As students, we expect a great deal from our teachers. We expect them to be enthusiastic. We expect them to be reliable. We may even have expectations that they be endless repositories of skill and knowledge from which we may partake at will.

Curiosity

Such people are tremendously curious. The whole world is of interest to them, and they observe what others do not. Nobel Prize-winning physician Albert Szent-Gyorgyi put it well when he said, “Discovery consists of looking at the same thing as everyone else and thinking something different.” 1 With this curiosity comes an ‘investigative spirit’; the learning is not so much the acquisition of information as it is an investigation—a questioning, a turning over of the object of study to see all sides and facets. It is not knowing in the sense of having a rigid opinion, but the ability to look again at another time, in a different light, as Gyorgyi suggests, and to form a new understanding based on that observation.

One way to develop curiosity is to cultivate ‘disbelief’. By disbelieving what we often take for granted, we begin to investigate and explore on our own. In the process, we stop mindlessly parroting our teachers and begin to find how their understanding works in our own experience. Disbelief can be a major step toward creative exploration. In my own classes, I encourage students to investigate, to question my instructions in their own practice. “How does this movement affect my body? What happens if I do it another way? How am I reacting to this posture?” The mere act of saying, “What if...?” opens a completely new dimension of thought. This kind of questioning has led to some of the most exciting inventions of our time.

Discipline 

Any discipline—but especially those with great subtlety and complexity, like Yoga or t’ai chi—can be a lifelong pursuit. Persistence, consistency, and discipline are required. Without these, our learning is but froth without substance. There are no shortcuts. The fruit of these seemingly dry qualities (which we prefer to admire in others) is the satisfaction of having tasted the fullness of completion, or the thrill of meeting a difficult challenge with success. Perhaps, though, our culture is in need of redefining what it means to study. If we can look at our chosen discipline or craft as an ongoing process rather than as a discrete accomplishment, the potential for learning can be infinite. With this attitude, we may find ourselves treating even the most mundane discovery with wide-eyed wonder and joy.

Almost anyone can recognize when another’s understanding has true substance. The admiration we bestow on great dancers, musicians, and artists comes from our sense that these people have stepped into the unknown. When we see something extraordinary, we sense the unexpressed third dimension of our own two-dimensional, limited selves. When we take it upon ourselves to step into the unknown, we stop asking our teachers to give our lives meaning and start asking how we ourselves can bring meaning to all aspects of our lives.

Risk Taking 

Why is it, then, that so few people live up to their true potential? Beyond the well-paved roads and secure structures we usually build for ourselves lie demons, unsure footing—and unfelt pleasures. To be a student is to take risks. Yet most education discourages people from venturing far enough to take risks or make mistakes. “Children enter school as question marks and leave as periods,” observes educator Neil Postman. What kind of punctuation mark do you represent? Do you find yourself looking for tidy answers that give you a feeling of security? By learning to find the one right answer, we may have relinquished our ability to find other answers and solutions. We learn, then, not to put ourselves into situations where we might fail, because failure has tremendous social stigma. When we try different approaches and do things that have no precedence in our experience, we will surely make mistakes. A creative person uses these ‘failures’ as stepping stones.

Initiative 

Can we begin, then, to see that our teachers are guides on our journey, but that the journey itself is our own responsibility? There is nothing quite so satisfying as undergoing a difficult process and after long hard work discovering the true nature of that process. It could be as simple as throwing a perfect pot, or as complex as formulating a new theory of physics. The satisfaction we feel will be directly proportional to the amount of work we do by ourselves to achieve our goal. Successful students do not expect to be spoonfed but take their own initiative. Wanting answers from my teacher has often been a way for me to avoid taking the initiative to discover my own answers through my own practice.

Speaking from the other side of the fence, Yoga teacher Dona Holleman helps clarify the teacher’s role in this relationship when she says, “Helping the pupil must come as a reward for long and persistent work on the part of the pupil. It should be spare and rare. The pupil should do all the work himself, and then the occasional slight help comes as a ‘bonus’.” 2

Enthusiasm 

To learn, then, is to open oneself. Jim Spira, director of the Institute for Educational Therapy in Berkeley, California 3 , asks his students to prepare themselves to learn in this way:

“Drop your prior knowledge . . . [and] attempt to grasp the new framework in its own context. The student complains, ‘But I know what is important.’ If what you know is important then it should be there when you finish the course. If you continually ‘hold onto it’, then you’ll only see what is presented in terms of the old knowledge/framework and never really grow in new ways.

“Drop your self-image . . . [and] become what you are involved with to the fullest. The student says, ‘But what I am is important.’ I reply, ‘Don’t get trapped by what you like and dislike.’ Being willing to go through each activity as fully as possible will expand your potential well beyond your present limitations.”

When I am lucky enough to meet people like Jim Spira, who live life as explorers, I find myself uplifted by their presence. These people, who inspire all of us, seem to have tapped into a limitless supply of enthusiasm. They excite us, they enlighten us, and we want some of whatever it is they have. The Greek word enthousiasmos means ‘infused with the divine’.

We often go to classes because we need the enthusiasm of the teacher to bolster us or push us forward, and then we carry that enthusiasm home with us like a fragile package and often watch it diminish until the next class. But eventually we must find a way to stop resisting our own ‘infusion of the divine’. Advanced students of any discipline are constantly finding new ways to connect with the enthusiastic part of themselves that ‘wants to do’. These are the people who will go beyond replication of their teachers or systems to bring fresh new ideas and an iconoclastic vision to fields that have otherwise become jaded and ingrown.

I do not mean to advocate disrespect or casual regard for teachers. They are great gifts to us, but eventually we must become our own person—and the best teachers will help us move in that direction. By devoting yourself to one teacher, you help that teacher learn how best to help you. At the same time, you can develop trust in your teacher and can begin to understand his or her particular vocabulary.

Contrary to the belief that more is better, studying simultaneously with many different teachers and packing in one workshop after another may not be the best way to learn. Don’t be a teacher or workshop junkie. If you find that you practice little on your own but take many classes and workshops, it may be time to assess how much you are really learning. Only through practice (by yourself) and time can you assimilate new information. Integrate new concepts and ideas into your practice in a meaningful way before stuffing yourself with more information and techniques.

Finally, as we each advance on our own unique journey, let us live each day as beginners. Being ‘advanced’ has its own pitfalls—among them complacency and pushing or forcing. To go deeper may mean to be still, to progress more patiently, or to devote more time to other areas of our lives as yet green and immature. As F. M. Alexander, of the Alexander technique, once said to his students as they strained and labored, “Give up trying too hard, but never give up.” 4

Tips for the Aspiring Student
The information that follows is designed as a guide. Teaching Yoga has changed so much in the nearly four decades since this article was written. While there has been significant change over this time, with major technological advances opening online teaching and other events such as the pandemic, there are some constant principles that remain. Please share in the comments below anything you'd like to add.

• Be attentive. Teachers will usually go out of their way to help a self-motivated and interested student.

• Be seen. If you want the teacher to know that you are serious, sit or stand in the front of the class. Make eye contact and introduce yourself, either before or after class.

• Be on time. Consistent lateness is a sign of disrespect. If you take your teacher’s skills so lightly, why should he or she take you seriously? Missing the beginning of class can also be physically dangerous if you have missed explanations and work meant to prepare you for more difficult movements.

• Be consistent. The quality of any class improves when there is a collective commitment to regular attendance. In this way you can gain a cumulative knowledge and progress at a more rapid pace. On a more practical level, your attendance may be your teacher’s livelihood.

• Listen with your whole body. We have come to treat words like the background noise of a radio. Plant words in the pertinent area of your body so that information can be ‘embodied’.

• Appreciate constructive criticism. Remember why you’re there—to break through restrictive habit patterns and to change. Teachers usually reserve the most scathing criticism for their most promising students.

• Questions can help clarify and enrich both teacher and student if the student’s questions are pertinent. If, on the contrary, the student is asking questions because he or she is late or inattentive, the student is being disrespectful to the teacher and fellow classmates and is consequently lowering the quality of the class. Highly personal questions with little relevance to the subject at hand are best asked after class.

• You have the right to disagree—but you do not always have the right to express it. Sometimes it is appropriate to challenge a teacher. It is unethical, however, to argue with a teacher or to badger a teacher in public. If you thoroughly object to what is being taught, you are free to leave and learn elsewhere.

• Let your teacher know how much you appreciate him or her. Teachers need encouragement like everyone else. Giving them feedback when something has proved particularly beneficial or injurious to you can help them improve the quality of their teaching.

Notes

1. Roger Vaon Oech, A Whack on the Side of the Head (New York: Warner, 1983).

2. Dona Holleman, Centering Down (Firenze, Italy: Tipografia Giuntina, 1981).

3. No longer operating.

4. Michael Gelb, Body Learning (New York: Delilah Books, 1981).

Resources 

Richard Feynman, "Surely You're Joking, Mr. Feynman" - Adventures of a Curious Character (New York: Bantam Books, 1985). Hermann Hesse, Beneath the Wheel (New York: Noonday Press, 1969). Jean Houston, The Possible Human: A Course on Extending Your Physical, Mental, and Creative Abilities (Los Angeles: Tarcher, 1982).