Yesterday, I taught my final Wednesday morning All Levels class. I took over this class last winter, as one of the studio rock star teachers needed to give up the class. Class numbers immediately dropped, and those who remained were palpably dubious - who is this woman; she's not the teacher we want. For weeks, I felt on the verge of losing the class. But yesterday was nearly a full room - 20 bodies and spirits, I have built that class up slowly over the past 6 months, even through the traditionally slow summer. My students were cranky again - not because I was stepping into the room, rather because I was leaving. It was a very affirming experience.
I'm trying not to be attached - I'm simply slipping over to a Monday morning class, a shift planned last spring before I seem to have hit my stride, making room for another teacher on Wednesday. I'll build up Monday as well, I am sure.
As I look at my calendar this month, I see a string of yoga classes that I have taught or am teaching. Between my own classes, a string of subbing for others, a free intro class, and my Adult Ed class starting up, I've taught 9 out of 10 days in a row this month. I've also picked up a private session this week.
I've been teaching for over two years now, and I seem to have turned the corner on something this summer. I'm not the new kid on the block anymore, or the novelty - I seem to have grown into my teaching, to have seasoned.
It's a good feeling. And also something to be wary of - hoping to retain my freshness, stay out of pride and not take the privilege of teaching yoga for granted.