Yoga Teachers, You May Want to Reconsider These Cues

In yoga teacher training, I was taught to give students cues in the form of commands. For years, I obeyed this directive when leading classes. Not only did I tell students exactly what to do, I told them how far to go, saying things like, “Bend your knee 90 degrees” and “Lift your right leg parallel to the floor.” I believed that this clear, direct phrasing—and my own unswerving certainty—supported students and helped them feel safe.

I was wrong.

It wasn’t until I started to teach a wider variety of students with a wider variety of needs that I realized the authoritative language I was using wasn’t as supportive as I intended—and that it could have actually caused students to feel excluded or even unsafe.

Making a shift toward more invitational language took some getting used to and, if I’m honest, is something I’m still wrapping my head around. But it has triggered a seismic change in my approach to teaching and my understanding of yoga itself.

Why the Words Yoga Teachers Say Matter

Cues are one of the greatest tools yoga instructors have to help students feel more secure. And they’re perhaps most effective when they empower students’ sense of autonomy.

The language you use in yoga class needs to convey that the student has a choice, says Brendon Abram, author of Teaching Trauma-Sensitive Yoga. “This means not only the choice to do something, but even more importantly, the choice not to do something without fear of being judged,” he adds.

Abram also prioritizes cues that invite exploration. Rather than telling students how to stand or breathe or move their toes, more explorative cueing might sound like, “Stand in whatever way feels good. Allow yourself to breathe freely and naturally. Maybe you explore how it feels to move your toes.”

Though Abram’s approach is a result of his work with trauma-informed yoga, he emphasizes its potential to benefit all students. “I think that language that supports trauma encourages self-discovery—as opposed to more directive language that tells people how or who to be. Language that allows a student to explore the self—mind, body and soul—makes the yoga belong to the person who is practicing it rather than the person who is teaching,” according to Abram. “With this approach, the instructor is not an all-knowing authority. The teacher becomes a supportive companion on this journey of exploration,” he adds.

Shelly Prosko, physical therapist, yoga therapist, and co-author of Yoga and Science in Pain Care, also favors offering options and using wording that “promotes curiosity” over giving commands, especially for students experiencing chronic pain.

This doesn’t mean overwhelming students with options or leaving them without guidance. Rather, it means illuminating a couple workable pose variations without ranking one above another, and delivering guidance without pushiness or fear-inducing language. This encourages students to tune into their own bodies and trust themselves.

It’s also important that yoga teachers ask themselves: “Am I imposing my will, fears, expectations, wants, judgments, or preconceptions onto students?” If the answer is yes, it’s time to explore how to refocus a cue on the students.

Phrases Yoga Teachers May Want to Ditch—and What to Say Instead

Students may perceive the following cues as commands. But there are ways to soften or swap out these phrases for more supportive language. As a teacher, that doesn’t mean you need to immediately overhaul your every cue. Instead, test one or two changes to start and notice how they seem to land with your students.

1. “You Should”

“Shoulds” can crop up all over yoga classes, not just in the context of what students “should” do but what they “should” feel. “You should be breathing in and out through your nose.” “You should feel this in your core.”

But this word isn’t always conducive to creating a supportive atmosphere.

“‘Should’ is a loaded, value-based judgement,” says Prosko. A “should” can impose a feeling of inadequacy and rob a student of an opportunity to develop their own awareness.

Prosko gives an example: “If a person in pain relies on someone else telling them exactly what to do or how to feel, they may not have the opportunity to discern for themselves when to pause, modify, or increase a challenge, which is essential for pain management,” she explains.

Instead of telling students what their experience should be, try asking:

• “What do you feel?”
• “How does it feel to breathe in and out through your nose?”
• “Where do you feel the sensation in your body?”

These questions encourage the awareness that ultimately helps students figure out what, if any, changes they need to make for a pose or a movement to feel comfortable.

2. “I Want You To…”

Sometimes teachers say things such as, “I want you to breathe this way,” “I want you to lift your leg,” or even, “I want you to take a break.”

Although these constructions may sound harmless, some students will find themselves trying to please the teacher by overriding their own wants during practice.

Instead, it may be more helpful to ask the students what they want:

• “Do you want to try X, Y, or Z?”
• “What do you want to do here?”
• “Do you want a break to reconnect to your breath?”

Prosko further empowers students by reminding them that they don’t have to wait for her invitation to modify a pose, take a break, or care for themselves in any way. “Part of your yoga practice is to learn to decide on your own what you want; this is a chance to practice trusting yourself,” she says.

And she models compassion by validating moments of uncertainty. After asking students questions, she reassures them by saying, “If you aren’t sure, that’s okay. That’s part of why we’re here: to practice getting better at knowing.”

3. “Do This *This* Much!”

Giving nonnegotiable cues—especially those that specify to what extent or how many times to do something—can unintentionally pressure students. In some classes, an alternative is to use language that includes more questions, possibilities, and maybes.

Instead of telling someone to bend their knee to 90 degrees, you can say, “See how much of a bend in the knee feels comfortable for you today.” Rather than instruct students to lift their leg parallel to the floor, try saying something like, “Maybe lift your right leg a bit to see how it feels—or don’t. You’re in charge of you.”

Both Abram and Prosko favor “What happens if” constructions that invite students to explore actions they’re comfortable with, notice the sensations that arise, and proceed with their best judgment. You can do this by asking questions such as, “What happens if you bend your knee a bit more? A bit less? What do you observe your breath doing?”

4. “Don’t”

Statements that start with “don’t,” although intended to be helpful, may actually come across as scary-sounding injunctions. For instance, “Don’t bend your knee more than 90 degrees,” implies that something bad will happen if students do. More neutral language such as, “See how far you can comfortably bend your knee today,” or, “Bend your knee just as much as feels good,” can call attention to a specific movement without sounding an alarm.

“Language that suggests the body-mind is fragile can potentially increase pain,” according to Prosko. She points to considerable research into the effects of “nocebos” (anything that causes the expectation of harm), which shows that negative, pain-focused wording has the potential to worsen a range of symptoms.

Rather than raising concern about potential discomfort, she’s more likely to emphasize students’ innate sense of resilience by asking, “What could you try to feel more confident or strong in this pose?” or focus on the positive with “Is there anything you can do in this posture to feel more ease? Peaceful? Pleasant? Joyful?”

You can also encourage students with general reminders at the start of and throughout class, such as, “Give yourself permission to stay within a feel-good range of motion.” If you usually prompt students to notice tension in their bodies, cue them instead to notice if there are places that feel relaxed and comfortable.

5. “Full Expression” or “Level 1, 2, 3”

Often used to refer to the traditional or most common version of a pose, “full expression” can cause more problems than you realize. If students perceive themselves as unable to do something “fully” (which implies “more complete” and maybe even “better”), it could lead to self-criticism or feelings of defeat.

To help make yoga an arena for self-acceptance rather than self-judgment, teachers can refrain from placing value on the different versions of poses.

Instead of framing one version of a pose as being somehow “fuller” than another, Abram may say, “your full expression of the pose.” To take the emphasis off achievement, he reminds students that “we are all put together differently, so the same pose will naturally look different from person to person.”

The same applies to the term “levels.” Though you may consider it helpful to indicate to students which poses are more or less challenging, “levels” can also imply that some versions of practicing are superior.

Replacing a single word may do the trick. Prosko proposes that instead of saying “level 1, 2, or 3,” you simply say “option 1, 2, or 3.” To add a sense of humor, she suggests yoga instructors describe options more playfully, for instance, “No spice, mild, medium, hot, or extra hot.”

How Invitational Language Also Helps Teachers

I’ve found students in general group classes to be remarkably open to, and seemingly relieved by this approach. And yoga teachers can benefit as well. Making a shift toward more invitational language has felt liberating to me as a teacher—inviting me to give up some of the control I thought I had to exert over students’ experience of yoga.

It’s a reminder that I don’t have to be an expert on what works best for them. I can step out of the way and let the practice be theirs, not mine.