The little mistakes that become big

// three sequences for a powerful hip focused class (which I recorded)

Dear Humans,

I think I’ll always remember the first time I taught a 30 person class. The biggest class I’d taught up to that point. I was SO excited and SO nervous.

I think I’d only been teaching for about two months and there was something about the big class size that felt so glamorous. I was going to have sign-ups just like the senior teachers had! I thought that meant something. It meant that this was an important class. Which meant that I put even more pressure on myself.

(I know now, of course, that class size isn’t what’s important in a class, but that’s a different topic ☺️)

On class morning, the people started to fill the space. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest. The room was tight. Mat to mat. I looked around. I smiled. I tried to breathe through my nerves. I started teaching.

We had made it a few minutes into our centering when two more students walked into the studio. They wanted to squeeze in. I was mid-meditation. They were obviously creating a distraction, as students moved their mats and people whispered.

To say it threw me off would be an understatement. I stopped class. I let them get settled and then I began again. It wasn’t the worst thing in the world, but I was totally rattled. I spent the rest of class just trying to get through it.

The teacher I am today knows how to deal with that situation. I likely would have made eye-contact with the two students right when they walked in, and signaled to them to wait one moment. I would end the meditation and then invite them to join and move mats when we had all started moving, so as not to disturb the students. Or, things would have played out exactly as they did all those years ago, but I would know how to teach through it. I would try to treat it lightly, so that my students knew that they could also treat it lightly. This happens. It’s not even uncommon. But what has evolved is my comfort in dealing with what I’ll call “emotional hijacks” as I teach.

But that me of eight years ago? She worried that this initial “bad” start to the class tainted the rest of the session. She fretted over her bad class. She felt a literal sick sensation in her stomach when she thought of it. She was so disappointed.

That wouldn’t be the last time that I allowed myself to get emotionally hijacked while teaching. In fact, it still happens. More than that, I see it happening around me. I can tell, because part of my job is paying attention to the experience of yoga teachers, when it happens to others.

It’s so natural to get hijacked. It’s so human. And I believe it arises out of a deep sense of love.

We love teaching. We love this practice. We want to create beautiful experiences for others. We want to show that we care. And because of all this, we hold ourselves to such an extremely high standard. Especially as new teachers.

What I want to offer is a few pieces of advice for how to learn to adapt when you sense that you’ve been emotionally hijacked while teaching:

1. Notice what’s happening and then make a shift;

2. Remember that one second or moment does not define 60+ minutes of teaching, nor does it define you as a teacher.

Notice what’s happening and make a shift

One thing I’ve tried to cultivate in my teaching is the ability to notice my own teaching energy and to shift it as I teach. This is a subtle but important thing.

For example: Some days when I teach I notice that for whatever reason my words aren’t flowing. So instead of stumbling over my words and then panicking or getting stressed about it, making the issue worse, I try to just become aware of it. I say to myself:

“Okay, this is true for me today. So I’m noticing that maybe my brain is elsewhere. I’m going to really tune in here. I am going to settle my energy, instead of amping it up.”

Or, sometimes I can tell that I’m speaking with a lot of intensity. Maybe the sequence is challenging, and that’s manifesting in a sharp tone in my voice. Then I say to myself:

“Let’s soften a little here. Relax your words. You’ve got this.”

Or maybe something else happens. I’ve made a mistake. Then I simply say to myself: “I’m going to calmly bring this back on track.”

The inner-game of a yoga teacher is huge. Students are so aware of our own energy as we teach. And that creates a lot of pressure. But it’s entirely possible to simply become more aware of your energy, and to remember that you can always, always make a change.

Remember that one second or moment does not define 60+ minutes of teaching, nor does it define you as a teacher.

This one is even bigger. It’s such an important thing to remember. And it’s so hard to do.

So you taught a yoga class and you made mistakes. So you walked away with the feeling that it wasn’t a great class. It doesn’t matter if that’s true or not. (Usually, it’s not. Usually our students don’t sense the mistakes with the same intensity or care that we do). But regardless, you feel like it wasn’t your best. And now that feeling is sticking with you.

I’ve been here so many times. I still arrive here. I think it’s part of the teaching journey.

But here’s the opportunity: Can you learn the skill of letting it go?

Can you practice brushing off those “bad” classes? Can you watch your negative self-talk, and replace it with positive reinforcement instead?

I believe we must do this as teachers. Instead of saying to ourselves—“Wow, that wasn’t my best,” “They must have hated it,” “Did you see that woman in the back? She looked so unhappy.”—can we say to ourselves: “Good job for showing up,” “What can I learn from this experience?” “Where can I show myself grace and love?” And once you’ve answered those questions, can you let the rest go?

Leave that class there. Leave that moment there. Don’t let the little moments, the little mistakes, the little “oopsies” become bigger than they have to be.

We learn this as a fundamental in yoga philosophy: when we ruminate on something in the mind, it takes up more space than it needs to. We have to shrink those critical thoughts, instead of making them bigger.

I would argue that we must learn to do this in order to make teaching a sustainable part of our lives

Teaching is a practice of letting go.

I write this as much for myself as for anyone. I’m still that brand new teacher who just wanted to do a good job. I’m working on treating myself more gently. I hope you will too, my friends.

This week, I am excited to share the write-up to the sequences that I taught during this week’s live stream class! My paid subscribers get access to this 45 minute class, so you can practice with me and get a sense of the cues and the way this sequence feels in your own body.

For everyone, I’ll share the write-up to all three sequences, including:

• Class Opener

• Mini-Flow

• Main Flow

This class has a few nice focus points including hips, shoulders, and balance. It’s powerful, with a nice blend of simplicity and creativity. I’ve loved teaching it to my students and I hope you enjoy it, too.

Speaking of mistakes, when I taught this live class I noticed two things: for some reason the sound quality wasn’t great (I bought a new mic, so hopefully it’ll be better next time) and then at the end I accidentally muted the microphone at savasana and didn’t unmute, so you can’t hear me say goodbye. Lol.

After class, it was one of those moments where I had to say to myself: It wasn’t perfect, but I’m going to let that go.

:)

Take care of yourselves out there, dear humans. You are doing such amazing and important work.

Sending love,

Izzy

Izzy Martens

author, yoga teacher, sequence enthusiast

@martensizzy | @yogahumans

What I Taught in Yoga This Week | May 14, 2025

Don’t forget I taught this as a full class on Substack! Watch and practice with the recorded version here.

class opener — the write-up:

• reclined butterfly (option to use blocks)