My First Year as a Mentor: What I Learned

When I started mentoring in January 2025, I thought I understood what it meant to guide other teachers. I’d been through the eLevate mentorship with Lesley Logan myself. I knew the classical method. I had the lineage, the training, the experience.

What I didn’t know was how much my mentees would teach me.

Thank You

To the four teachers I worked with this year: you changed me. Not through what you said, but through what you showed up to do. You demanded more of me than I expected. You pushed me back into my own practice. You taught me what mentorship actually requires.

This year taught me lessons I couldn’t have learned any other way.

What I Learned

Trust matters more than expertise.

One of my mentees was my mentor first - someone who taught me, who has over twenty years of experience. Watching that role reverse taught me what trust actually means. She trusted me enough to be vulnerable, to ask questions, to admit what she didn’t know. That takes courage. It taught me that we’re always learning, that asking questions is how we stay honest, that admitting you don’t know something isn’t weakness - it’s integrity.

Self-compassion is harder than empathy for others.

I watched teachers who have endless empathy for their clients struggle to extend that same grace to themselves. Being hard on yourself while being kind to everyone else is exhausting. Learning to give ourselves the compassion we give others might be one of the hardest lessons in teaching.

Showing up through difficulty reveals what commitment actually looks like.

Some of my mentees faced health challenges this year. They still showed up to do the work - not grimly, but with humor and determination. They didn’t make excuses or wait for perfect conditions. They did the practice. That consistency through difficulty, with lightness intact, showed me what real commitment looks like - not when it’s easy, but when it costs you something.

Confidence isn’t performance.

Some teachers feel they need to prove they care, prove they know, fill every silence. But real confidence is stepping out from behind that performance and just being present. Trusting what you know without needing to demonstrate it constantly. That’s hard work, and I recognize it because it’s my work too.

You can’t control others’ commitment.

This might be one of the hardest lessons in mentoring and teaching: we can’t control what others do. We can only control what we do. Showing up consistently, even when others don’t, even when it’s isolating - that’s its own kind of strength.

What They Pushed Me to Do

Here’s what mentoring actually required of me: they pushed me out of my comfort zone and back into the system.

Self-practice became non-negotiable. Not just the exercises I’m good at or enjoy, but the messy ones. The work I avoid. The transitions that expose my weaknesses. The pieces I’d rather skip.

You can’t mentor teachers in this method if you’re not doing the method yourself. Not occasionally. Not when you feel like it. Consistently. Completely. Even - especially - the parts you don’t like or don’t feel good at.

That’s what they held me to. And it made me a better teacher.

The Real Reward

But here’s what I didn’t expect: watching their personal practice grow was more rewarding than watching their teaching improve.

Seeing them on the Reformer or Mat, feeling the work in their own bodies, understanding through lived experience rather than textbook knowledge - that’s the transformation that matters. Because that’s what they’ll pass on to their own students. Not what I told them. What they felt.

You can’t teach someone to cue an exercise they haven’t done themselves. You can’t guide a client through work you’ve only read about. The method lives in bodies, not in manuals.

Watching them move from “doing it right” to feeling it - that’s the work. That’s what makes mentoring worth it.

What They Taught Me About Being a Mentor

Beyond the practice itself, they taught me practical things I can take forward:

Getting comfortable giving honest feedback.

This was harder than I expected. Learning to say what needs to be said, clearly and directly, without softening it so much that it loses meaning. Feedback serves their growth, not my comfort.

Boundaries.

I had to learn to be a mentor, not a daughter or a friend. That’s a specific skill when you have existing relationships. The work requires a different kind of presence.

Deadlines matter.

I learned this the hard way. I let deadlines shift when I should have been firmer. Structure serves the work. Being lenient isn’t kind if it lets things drift. The process taught me to manage my time differently. I had to be accountable too - not just expect it from them.

The assessments aren’t tests.

They’re accountability. The videos force practice because someone is watching. They’re not about proving competence - they’re about preventing drift. They create the motivation to keep showing up when life gets busy or challenging.

Responsibility.

They taught me what it means to be responsible to people, not just for them. To hold standards because that’s what serves their growth, not because it makes me feel like a good mentor.

This work made me better organized, clearer on boundaries, and more committed to accountability - mine and theirs.

What Mentorship Actually Is

Mentorship isn’t cheerleading. It’s not validation or hand-holding. It’s not someone telling you you’re doing great when you’re not.

Mentorship is reciprocal growth. It’s being pushed to practice what you teach. It’s having someone witness your teaching and ask the hard questions. It’s doing the work you’d rather avoid because someone is watching whether you show up.

It’s humbling. It’s confronting. It’s necessary.

If you’re a teacher looking for more clarity, here’s what I learned: find someone who will push you back to your own practice. Find someone who won’t let you hide in competence. Find someone who asks as much of you as you ask of your clients.

If you’re a student looking for more from your classes and studio, here’s the question: is your teacher still learning? Are they still practicing? Are they pushing themselves the way they push you?

For Future Mentees

I’m opening mentorship for 2026. Here’s what working together looks like:

The program includes five weekends covering Mat, Reformer, Cadillac, Chairs, and Barrels. After each weekend, there’s an assessment - not as a test, but as accountability to keep you practicing between sessions so things don’t drift away. We’ll have solo sessions, halfway check-in calls, and feedback calls throughout. You’ll also practice with your mentoring partners.

What I’m looking for in mentees:

A commitment to personal practice.

This means showing up to the full system consistently, including the work that challenges you - not just when it’s convenient or feels good.

Openness.

We will discuss and ask questions that might challenge your thinking. Growth happens when we’re willing to explore what could evolve.

Willingness to evolve.

This isn’t about perfecting what you already do well. It’s about being ready to shift what needs shifting.

This work is for teachers who want to deepen their understanding of the classical method and who know that teaching Pilates requires doing Pilates - all of it.

If that resonates, let’s talk.

What I’m Taking Into 2026

I’m a different teacher than I was in January. Not because I learned new exercises or got better at cueing. Because I learned what it means to keep showing up - to practice, to teach, to ask questions, to give honest feedback, to hold boundaries, to trust the process.

To the four teachers I worked with this year: thank you for pushing me. Thank you for showing up, even when it was hard. Thank you for teaching me that mentorship works both ways.

To anyone reading this who wants more from their teaching or their practice: it starts with showing up. Consistently. Completely. Even when - especially when - it’ resists you.

That’s the work.

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*Interested in mentoring with me in 2026? Learn more at (https://www.eq-pilates.co.uk/legacy-mentoring)*