I recently dropped a class I’d been teaching for nearly 22 years. Monday nights at 6 p.m. at Carrboro Yoga Company—a class that was on the schedule since the literal day the studio opened on March 1, 2004. Walking away was one of the most bittersweet decisions I’ve ever made as a yoga teacher. But it was also one of the best.
We talk a lot in the yoga world about how to get classes—how to approach a studio, how to land that coveted spot on the schedule. But what about the other end of the class life cycle? What about knowing when it’s time to walk away from something you’ve built?
Whether you’ve been teaching a class for two months or two decades, the process is the same: pay attention to the signs, trust your gut, and give yourself permission to make a change.
Going Out on Top
Here’s the thing about my Monday night class. In the last year or so of teaching it, I was really on top of my game. The students were devoted. The energy was beautiful. Everything was clicking.
And that’s exactly when I knew it was time to go.
There’s a sports analogy I keep coming back to. Think about Michael Jordan. The first retirement in 1993—he walked away as a three-time champion, arguably the best player in the world. That was going out on top. And then there was the Wizards era. He came back at 38, and while he was still Michael Jordan, it wasn’t the same.
I didn’t want a Wizards era for my Monday night class. I wanted to walk away while the room was full, while the students were thriving, while I still loved showing up.
The Signs It Might Be Time
So how do you know when it’s time to let go? In 20+ years of teaching and 15 years of studio ownership, I’ve watched this decision play out many times—with my own classes and with other teachers’ classes. Here are some signs worth paying attention to.
A drop in your numbers. If attendance has been steadily declining and you’ve tried everything to turn it around, that’s data worth considering. Sometimes a class just fizzles. The neighborhood changes. A competing studio opens nearby. Students’ schedules evolve. Not every class is meant to last forever, and that’s okay.
A gut sense. A quiet knowing that this chapter is complete, even if you can’t fully articulate why. And here’s the thing about gut sense: sometimes one letting-go leads to another. For me, the growing awareness that it was time to release my Monday night class opened the door to a much bigger conversation—about whether it was time to let go of my half of studio ownership entirely.
Burnout. That feeling of dragging yourself to teach rather than being energized by the opportunity. When teaching starts to feel like an obligation rather than an offering, pay attention.
The math. When you factor in your prep time, your driving time, your setup and breakdown, your actual teaching—is the compensation honoring the value you’re providing? Sit down and write out the real numbers. Not just what you’re paid per class, but what you’re earning per hour when you account for all the hours. That number can be sobering. And it can clarify decisions.
A change in your circumstances. For me, it was several things converging. I’d sold my half of the studio. I’d moved from Carrboro to Hillsborough. When daylight saving time kicked in and I realized I’d be driving home in the dark, I felt it in my body: I was done.
Walking Away with Grace
Once you recognize the signs, here’s how to handle the transition.
Do some honest reflection. Calculate your real hourly rate. Think about how this class fits into your larger teaching life. Is it feeding other parts of your work—bringing private clients, workshop attendees, or students who follow you to other classes? Or is it draining energy from the work that matters most?
Consider the timing. If you can, choose your exit point intentionally. Give appropriate notice—both to the studio and to your students. You don’t have to disappear overnight.
Think carefully about how and when to tell your students. My advice: don’t overestimate your importance. Downplay the magnitude of the decision. And don’t announce it immediately before or after class—your students are vulnerable in those moments.
When it was my turn, I followed advice from a friend who had recently sold her own studio: send an email on a Thursday morning (my class was on Mondays, so that gave students a few days to process). Text your most devoted regulars first so they hear it from you personally.
It worked beautifully. Almost everybody who showed up to class after that email said, “Congratulations on your retirement.” Which was exactly what I wanted. I hadn’t made a big deal out of it, and neither did they.
Think about what happens to the class. When you let go, what becomes of that time slot? Whether you can recommend a replacement or simply let the studio handle it depends on your relationship with the studio. But it’s worth having the conversation. You’ve built something. It’s nice to know it will continue.
What Opens Up When You Let Go
Here’s what I didn’t fully anticipate: how much freedom letting go of one class would create beyond just that single time slot. When you’re committed to a weekly class, your whole calendar bends around it. When that commitment lifts, possibilities open up that you couldn’t have imagined.
My husband and I just got back from a planned week of vacation that became an impromptu 17-day stay in Mexico. We want to spend more time at our home in the mountains. None of that would have been possible with a Monday night anchor.
And the hardest part—trusting that my students would be okay—turned out to be less hard than I’d feared. As yoga teachers, we should have a form of strategic obsolescence built into our work. We’re not here to make our students dependent on us. We’re here to help them as much as we can for as long as we can—and then trust that they’ll continue their journey.
Your students have agency. They’ll find other classes, other teachers, other anchors. Some of them might even start teaching themselves. You served them well for the time you were there. That matters. And it’s also okay to let go.
And don’t worry too much about regret. Almost everything is undoable—as long as you’re not burning bridges. If you leave with grace, doors stay open.
Want to hear the full story—including the Michael Jordan analogy, my friend Lisa’s advice, and what I learned watching this decision from the studio owner’s side for 15 years? Listen to the full episode of Yoga Teacher Confidential: When to Drop a Class.
