When a class ends and it wasn’t your choice, the emotions can hit harder than you’d expect. Maybe the studio cut your slot. Maybe an illness or injury forced you to step away before you were ready. Maybe a move, a caregiving responsibility, or a job change made it impossible to keep showing up.
This is a different kind of closure—and it deserves more than a shrug and a “move on.”
I’ve been on both sides of this. I’ve been a yoga teacher for over 20 years, and I’ve had classes that didn’t work out. But I was also a yoga studio owner for 15 years. I’ve sat across from teachers and had that hard conversation. So I want to talk about what this experience looks like from both angles—and what you can do when you’re in the middle of it.
The Different Ways This Happens
Not every situation is the same, and the details matter.
The most common scenario is when the studio cuts your class. Maybe the numbers weren’t there. Maybe new ownership is restructuring everything. Maybe your time slot is being given to a teacher with a bigger following. Sometimes it’s a mutual recognition—you both see it’s not working. But sometimes it catches you completely off guard.
Then there’s illness or injury. This one is brutal because it often comes with uncertainty. Is this temporary or permanent? When can you go back—or can you? And underneath all of that is the identity piece: if you can’t teach yoga, who are you?
And finally, life circumstances. You’re moving cities. You’ve taken on a caregiving role. Your day job shifted. The class is still there—you just can’t be. This one can feel like grief without closure.
What You Might Be Feeling
Before we get to the practical side, I want to validate what might be happening inside.
You might be feeling shock—even if there were signs, it can still feel like the rug got pulled out. You might be feeling grief, because this is a real loss. You had students. You had a rhythm. You had a place in that community.
You might be feeling shame. This is a big one. So many yoga teachers think, “My class was cut, so I must be a bad teacher.” I want to be very clear: that is not true.
You might be feeling anger or resentment toward the studio. That’s natural. You gave them your time, your energy, your expertise. And you might even be feeling relief—and that’s okay too. Sometimes we don’t realize how much a class was draining us until it’s gone.
All of these feelings are valid. Don’t rush past them.
Reframes That Might Help
It wasn’t the right fit of time and place. Different student populations show up at different times. Three p.m. is generally a terrible time slot—but it worked great at my studio for a class called Yoga for Daily Life, which attracted retirees. The exact same class at a different time or a different studio might thrive. The combination didn’t work—that doesn’t mean you’re a bad teacher.
Low numbers aren’t always about you. Neighborhood demographics shift. Competing studios open. The economy changes. You can be an excellent teacher with a struggling class. Those two things are not the same.
Studios have constraints you can’t see. Rent, payroll, insurance, politics with other teachers, pressure from landlords. The decision to cut your class might have nothing to do with your teaching and everything to do with the studio’s survival math.
I’ll be honest: this has happened to me. For over a decade, I taught regularly at the Kripalu Center for Yoga and Health—once or twice a year. After the pandemic, the numbers never recovered. And eventually, they stopped inviting me. Did it sting? Sure. But as a former studio owner, I understood it. You can’t keep offering programs that won’t break even. It’s math, not malice.
And one data point isn’t a verdict. A class that didn’t work at one studio might be exactly what another studio needs. Don’t let this single experience define your entire teaching career.
What to Do Next
Let yourself feel it. Don’t rush to “fix” the situation or spin the story. The grief is real. Honor it.
Get clarity on the “why” if you can. Ask the studio owner directly—not to argue, but to understand. “Can you help me understand what led to this decision?” The answer might hurt, but it might also give you useful information for your next opportunity.
Consider whether there’s recourse. Can you propose a different time slot? Can you offer to market the class more actively? Is a trial period possible? Sometimes asking opens a door.
Think about saying goodbye. If you can have a final class to close the chapter with your students, take it. It gives you closure and lets your students process the transition too.
Resist the urge to badmouth. The yoga world is small. Your next opportunity might come through someone who knows the studio owner. Leave with grace, even if you’re upset. Your reputation is one of your most valuable assets.
Look for the next door. What does this free you up for? Another studio? A different format? Teaching online? Private clients? The ending of one thing is always the beginning of something else.
From the Other Side of the Desk
I want to share something from my years as a studio owner, because I think it helps to understand what’s going on behind the scenes.
Studio ownership is hard. In 15 years of running Carrboro Yoga, I had to cut teachers’ classes. Most of the time it was mutual—we both saw it wasn’t working. But sometimes it wasn’t, and those conversations were the hardest part of the job.
What I wish teachers understood is this: we’re not trying to hurt you. We’re trying to keep the studio alive. Rent is due every month. Payroll has to be met. Sometimes that means making decisions that feel personal but aren’t.
When my business partner and I first bought the studio, the two biggest draws on our schedule left to open their own studio—a block away. A hedge fund manager I was teaching privately looked at me and said, “What on earth are you doing? If they worked for me, they would be escorted out by security.”
That was a wake-up call. I was being a little too yoga and not enough business. And the lesson stuck: when teachers leave for a competitor, be clear, be professional, and protect the business. It’s not personal vendetta—it’s business protection. Understanding that might help it sting a little less if you’re ever on the receiving end.
You Are Not Your Class
A class ending—even one you didn’t choose to end—is not a verdict on your worth as a teacher. It’s one chapter closing.
If you’re going through this right now, talk to a therapist, a coach, or a mentor who understands the yoga world. Find an in-person teaching community. You don’t have to process it alone.
Want to hear the full conversation, including more stories from both sides? Listen to this week’s episode of Yoga Teacher Confidential.
