6 Truths About Being A Yoga Teacher That No One Will Ever Tell You

I became a yoga teacher almost by accident. (I enrolled in teacher training to deepen my practice.), but I was surprised to find that being a yoga teacher was by far the best job I’ve ever had.

There’s just no way that you can sustain yourself otherwise. Unless you’re packing group classes and being paid more per head, I’m not sure how you’re going to pay the rent.

When I was starting out, I took each and every teaching gig I could get. This meant I was sometimes working 17 hour days.

I once taught a regular 5:30 am client, followed by 7am and 9am ones. I got up at 5am, and I was home by 11am (for a mid-morning nap). Then I had several free hours until my evening classes. Sometimes, my last class or private session would end at 10pm.

Although most yoga centers derive a large chunk of their income from teacher trainings, there’s still an obvious pressure to fill classes, even if some studios may deny this. The problem is that you can’t really make that happen in any obvious way. And unfortunately, it takes time to create enough of a “fan base” (for lack of a better term) to fill a room.

I (anecdotally) concluded that in order to consistently fill a room of 40 students, at least 400 students needed to want to be there. I had to teach over 1,500 people to develop the rapport with the ones who really understood what I was offering and who wanted more of it on a weekly basis.

That, frankly, takes some time to build! As with any popularity contest, it can drive you crazy if you start to take it personally. Students would swear that I'd changed their lives and then suddenly vanish.

For years, I'd have the most wonderful Saturdays almost entirely devoted to prepping my 5 pm class. I’d practice for two, maybe three hours, just trying out sequences and exploring poses. I’d go through favorite poems and other inspirations of the week. I’d spend an hour putting together my playlist, excited to share it with my students. I’d teach class and hang out a bit afterwards to chat with students, many of whom became lifelong friends.

An unbelievably fantastic way of spending a Saturday, if you ask me. And yet, the total time spent between teaching, prep, and travel, was about 9 hours just for my Saturday class.

Most yoga centers I know are operated as a weird hybrid of business endeavor and spiritual community, and it’s a truly confusing mix. For example, there’s often lots of talk about being “family.” And while I’ve genuinely experienced an authentic sense of spiritual community and felt accepted and loved—well, in my own family, I never really ran the risk of being fired.

Brace yourself for a real shocker: The teachers running your training programs, and speaking at the big conferences, and getting lots of attention are human—they're quirky, deeply flawed, and maybe even a little crazy.

As a teacher, many people might hold you to a higher standard of behavior than everyone else. For example, people might think yoga instructors should always act "zen" or "enlightened." But if "enlightenment" is the standard, then absolutely no one I know measures up. How could they?

Yet, in the end, it doesn’t matter all that much. Almost all professions come with some stereotypical preconceptions. Is it really so bad if the ones associated with being a yoga teacher are that you’ll be calm and wise, albeit eating granola?