Teaching Online: The Bad

Originally, when I started writing these reflections on virtual teaching, I conceived of them as one blog post. I liked this idea, because it suggested that virtual yoga was not entirely good or bad, but could definitely be both. It felt important to me not to represent my experience with virtual teaching either with Tigger-like glee nor Eeyore-like moroseness. 

But I found that I wanted some breathing room for each point I made, and the post became unwieldy. After an embarrassing amount of internal debate, I split it into three posts.

Why am I telling you all of this? Well, I learned that splitting up my original post had an unintended consequence: this post, in which I name “the bad” about teaching online, sounds like one long complaint.

And I’m telling you *that* because I’m terrified of sounding “negative.” Look, I’ve only ever wanted to be truthful on my blog, and it is true that sometimes things just suck. (See also: the year 2020.) But between the yoga I’ve studied, and the “success porn” I’ve consumed (oh god, I think I might have a success porn addiction and I so need to talk about it), I’ve internalized the message that “negativity” is a waste of energy at best, and spiritually corrosive at worst.

So, in between writing sentences for this post, I’ve sat and wrung my hands and fretted about dancing the line between negativity and honesty. The result is what follows.

The Bad

It is hard to see properly. Let me be clear that I am not passive-aggressively complaining about people’s camera set-ups; the device is positioned to benefit the student, as it should be. But I miss being able to walk around someone to get a better angle on their pose. Lighting, camera angles, the color of someone’s clothing against their background… all make it challenging to see alignment.

There’s no back and forth. I really miss working one-on-one with my students. In the before-times, I liked checking in with people who were working with injuries or pain, and strategizing with them on how to make their yoga feel better. Now, if I know someone has an injury, I try to keep an eye on them and give them specific verbal feedback when possible. Of course, that depends on their camera angle (see above). Still, there’s no room for dialogue, and I miss that.

“Mute all” is a necessary evil. I miss hearing the collective swell of breathing at the start of a class. I used to listen to and feel the breathing in the room, and interpret it to guide my cueing. With everyone on mute, I’m sending out my cues and hoping for the best.

And maybe this is my “fear of being negative” talking, but none of these changes are categorically bad. I’ve just had to change how I perceive my role as a yoga teacher. As some of my avenues for perception in class have been reduced or eliminated, I’ve had to find new ways to continue doing what I think is important. I’ll get into that a little bit in my next and final installment, “Teaching Online: The Weird.” Stay tuned!