The Milwaukee club assigned me a “co-teacher” who led the actual yoga workout. The class went fine, though there was perhaps too much invocation of “the goddess Kali” for Friday drive time in Milwaukee. I found the instructor’s yoga flow complicated and confusing, because I find everyone’s yoga flow complicated and confusing. For my part, I demonstrated a couple of poses that I know how to do because I practice them a lot, by myself, at home. My co-teacher told me that she was impressed. “I’m just a beginner,” she said. Run away from me, I wanted to say. I have nothing to offer. About six months later, I went to visit my parents for a week. They live in Phoenix, where no one works too much and everyone is spiritually lost, making it the perfect laboratory for yoga culture. A local teacher had read my book and enjoyed it, and engineered for me to have a "yoga event" at a fancy health club where she sometimes works. I signed a contract, just like a real fitness instructor. All week, I went to the club to take other people’s yoga classes. The yoga room was very nice. There was a multi-colored "chakra wheel" light display in the front. Though I enjoyed some of the classes more than others, I quickly realized that I was way out of my depth. The average student's triangle pose looked better than mine. They already knew all the sun-salutation variations. I felt like a sophomore brought into a graduate-level faculty setting. These were professional exercise teachers, and I respected them enormously. They knew how to manage a complicated flow in a room of 25 people or more. I could only tell people to focus on their breath and put their legs up the wall. Still, I gave the workshop. They’d been publicizing it all week, but only twelve people showed up. Two of them were my parents. One was my wife. Three were other teachers. A paid customer asked for her money back, saying she was "disappointed." A month later, the club mailed me a check for 40 bucks with the note, "don’t spend this all in one place." It was about what I deserved. Neal Pollack is the author of the bestselling memoirsAlternadadandStretch, and the forthcoming novelJewball. He lives in Los Angeles with his wife and son.

Confessions of a reluctant yoga instructor

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