Teaching Drop-In Classes

The effort of no effort can be quite powerful, as we know. I’ve learned to use that principle in teaching T’ai Chi Chih and have seen wonderful results.

I’ve been teaching TCC classes at a local YMCA since 2002. Unlike teaching a planned eight-week series of classes with the same people attending each class, teaching a drop-in class has its own challenges. As the name suggests, one never knows who will show up for class. Also, there’s typically no limited set series to the classes; instead, I teach throughout the year in seasonal schedules.

Some students come religiously to every class and begin to gain an understanding of the TCC principles and movements. They begin to sink into the moves and flow effortlessly. Students in this group often are able to get the nuances from teaching cues and instructions. I really enjoy splitting hairs with these “frequent fliers,” as I like to call them. It’s nice to see looks of understanding on their faces during some fine-tuning, accompanied by aha! moments as they feel a difference after a slight alteration.

Often, though, there are newcomers who have no idea what to expect. Some of take to the moves like ducks to water. It’s wonderful to see a novice go with the flow and move in time with more experienced students. Others, however, seem challenged, holding tension in their bodies and simply trying too hard.

This may be in part because most classes taught at this large, state-of-the-art exercise facility subscribe to the theory of the effort of effort (aka the “no pain, no gain” mentality). The invitation to slow down, relax and let go of tension doesn’t make sense initially. In fact, some can’t seem to tolerate the slow pace and leave. I’ve learned to let that go and not take it personally. (It took a while though.)

What to do? When first teaching at the Y, I attempted to teach as if it were a regular series of classes. I’d start with several movements, demonstrate each first, then teach each segment, and end the class with a practice of those particular movements. It became frustrating to both the students and me when someone brand new walked into class. I’d always seem to push the reset button and review the same moves over and over again.

One day I shared these concerns with a yoga instructor with similar issues. She said she was told to “teach to the class,” and encourage newcomers to keep coming back so they would be able to follow the class, instead of reviewing with the newcomers and putting the class on hold until the newbies caught up.

It feels kind of like teaching on the fly but it works. Typically, we do most (if not all) of the TCC movements in each class without much prior instruction. I usually give verbal cues as we move together. It’s truly a lesson in the notion that the class will show you what you need to focus on. Sometimes my comments are few and far between and sometimes I provide more frequent cues.

In order to give the frequent fliers something to chew on, I say, “For those of you who have been coming a while, I’d like you to focus on ___.” Then I add, “If you’re relatively new, simply imagine that you’re flowing through very heavy air.”

Recently, a student asked if there was an advanced TCC class. I smiled, told him about Seijaku, and then contacted my supervisor and pitched the idea. She loved it began advertising the new class, which started on June 18.

I’m excited about teaching Seijaku to experienced students. Who knew that the effort of no effort, teaching TCC in a high-energy exercise facility, would eventually lead to students wanting more? (Answer: We teachers.)

Pyramid Poems

class

poem

from right brain

turn off thinking

what comes up

create

bliss

– Sharon Sirkis

drip

drop drip

rain falls down

slowly through the

mist-filled air

I breathe

deep

– Kelly Hanlon

let

the horse

talk with you

and move with you

and you’ll see

two minds

one

– Allison Isberg

snow

frigid

so cold that

the world freezes

why must this

happen

now

– Kayla Vlahos

light

vibrate

resonance

high frequency

energy

makes my

chi

– Betsir Zemen