If you haven’t heard the story before, my first paid yoga teaching gig was comically heartbreaking.

In 2009 I was hired to teach a vinyasa yoga class at a family-owned gym in a Twin Cities suburb. I met with the group fitness coordinator and after looking over my resumé she gave me the job. No audition. No real conversation about my teaching experience. I was maybe one month out from completing my first 200-Hour Yoga Teacher Training and was hired on the spot.

At the time I was delighted! Now, as a I reflect upon the experience, I am horrified.

I was hired because I had checked the box of receiving a certification. I wasn’t hired for my knowledge. I wasn’t hired for my ability to effectively teach a group class. Maybe I was hired because I came off as kind and professional, but it still didn’t say much about my teaching skills.

On my first day on the job I was all set to teach a vinyasa class filled with chaturanga and tricky one-legged balancing shapes to whoever showed up that day. As my students filed into the yoga space I was met with looks of confusion. Students looked at me, looked around the space, and finally someone asked, “Where are the chairs?”

The chairs?

Little did I know, the time slot I had been hired for was previously a SilverSneakers chair yoga class. (I think we can all agree the name SilverSneakers could use a bit of an upgrade.) At the time, I didn’t know what SilverSneakers was and I definitely had no clue how to teach chair yoga.

Unsurprisingly, the hour was miserable for everyone in that space.

I reflect upon that experience a lot. I regularly think, I wish I could work with the students from that chair yoga class now. I actually (kind of) know what I’m doing now! I promise I’m more than a teacher who only memorizes a set sequence of shapes!

Especially after such a brutal first class, I had to build myself up in order to stick with the gig. I decided that if I came in with confidence then everyone would think I knew what I was doing. Of course I was just a naive, brand new yoga teacher who would crumble anytime a student asked me a question. I’m fairly certain I made things up when I was met with a question. I was too afraid they would think I was a fraud!

I just wasn’t prepared. Not that my first Teacher Training was bad. I was too new in my own practice and probably should not have entered my first training when I did. My understanding of the practice was so tiny. The students in that space deserved so much more.

If I could give myself some advice in my early days of teaching it would be this: It’s okay to say I don’t know.

You don’t have to have all the answers. You shouldn’t expect to have all the answers. It’s one thing to be confident. It’s another to BS your way through things because you feel like that’s what you’re supposed to do.

In my first Teacher Training I was often told “fake it until you make it”. I understand why that advice is valuable. When learning a new skill sometimes you just have to cruise through the bumps and get to the other side in order to build confidence and understanding. Perhaps, in my early years of teaching, I took that advice too far.

It wasn’t until my Advance Teacher Training that I learned the value of I don’t know.

As a yoga teacher, sometimes we’re expected to know everything. A student has an injury and we’re expected to know all the things that person should and shouldn’t do with their body. A student has an emotional reaction to a shape and we’re expected to explain to them why. A student feels nauseated when they’re in a certain orientation and they want to know all the ways to get through it.

Does the expectation come from students? Most likely no.

The expectation to know all the things is most likely coming from us, the yoga teachers. We tell ourselves stories about being an expert when in all reality we’re just sharing something we know a little bit about and will spend our whole lives continuing to study.

Saying I don’t know doesn’t make you a bad teacher. It probably makes you a better teacher! Understanding your scope of practice and knowing when to admit your limited knowledge is powerful.

I wish more Yoga Teacher Trainings discussed scope of practice and the importance of I don’t know. We can’t expect anyone to know absolutely everything there is to know about the practice of yoga, especially when we consider that the conventional Yoga Teacher Training only consists of 200 hours of study and practice. (I could go on about that arbitrary amount of time, but I might save that for another blog post.)

After 1200+ hours of formal Teacher Training, my number one takeaway is that I don’t know everything about the practice of yoga, I’ll never know everything about the practice of yoga, and I’m very much okay with not know everything about the practice of yoga.

Feel free to come at me with your questions. Just don’t be surprised if I respond with I don’t know.