Yoga teachers are often assumed to have it all figured out — as if somewhere in our training manual was a hidden appendix titled The Definitive Guide to Bodies, Life, and the Universe.
Students look at you like you’re the authority in the room, but the truth is: most of us are just as bewildered as everyone else. We’re experimenting daily, piecing together what works in a body that doesn’t always follow instructions.
Case in point: I’m in physical therapy right now. PT is humbling in the best (and worst) way. You can spend decades teaching yoga, guiding people into elaborate shapes, but nothing brings you down to earth like your therapist saying: “Good. Now try standing on one leg and don’t fall over this time.” Some of the exercises look suspiciously like yoga poses — except you’re doing them in a gym with resistance bands, fluorescent lighting, and someone taking notes about how many times your hip clunks. It’s not glamorous, but it’s very real.
And maybe that’s the heart of the matter. Yoga teachers are asked to be both authorities and fellow travelers. People expect us to know the “right” alignment, the safest modification, the deeper meaning of down dog. Meanwhile, inside our own heads, we’re asking: Is my PT watching? Would she approve of this demo? And why do I always forget which hip is the “good” one?”
The paradox is both funny and freeing. Because it forces us to admit: teaching yoga isn’t really about teaching poses. It’s about teaching curiosity. About asking questions together:
What actually feels true in this moment?
Is more always better, or is it sometimes just more?
What happens if I don’t push, but listen instead?
At its best, yoga class is less about performing a sequence and more about creating a space where exploration feels safe, kind, and — when needed — funny. Because nothing disarms self-judgment quite like realizing your “advanced practice” might just be remembering to breathe, or balancing long enough to carry the groceries without pulling a muscle.
So maybe the real authority of a yoga teacher isn’t that we have all the answers. It’s that we’re willing to keep asking the questions right alongside you. To laugh when the body surprises us, to adapt when things don’t go to plan, and to remember that curiosity is the most sustainable practice of all.
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Image credit: Christine Eckel
