Three years into my yoga practice, I submitted $5 grand for tuition into a premiere international yoga school. Upon acceptance, I was simply floored! I expected only the most experienced of yogis to be present. Books were purchased, a new, cute uniform, too. When I entered through the gates, stationed on Cloud Nine, I was the first to arrive. So excited to meet my fellow students, I wanted to watch each as she entered the room. And one after the other, I watched overweight housewives and skinny college kids (there were some exceptions) pile into the room. Not ONE knew how to chaturanga. Not ONE knew how to lead a class. Not ONE maintained a regular yoga practice. Yet in 200 hours, after listening to some old guy read stories about the bhagavad gita, they would be certified to teach yoga, noted with an RYT.

Anyone who can pay the tuition can be a yoga teacher in 200 hours.

Four months later, after dedicating each Sunday for eight hours to the classes, I left the programme, citing it as fraudulent. And I was refunded my entire tuition. This wouldn’t be the only time, as I kept trying, finding only laughable situations.

Yesterday, dressed in my beautiful red cloak, I, Little Red Riding Hood, published an article about Google, citing that its Laszlo Bock, senior vice president of people operations, hires based on qualification rather on formal education. And the wolves came out to eat me!

This response, which I expected, supports my case that when something flees from societal ‘norm’, it is made to feel wrong, abnormal, and or sick. Case in point: The DSM and its medical mongers. Case in point: any entrepreneur. Case in point: Me.

I was that little girl who couldn’t wear Feet Pajamas. At least that’s what I called them in the early 80s. They also go by Footed Pajamas, Jammers, and now, because of their sportage by German bobsledders in the Olympics, The Onesies. Although they didn’t completely close-off the feet in the Games, I had a terrible flashback to a childhood spent screaming about being held captive in my pajamas. Of being suffocated. Of being held prisoner. Even today, I hate socks and prefer to cut off the toes from my pantyhose when I’m wearing them to walk my dog.

I can’t be held captive, and I don’t ever foresee working for Google as their yoga teacher although it would be a great challenge and privilege! I like to make my schedule and my decisions on my terms. But it was an interesting discussion and supports my case that a person without a formal education, regardless if that’s university, beauty, business, yoga, etcetera, is treated like hell in ‘the real world’. And that totally blows.

What do you think of people who don’t have a formal ‘education’?