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Looking out at the see of faces I wondered if I was in the right place. I was a newly qualified Fitness Instructor and this was supposed to be my happy, eager and awaiting class.
However, unless I was mistaken their look was distinctly unfriendly. I shuddered in my trainers, my newly rehearsed routine slipping from my mind as anxiety took a grip. Ah yes, it makes sense, their usual teacher was one of the most popular teachers and I was standing in for her. The look didn’t say thanks for helping out, it said, you are not she and therefore we reckon your rubbish. Oh gosh, I smiled weakly and hoped my routine would emerge, but already the triangular shaped grapevines I’d planned seemed a long way off.
The music blared out, the head mic was working so I faced the class and knew I was a lamb preparing to be slaughtered as whatever I had prepared, just wasn’t going to be prepared enough for this lot. The warm up went ok, then it was time to create the hi lo routine. I started off with promise, lets just say that, however, partway through I lost my thread and my bearings somewhat and joined part A to part C instead of part A to part B and all in all made a fine stew of the routine.
A few people left. I was mortified but also very relieved when the hour was over. A few people were nice, they came over and said they’d enjoyed it (did they see a potential teacher in the making?) the rest stonily left with the look of folks who’ve been chewing on lemons.
I went home to my young family and knew I had my work cut out for me. It didn’t faze me, I knew I’d just been plopped inexperienced into an advanced setting and that this was actually common practice among a lot of clubs to whittle out the stay’ers from the goers. I vowed I wouldn’t be caught out again.
A few days later it emerged that several people had complained about the class, well actually I think 90% of the class had complained. This (to put it into mortifying perspective) was the days before email, so correspondence came in envelopes still. Do you know one member had written an A4 and a half letter detailing my every mistake? The cheering thing to this tale is that I found that quite funny. I wanted to keep the letter and display it, framed upon my wall. Why celebrate only our victories when our disasters speak in such volumes too and wow I had certainly started with a bang.
The positive? People clearly expected a lot more from me as I don’t think an instructor before or since has created such a furore from one, one-hour exercise session covered as a favour by a newly qualified, green teacher. The up shot? I knew now what the benchmark was and I knew I would one day change my non supporters to supporters because I knew I could dance, I just hadn’t quite sorted out teaching.
One day, a couple of years later, I wasn’t the new kid anymore and I looked at my class of supporters and at the advanced label attached to my class status and the smiling faces of all the letter writers and thought, who in a million years would put all that together in the story, I guess it is what you call a happy ending.
