the Worst Class I Ever Taught…

…and the lessons it taught me.

I was recently the substitute teacher for a yoga class that redefined 'awkward.'

Just days prior to the class, my old nemesis anxiety crept in like a black cloud. Anxiety takes different forms, and this time it held me in a physical clench—my hands shook, my heartbeat jumped to an erratic gallop, and I aimlessly repeated simple tasks like looping over cleaning a dish 30 times. Drawing in a fresh breath of air felt insurmountable—each breath scraped the walls of my throat. The cause? Who knows. I can blame the planets (again), hormones, or stress, but it doesn't matter. When anxiety arrives, it lets itself in.

My inner monologue, usually gentle, morphed into thoughts of imposter syndrome and unworthiness around subbing the yoga class of a beloved local teacher with impossible-to-fill-shoes. The solution? Torture myself, obviously. My erratic mind convinced me to change the sequence I wanted to teach, diverting from my strengths and overshooting by developing a complicated, new sequence the night prior while simultaneously creating a playlist from scratch. I'd backed myself into a corner, destined to implode.

Stepping into the room as a substitute, I felt the weight of expectation. My jaw locked, eyes darted, and mind jumped. The students, their eyes wary, formed a loose, distant circle as they stiffly spaced themselves out, reluctant to draw close to me at the front of the room. Barely able to see those hiding in the back, I paced during class like a caged animal, undoubtedly unnerving everyone as they floundered to find their flow. The end of class was the crescendo—a slow-clap so painful it has redefined “pity clap.”

It was, without a doubt, my most disheartening teaching experience. Nothing about the hour sat well with me. My timing, word choice, relentless trotting about—it was all off.

Anxiety and worry are thieves of contentment, peace, and joy. In this case, a simple thing I've done a thousand and one times—teaching yoga—robbed me of being present and sent me into a frenzy. And the hardest part is that I was fully cognizant of what I was doing to myself. I knew I was stuck in an irrational pit of dread, like I was floating above myself, hollering down, “You know better! Don't let anxiety win!” I'm also seasoned enough to recognize that no class is ever as good or bad as a yoga teacher thinks, but rationality was out of reach despite my inner-knowing that in reality, the class was actually totally acceptable. 

The Lesson

I went home after class, a jammed coil of worry as I kept replaying the hour over and over in my head, rehashing my perceived missteps. My usual tools for calm—Reiki, breathwork—felt distant, useless. My body was a taut wire, vibrating with residual anxiety.

Thankfully, a little voice wiser than myself spoke up and reminded me that my only way out was to start being compassionate towards myself. I needed an inner dialogue that was softer, like a friend or loved one would talk to me. I sought to turn my inner critic towards a nurturing advocate, like, “That was hard. How human of me to always want to have a positive impact in the yoga space. I must really care so much about this practice.”

How to Practice Self-Compassion

Mindful Self-Compassion founder Dr. Kristin Neff describes self-compassion as “simply…doing a U-turn and giving yourself the same compassion you'd naturally show a friend when you're struggling or feeling badly about yourself. It means being supportive when you're facing a life challenge, feel inadequate, or make a mistake. Instead of just ignoring your pain with a 'stiff upper lip' mentality or getting carried away by your negative thoughts and emotions, you stop to tell yourself 'this is really difficult right now, how can I comfort and care for myself in this moment?'”

For me, I chose to take a hot bath and sip tea after the class. I guided my inner critic to the backseat, allowing the nurturing voice to take the wheel. “You are not your anxiety,” it soothed. “You are not defined by this one class.” I gently reminded myself that although I had not taught the class I wanted, I was not a bad teacher (or person). I allowed myself to acknowledge, while I sometimes have anxiety, I am not defined by it.

Finally, a deep, unhindered breath filled my lungs—a tangible release. Treating myself compassionately had allowed my first effortless breath of fresh air in days to flow in. From there, I focused on deeper, slower breaths, coupled by self-Reiki, journaling, and ultimately appreciation for the experience. Once I found my self-compassion, I realized neither my perceived mistakes nor anxiety are the enemy—they're the teacher.

And yes, I will return to that room. I will step onto that mat again and relish the chance to learn and grow. 

The Practice (Your Turn!): 
Think of a situation or event that was memorably uncomfortable. Pause and notice what feelings arise when you recall the event. Then, take a complete breath and ask yourself what your most supportive friend would say to you as words of encouragement. Hear their voice and reassuring tone, then speak their words aloud to yourslf. Place your hands over your heart and take another slow inhale and exhale.