Those who can’t do, teach. This refrain is surely to the infuriation of competent teachers everywhere.
After all, if they couldn’t do, how could they teach? I couldn’t think of anything more terrifying than putting my hand up to teach something I have absolutely no idea about. It’s tantamount to social suicide. Such self-sabotage can hardly be so main-stream as to apply to all teachers.
I pray I never encounter, for example, a body-attack instructor who has no idea what they’re teaching. Can you imagine the entire class jiggling around like a bunch of incontinent wallies for an entire hour only to find their teacher was a clueless poser and they’ve gained next to no fitness benefits?
No, I think we need to make the concession that teachers, occasionally, do know what they’re on about.
And moreover, it isn’t due to failure at “making the big time” that they teach. In fact – call me crazy – I find it conceivable that some people are simply passionate and generous enough to want to share their time and experience with others – and sometimes for free! Could it be that they encounter some type of – what is that phrase – personal satisfaction from what they do?
I recently encountered such a person.
I recently spent six months living in Maleny and, being the new kid in town, I was keen to extend my social network. A friend invited me to join her women’s yoga circle, which I gladly accepted. The cost? Nothing. Should I bring a plate? No. My city-bred alarm bells begin to sound. Something for nothing? Hmm. I rationalized that perhaps the quality of instructing wouldn’t be anything fabulous.
The class was held at the instructor’s home, and was attended by about six other regulars. By the ease in which they performed the various poses or ashtangas, it became apparent these were no amateurs. The instructor, who resembled an ideal of feminine physique, effortlessly moved into poses that would strain the most rubbery yogi.
My clumsy attempts were given warm praise, and I was eagerly embraced into the Yoga Family fold. I was emailed class times, missed when I didn’t attend, and encouraged to come whenever and however possible. People who barely knew my name literally felt sad if I didn’t show up.
The instructor, who is waiting for her own studio to be built, puts considerable effort into sharing her knowledge with a bunch of strangers twice a week. For the love of it. At no cost. She is sad when people don’t attend.
I don’t know if yoga is for me or whether I will continue. But knowing the noble art of teaching and giving is alive and well did my soul the world of good. It was a relief to be reminded that greatness can be found in ordinary people who succeed in doing small things greatly.
Kudos to the Maleny Yoga Family.
