Imposter syndrome – or, shit, I am the teacher now!

I had an experience the other week where a new student walked into our studio, looked at me with wide eyes and asked “Are you the teacher?”. The answer to what they were really asking: i.e. are you the person who is going to guide me here, was “Yes” so that is what I answered. But it took every ounce of guts I had to say “Yes” at the time. I wanted to say “No. You are mistaken friend, I have no business wearing the mantle of teacher because you see I am a fraud. Have a nice day!”

Physical, postural yoga is part of an ancient lineage which developed in India. The teachings were passed down from learned guru to student over probably thousands of years. They were written about by sages in cryptic texts. They were interpreted and developed into sequences and made their way around the world, becoming astoundingly popular in the mainstream for roughly the last 40 years.

I am a 25 year old white person who has not been to India (yet). My Sanskrit is rudimentary at best.
And yet, I have a certificate which says I am qualified to teach other people yoga. Teach them this amazingly varied, deeply spiritual, profoundly difficult and beneficial thing. I teach other people in led classes regularly. In a conversation with a fellow student and teacher recently, we both expressed how absolutely insane that feels to us. How can we stand in front of a room full of eager students and say “Yes, hello, I am the teacher” when we know how mindbogglingly old, not to mention extremely special and powerful the poses and practices are, and we barely feel we have a grasp on them ourselves? What qualifies me, other than the training I have received from my own teachers and a more regular practice than most people I am likely to teach? I’m not really sure of the answer to that, and a lot of times people ask me questions in yoga classes and the only thing I can say is “I don’t know, but I’ll try to find out for you.”

I suppose what contributes to this feeling of imposter syndrome is the different definitions of the word “teacher.” A teacher in the west and a teacher in the east are somewhat different animals. In some places and cultures, there is a different attitude towards “teaching” as a whole, in any field. Anyone who teaches is revered because the role is given a certain level of respect. But in countries like my own, the standard for being considered a “teacher” of something does not necessarily imply mastery of that subject, or the corresponding respect – it simply refers to the fact that the person knows the content/method well enough to pass it on to the majority of beginners competently and that they have been given a certificate by someone to do so.

In India, a teacher or guru is someone who lives the teachings – body, mind and soul. They have studied for many many years, perhaps their whole lives. Students come to them unbidden because they radiate knowledge. In terms of physical yoga teaching, you would have to be chosen by your own teacher after many years of quiet and humble practice to engage in a long apprenticeship before taking on your own students.

That is nothing like what goes on in most places in the west. Anyone off the street could claim the status of a “yoga teacher” especially if they’re naturally gifted with a flexible body and can easily achieve a few flashy asana. The minimum training requirement is 200hrs. You can go to Bali for 3 weeks for a holiday, do an intensive course and come back with a certificate which allows you to be covered by an insurance company and therefore teach the public. You don’t have to prove your devotion, you don’t even have to practice yoga yourself.

Obviously, there are many dedicated teachers out there who have proven their passion, commitment, knowledge and love for teaching yoga to others. These people are always actively learning, invest time and money and emotion into in their teaching careers and are humble and dedicated in their own practice. These are the kinds of teachers I have had, and I hope I may be counted among them one day. But I don’t see myself as a “teacher” yet.

The word implies a level of expertise which I do not feel qualified to claim. Obviously I have only been doing yoga for a handful of years thus far, but I have a sustained and passionate practice and have been taught and trained by some amazing practitioners. This allows me a certain level of confidence and knowledge in the face of teaching a led class of complete beginners – but I certainly only see myself as a slightly more senior student in these scenarios rather than a teacher.

In Mysore-style classes, the system is more reminiscent of the traditional method that you find in India. There is generally an experienced teacher and one or more apprentices walking around assisting. I am an apprentice, so when someone asks me “are you the teacher” I mentally panic at the thought of them thinking I am an expert practitioner. Oftentimes, the students I teach are much better at certain poses than I am! In this environment, I try hard to simply provide the service of encouragement and support to the students when they need it, and safe, basic adjustments to augment their practice. I am also doing my best to learn from the experienced teacher in this scenario – not just the content of what they teach, but more the way they teach and how they treat each student completely unique with a unique practice.

I never thought I would be a yoga teacher in a million years. I’m still not really sure how it even happened. I only know that it’s currently the best method I have for sharing the small knowledge I have gained with others, and that it’s part of my duty to share it.