"Teacher" was the first profession I ruled out for myself as a little girl. My mom, now retired, always knew she wanted to be a teacher, then temporarily got distracted from going to university by getting married, making money, and having a child that got severely ill as a toddler resulting in lasting disabilities. But in her mid thirties, she caught up with her studies, and became a teacher, then had me. She still says that she'd do it all over again. I ruled out teaching as a profession for no other reason than pure rebelliousness against those ever watchful mom/teacher eyes.
As a student through years of schooling and then college and grad school, continuing then with my riding education, I've become somewhat of a teacher snob. I, like many, have that 6th sense for how super-power good that teacher really is. Do they just know what's in the book (some are even dodgy on that)? Or are they bursting with burning passion for the subject and will get a kick out of finding ways to explain it to the interested? It's almost like they're vibrating on a different frequency and when you, as the student, dial into that you allow and trust the teacher to take you on some unexpected explorations -- that's where the magic happens.
So needless to say that as with anything, those super-power good teachers are few and far in between. Equally needless to emphasize, it would be pointless to try to teach unless I felt I could teach to that extreme. So there I stand before my brave student, teaching. At first a little intimidated by the responsibility and the blatant evidence of my effectiveness or lack thereof. And all the unhelpful things ever said to me rush through my head: don't say those. Don't only say what, but how. And why. My personal favorite: You've got to be faster. (Well then teach faster...).
There's also the "where do I start" -- a lot of trainers can see what needs to happen with the horse. It needs to be more forward, rounder, move off the leg better etc. Easier said than done. If the student knew how to and was physically capable of doing it, it's highly likely they would prefer to do it right. That's when I channel Tanya Vik. It always starts with the seat: The horse can only go as well as the rider can sit. Then explain why we do what we do. And always bring it back to" "over the back". And balance. Notice when the student's position falls apart because they're unfocused or because they're getting tired. Always ask: Did you feel that.
Like during my rides, I get so much into the flow of teaching, that I am completely absorbed and basically ride from the ground. Today I got so much into it that my student thought I was getting frustrated with her by repeating a request to take contact on the outside rein as many times as it took for the horse to accept that contact. I love that honest feedback, would have never occurred to me otherwise. I was super excited about the good stuff happening and was pushing her to ride even a little more proactively. And I'm glad I got the chance to clarify that. The student later said: "Silly to think that anything good would come without the hard work." Sweat equity is necessary in dressage. No question.
Other than that, I try not get my left and rights confused too often. I love my own lessons, because I've found one of those super-power good teachers. It's an impulse both for me as a rider and a teacher. And for my mom, I'm sure she's chuckling quite a bit that her daughter now teaches. Something. And that like her, a mid-life career change brought that about. So much for all that youthful rebelliousness.