As faculty, I know I am a jack of all trades and a master of none. I need to be: flexible but not too flexible, organized but not over the top, creative but not unclear, curious but in asking the right questions, innovative to a point, authentic but…there’s no but here…authentic always, problem-solving for all the things, calm but energized, centered, knowledgeable in my content area and everything higher ed, patient but firm with deadlines, demonstrate a love of learning for life, adaptable especially in a pandemic-laced world, engaged but know when to pull back, empathetic but be wary of emotional overload, prepared always for anything, positive even if personally I don’t feel it, vulnerable but not oversharing, understanding but being resolute with my syllabus, equitable, dedicated but create a work/life balance, model integrity, have high expectations but be realistic, and include a sense of humor but be sure it’s warranted. It is no wonder there was a recent article in The Chronicle about higher ed being exhausted. Unequivocally, the role of “mom, mama, mommy, MO-OM,” to three beautiful boys for twenty years has enhanced my teaching practice more than anything else, and the parallels of parenting to the practice of teaching are undeniable. If I choose that route, this article will literally write itself (ya best watch out, ChatGPT).
Instead, in true Roxanna fashion, I tend to overthink things sometimes and take the road less traveled. My friends and I joke that I should wear a shirt with the phrase “Learning the hard way since the 1970s” skating across the front. So, here goes.
Seven years ago, as a newly divorced forty-something with three kids, I knew I had to look out for myself by getting physically and mentally healthy. The gym became my solace and sanctuary, and hiking became my church. While I found myself molding into the shape my portly younger self would have envied, I also turned into the Tin [Wo]Man with cramps in odd places and muscle tightness. My sister recommended yoga. Yoga was something I thought about frequently, but quite frankly, did not have the cajones to try. Plus, it wasn’t JUST yoga. It was HOT YOGA.
A studio down the street was offering a trial of classes for a couple of weeks, so I figured why not. The first piece of advice I received was to be sure to arrive hydrated; I made sure to chug down a bunch of water. The second piece of advice was to be sure to have a yoga mat and some kind of towel to put on top of it to soak up the sweat; I had a yoga mat purchased cheaply from TJ Maxx and a beach towel. When I arrived, ready to rock with my water bottle and towels, the yoga teacher recommended I place my mat by the door. I thought, “No problem, I’ve got this.” The studio began filling with sinewy, spindly-toned yogis with perfect yoga attire, yoga mats, and yoga towels. They make yoga towels? Yeah, I didn’t know about that, either. Let’s just say the first class, I did not expect to sweat my body weight, and I had no idea what I was doing. The instructor would say foreign things that sounded something like this: “Plank pose, exhale, come down, hands by your shoulders, inhale, fold your toes back, push up, up dog, fold your toes under, exhale, down dog. This is our vinyasa. It’s optional.”
To say I could hardly keep up is an understatement; I went through all my water and looked on in awe at the slightly perspiring yogis in front of me doing full splits and flowing through their flows like sugar plum fairies. I dropped to my beach towel mat in a pool of my own sweat, puffy red face, snot, and sweat and tears all blending together, heart racing, trying to catch a breath in the 104-degree humid air. It is not a hyperbole when I say I was surprised I made it out alive. I thought if I died as a melted gummy pool on the mat, there would be worse ways to leave this life. At the end of the class, I bolted for the door, if only to feel a brief relief from the cooler air outside the death steam of the room. Afterward, despite the terrible headache invading my brain, this practice intrigued me, and I was eager to learn how to control my breath and start to heal myself from the inside out. I went back.
With determination to learn the sequence of movements to reach shavasana: warm-up, awkward series, balancing series, flows, and floor poses, I began to attend regularly. Hot yoga was the total magic formula for not only looking but FEELING healthy from the inside out; I needed it, and it unexpectedly began to enhance my teaching practice, particularly when I consider the guidance I picked up along the way:
1. Stay on your mat.
In yoga, the best place to be is on the mat. I can always come down to child pose or lay down, but the coolest place in the room is on the mat. In teaching, I use this to remember to focus on the things I can control within the walls of my classroom.
2. Don’t give your practice away.
In yoga, it is important to see myself in the mirror and create a focal point where my focus is directed and supported with a mantra like “Strong. Here. Now,” especially in balancing poses. If I’m looking elsewhere, then I lose my focus, and I will lose my pose. In teaching, I have learned to forge my own path, focus, and do what is best for my students in my classroom.
3. Your breath will always guide you.
In yoga, the breath is used to guide the practice. With inhales and exhales, the body bends and stretches into complex poses. If the breath becomes choppy or unmanageable, it is time to take a break. In life and in teaching, if I find myself becoming anxious or losing my breath, I know it is time to take a break or a pause.
4. Take what you need.
With yoga, it is important to feel good after practice. If I push myself too hard, then I will likely end up out of breath and crying in the car after practice. It is imperative to find the balance in the practice and be mindful of what my body needs, even if I think I should be better or be able to do more. With teaching, I know that if I feel rushed, then my students certainly do. It is essential that everyone leaves feeling well-equipped and prepared to manage each week’s workload and assignments.
5. “You have worked so hard to become the person you are today; recognize that and honor it. You wouldn’t be you without the past versions of yourself, so cheer on your present self because you are building the foundation for your future self.” – from yoga teacher Ashley
In yoga, the present moment is the focus. The external stressors off of the mat, outside of the studio are not front of mind during practice. Additionally, it is important to give myself grace and recognize the effort and work I have put forth to be able to complete the entire practice without taking a break. In my career, I wouldn’t be the teacher I am today without the versions of me from the past, and I know I will continue to build my present to fortify my future.
Today, after hundreds of classes, my yoga practice remains imperfect, yet it is my sanctuary—a place where I can always reconnect with myself. After all, it is PRACTICE. As Tolle reminds us, I surrender to what is, allowing it to work for me instead of against me, and this yoga journey has certainly enhanced my teaching and my life.