Several years ago I set myself on the path to becoming a teacher of reading and writing, both passions of mine. And while I have had some wonderful experiences with students, I can't help but be disappointed at how much less reading and writing I do on my own as a result of the time and energy I spend in the classroom. My most prolific years as a writer were when I was in my early twenties, working at a one-hour photo lab and a dry cleaners. When I got home from those jobs, I rushed to the computer and wrote for hours. Now when I get home from school my mind isn't brimming over with characters and scenes. It's just tired.
Despite my sadness at the loss of that creativity, I'm not really willing to go back to sorting other people's laundry for a living. I've spent a lot of time in the last couple years thinking about what I could do instead and still don't have a good answer.
Last weekend I had a bit of a reality check: when you teach something, often your own practice of it can suffer. I know because I've lived it. Yet I've jumped into this yoga teacher training with nothing but enthusiasm and optimism.
Why I am taking the risk of sucking all the joy out of another passion? Is it possible for me to use this awareness to prevent burnout? It has made me start scaling back all the "big plans" I was making for teaching yoga. I'm going to start small and stay small until I can see how teaching is affecting my own practice.
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