat, the details of which I'd briefly brushed over just moments before.
" My back" she whimpered "I think its broken"
Instant panic set in as I realised the enormity of the situation. I was a fake yoga teacher! No qualifications, no insurance, no legal safety-net! And my dis-honest incompetance had caused this poor old lady to suffer a ghastly, horrible injury.
I picked up a phone and tried to call an ambulance. But becasue it was christmas the operator said we may have to wait hours and hours...
Whilst I and the group sat round the old lady, waiting for the ambulance, I decided I'd better come clean...
posted by The Dreamer | 4:03 AM
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