Lessons Learned When I Stopped Teaching Yoga

The yoga studio where I teach has been closed all month for a little cosmetic glow‑up. A fresh coat of paint, a zhuzh here and there. As a result, I haven’t taught much lately (just my Wednesday evening online gentle hatha)—which left me with an unexpected gift: time. Eight to twelve extra hours a week, to be exact. I poured them into my two businesses, dusted off my guitar, and—most surprisingly—shook up my own yoga

practice.

Instead of leading classes, I became a full‑time student again. I took more classes, tried new formats, explored different instructors, and let myself be guided instead of guiding. It felt like swapping my “teacher hat” for my “wide‑eyed beginner hat,” and honestly, it was delightful. A reminder of how much magic we unlock when we let ourselves get curious.

There’s something powerful about returning to the student lens—about choosing humility, wonder, and the willingness to not know everything. It’s a softening that opens the door to growth, expansion, and positive change. No matter how long we’ve been doing something, there’s always a new angle, a new technique, a new spark waiting to be discovered.

Being a student again also reconnects us with people in a different way. When we let others teach us, we strengthen community, deepen trust, and remember what it feels like to be supported instead of steering the ship.

And curiosity—oh, curiosity is a superpower. It builds excitement for new projects and challenges. It keeps the brain young, flexible, and firing on all cylinders. Neuroscience tells us that learning new things strengthens synaptic connections, boosts cognitive function, and helps protect against dementia and Alzheimer’s. Curious minds ask questions, make mistakes, try again, and grow in ways closed minds simply cannot.

Curiosity is also a balm for mental health. When we’re learning, we’re present. We’re not spiraling about the past or catastrophizing about the future. We’re engaged, intrigued, and in the moment. And being in the moment is where the magic lives. It’s where anxiety softens, where mood lifts, where we remember that life can feel good again.

And here’s the beautiful twist: being a student makes you a better teacher. Revisiting familiar concepts, learning new approaches, and remembering what it feels like to be new at something builds empathy, patience, and creativity. It reminded me to ask more questions of my online students, to check in more often, to stay curious about their experience—not just my own.

So I’ll ask you this: where in your life could you put down the metaphorical teacher chalk and step back into student mode? Where could you invite in a little wonder, a little humility, a little “beginner brain”? What might open up for you if you did?

As for me, here’s what I’m bringing back into my teaching after a month of being a student: new strength‑building moves, fun transitions, fresh formatting ideas, a handful of new acquaintances, a more consistent personal practice, more patience with myself and others, and a renewed enthusiasm to keep learning.

Because the truth is, we’re never done being students. And thank goodness for that.

Want to put your student hat on? Join me on the mat every Wednesday after work and "Undo the Desk" with some gentle Hatha-Vinyasa yoga or Saturday mornings for Weekend Vinyasa Flow. Learn more.