When the Show Can’t Go On: The Emotional Load of Being “On” as a Barre and Pilates Teacher

Leslie Guerin • July 10, 2025

Why we need to plan for emergencies, protect our energy, and remember that teaching movement is not just physical work—it’s emotional labor.

This morning started out like any other. I woke early, dressed in layers, grabbed my coffee, and headed to Portsmouth’s waterfront for my 7am barre class. These classes have become a rhythm in my life—a way to ground my day, serve my community, and warm up my own body before teaching my 8:15am Reformer class. With the tight timing between my two classes and my commute, I’ve been teaching that early class in a public park. But today, the skies didn’t cooperate. It was raining, and I had to improvise.


So I sat in my car and taught virtually from the driver’s seat, cueing through a barre class without visual demonstration—something I can do pretty seamlessly after two and a half decades of teaching. I kept my tone upbeat, used precise language, and held the space like I always do. Teaching, even in a parked car, requires a presence—a performance of sorts. You don’t bring your stuff with you. You give your all, and your clients never really know if you’re having a hard day unless you choose to tell them.


And then my Apple Watch buzzed.


It was my mom.


I didn’t answer the first time. It buzzed again. And again. On the third call, I stopped what I was doing.


I looked at my advanced Reformer class—eyes on me, waiting—and said, “I have to take this call.”


What happened next is hard to write, harder to live through, and nearly impossible to process while standing in front of a room full of people expecting you to cue their hamstring curls.


My mother, in hysterics, told me that her best friend Georgia had died. Georgia, who is also the mother of one of my best friends. Georgia, who has been a fixture in our lives. Georgia, who is now gone.


I told my mom I loved her. I told her I would call her back. And then I turned to my class.




The Demand of Performance in Movement Teaching


If you’re not a Barre or Pilates teacher, it might be hard to understand the level of performance we’re expected to give every time we lead a class. And yes, I use the word “performance” intentionally—not because we’re faking anything, but because we’re required to be energetically present, communicative, precise, motivating, watchful, and on at all times.


We don’t get to walk into class and say, “Hey guys, I’m having a rough day, so I’ll be behind my desk if you need me.”


We don’t get to close our office door and cry.


We don’t get to go to the bathroom and collect ourselves when a call like the one I got this morning comes in.


We’re front and center. Eyes are on us. And more than that—people rely on us to hold the container. For many, we’re the most encouraging voice they hear all week. Our job is part education, part motivation, and part emotional regulation—not just for our clients, but for ourselves.


So today, when I hung up the call, I knew I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t continue teaching.


And I knew I needed help.




The Importance of Emergency Plans


I texted my manager. Asked her to cover my remaining day. Two more classes. Two privates. I couldn’t fake it. Not today.


And the truth is—I shouldn’t have to.


In my 25 years of teaching, I’ve learned this lesson before. One of the most unforgettable moments happened decades ago, when I was teaching at the Lotte Berk Method in New York. My manager, Fred DeVito, walked into my class and gently tapped my arm. I walked over, concerned, and he said, “You need to go make a phone call.”


He took my mic and finished the class for me.


The call was to tell me my father had been in a car accident trying to make it home to Maine. I didn’t get there in time.


Fred’s presence and quick thinking meant I didn’t have to keep teaching after getting the worst news of my life.


If you’re a studio owner, a teacher, or even a solo practitioner—please, have a plan. Know who can take over for you. Know how to bow out gracefully, or not so gracefully. Create a team, even if you’re freelance.


And if you’re a student—please, show your teacher grace.




Teaching Is Not Just Physical Work—It’s Emotional Labor


Let me be clear: I love my job. I love my clients. I love helping people move better, get stronger, and feel more connected to their bodies.


But teaching movement isn’t just a technical skill. It’s emotional work. It takes every ounce of your focus, clarity, and grounded energy to show up and lead. It means giving feedback. Adjusting clients. Motivating without pushing too hard. Offering modifications while cueing the entire class.


And that’s on a good day.


On a day like today? It feels impossible.


Because when your heart is breaking, it’s not just hard to say the words—you can’t even access the mental clarity to cue movement patterns, let alone correct form or offer encouragement.


I told my mother this morning, “I don’t have the kind of job where I can just go cry in the bathroom.”


That’s what we sign up for when we teach. And it’s why having backup, boundaries, and community matters so much.




How to Prepare (As Much as You Can)


If you’re a newer teacher, here’s what I wish someone had told me years ago:


  1. Have an Emergency Protocol
    Know who you can call. Know who has your playlists, your Zoom link, your Reformer sequence. Share your schedule with one trusted colleague. Keep things accessible in case someone has to step in quickly.
  2. Give Yourself Permission to Cancel
    This one is hard. We pride ourselves on being consistent, reliable, energetic leaders. But we are human. If you get news that shatters your world, you are allowed to say, “I cannot teach today.”
  3. Talk to Your Studio or Employer About Crisis Support
    If you run a studio, implement a “Fred policy.” That means someone always knows how to step in, even if it’s just to hold space. If you’re staff, talk to your manager now—before something happens—about how emergencies are handled.
  4. Practice Being Honest with Clients
    Clients don’t need the whole story, but being honest in small ways builds trust. “I’m having a tough morning, so today’s class might be quieter, more focused.” Or “I’m not feeling 100% but I’m here, and I’m grateful you are too.”
  5. Notice Your Own Patterns
    After 9/11, I needed to teach. I needed the focus. After my dad died, I needed time. There’s no one-size-fits-all response to tragedy. Notice your tendencies and honor them.





A Final Note for the Grievers, the Teachers, and the Humans


Today, I’m not just a teacher—I’m a friend mourning alongside one of my dearest friends who just lost her mom. I’m a daughter trying to comfort my own grieving mother. I’m a woman with a full, heavy heart.


And I’m someone who believes that we do our best work when we’re supported—not when we power through, disconnect, or hide our feelings in the name of “being professional.”


The work we do matters. But Barre and Pilates aren’t open-heart surgery. No one dies if we miss a cue or need to cancel class.


So let this be your reminder: if the show needs to be canceled, it’s okay to lower the curtain.


Cry when you need to.


Ask for coverage.


Train your backups.


Let your clients see your humanity.


And teach others—by example—that showing up for your own life is more important than teaching one more perfect class.




Because while we might be used to holding it all together, we’re allowed to fall apart sometimes too.


By Leslie Guerin February 22, 2026
There is a common misunderstanding about Pilates that has grown louder over the years: that it is meant to be gentle, slow, soft and easy. A “nice” workout. But that was never the intention. Pilates was not created to be performative. It was created to be effective. Effectiveness in movement does not come from looking impressive. It comes from precision. Somewhere along the way, the visual of Pilates became louder than the method itself. Long limbs moving with beautiful choreography and endless repetitions. Classes that look like Pilates. But looking like Pilates, being called Pilates and being Pilates are not the same thing. And most people, including many teachers, skip the part that actually makes it work. Pilates Was Never Meant to Be Performative Joseph Pilates did not design a system that rewarded momentum. He designed a system that required attention. Not attention to how something looks, though that is how you can tell if the exercises is executed properly. The attention should ideally be to how something is done. Modern fitness culture thrives on performance. Movement is filmed, shared, and packaged visually. The more dynamic it looks, the more engaging it appears. The more repetitions, the more it seems productive. This is where Barre and Pilates differ. This is where those lines have blurred and I quietly hope Pilates can resists this fad. A well-taught Pilates class may look almost uneventful from the outside. To someone expecting entertainment, it can seem understated. To the nervous system, it is deeply demanding. Because Pilates was never designed to entertain the eye. It was designed to reorganize the body. It is art, but not for arts sake. Precision Requires Attention Precision creates actual change. When movement becomes rushed, the body defaults to habit. Stronger muscles take over. Momentum replaces control. Alignment becomes approximate instead of intentional. Slowing down in Pilates is not about being gentle. It is about being accurate. It allows the brain to register position, and control. It gives the body time to respond instead of react. Precision is not passive. It is neurologically active. Holding a half curl with the neck long, ribs quiet, and breath organized requires far more attention than swinging through ten repetitions with momentum. Performing a leg circle without pelvic movement demands significantly more control than making the circle bigger or faster. The difficulty in Pilates is rarely about load. It is about coordination. Coordination should not be rushed for the sake of getting in more repetitions. Many Classes Look Like Pilates, But Aren’t Being Taught to Bodies This is where the disconnect becomes most visible. Exercises are demonstrated, copied and followed. Social media has taken the see and steal culture to new lengths! This leads to the body in front of the teacher is not being taught properly. Clients are becoming carbon copies of braod movements seen online and just simply being asked to replicate. There is a difference between cueing choreography and teaching movement. When classes focus primarily on what the exercise should look like, participants often compensate without realizing it. The neck grips during abdominal work. The hip flexors dominate leg movements. The lower back absorbs what the abdominals were meant to support. From the outside, everything appears correct. From the inside, the wrong muscles are doing the work. I know this to be true, because I have definitely performed Pilates.. and on an off day... I am sure I will unfortunately do this again. This has allowed me to really see though, that Pilates teaching requires observation. It requires adjusting range of motion, tempo, setup, and intention based on the individual body, not the idealized version of the exercise. Because the goal of Pilates is not uniform movement. It is intelligent movement. Real Pilates Feels Quieter, and More Demanding Neurologically One of the most surprising experiences for clients transitioning from performative classes to precise Pilates is how “quiet” it feels. There is less rushing and far less choreography for the sake of variety. Yet, thes classes often feels more challenging. Not because it is harder in the traditional fitness sense. But because it requires sustained mental engagement. You cannot mentally check out during precise Pilates. You are asked to notice: Where your ribs are How your pelvis is responding Whether your neck is assisting unnecessarily If your breath is supporting or disrupting the movement Which muscles are initiating versus compensating This level of awareness increases the neurological demand significantly. The brain is actively mapping movement rather than passively repeating it. That is why Pilates can feel deceptively demanding even when the exercises appear small or controlled. It is not about exhaustion. It is about organization. Gentle Is Often a Misinterpretation of Control When Pilates is described as gentle, it is usually because it lacks impact, heavy loading, or aggressive pacing. But low impact does not equal low intensity. Holding alignment under control. Moving without compensation and maintaining precision through fatigue. These are not gentle skills. They are refined skills. In fact, when Pilates is taught with true precision, many clients realize they have been overworking the wrong areas for years. Their hip flexors tire quickly. Their neck becomes aware. Their deep abdominals fatigue in ways they never noticed before. Not because the workout is harsher. But because it is finally specific. Specificity feels different than intensity. Why Precision Gets Skipped Skipping precision is rarely intentional. It is often the result of: Large class sizes Fast-paced programming Overemphasis on choreography Teacher insecurity around slowing things down The pressure to make classes feel “worth it” through visible effort Precision requires time. It requires observation. It requires confidence in subtlety. And subtle teaching can feel risky in a culture that equates visible sweat with value. But when precision is skipped, the method gradually becomes diluted. Exercises become shapes instead of tools. Cueing becomes generalized instead of specific. And the neurological depth of Pilates is replaced with surface-level movement. Teaching Pilates to Bodies, Not to Exercises One of the most important shifts a teacher can make is moving from teaching exercises to teaching bodies. An exercise is not the goal. It is the vehicle. Two people performing the same movement may need entirely different cueing, range, and pacing to achieve the intended outcome. Precision means recognizing that and adjusting in real time. It means allowing fewer repetitions with better execution. It means refining setup before adding progression. It means valuing stillness as much as movement. And perhaps most importantly, it means being willing to make the class feel quieter in order to make it more effective. Because when the body is truly learning, it does not need constant spectacle. It needs clarity. The Quiet Demanding Nature of True Pilates Clients who experience precise Pilates often describe it the same way: “It felt small, but I was working so hard.” “I had to concentrate the whole time.” “It was harder than it looked.” This is not accidental. When the nervous system is fully engaged, even controlled movements require significant effort. The demand shifts from gross muscular output to refined neuromuscular coordination. That is the part most people skip. And it is also the part that creates lasting change. Not bigger movements. Better ones. A Method That Rewards Thoughtfulness Pilates does not reward rushing. It does not reward performance. It does not reward spectacle. It rewards attention. It rewards consistency. It rewards intelligent progression. It rewards teachers who are willing to observe rather than simply lead. And in a fitness landscape that increasingly prioritizes how movement looks on camera, this quiet precision becomes even more valuable. Because bodies do not improve through performance. They improve through accurate, repeated, intentional movement. Reclaiming Precision in Modern Pilates Reclaiming precision does not mean making Pilates rigid or overly clinical. It means returning to its original intelligence. It means: Teaching fewer exercises more effectively Slowing down when needed Cueing for sensation, not just shape Observing compensation patterns Prioritizing neurological engagement over visual intensity When this happens, Pilates stops feeling “gentle” in the dismissive sense and starts feeling deeply effective. Subtle. Focused. Demanding in the way that truly organized movement always is. And that is where the real method lives. Not in performance. Not in speed. Not in how impressive it appears. But in the precision that most people overlook. Pilates doesn’t need to be harder.
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