Yes, I let my yoga students be loud before class. Here’s why.

Every Sunday morning for the past seven years, I walked into a noisy room full of students to teach a heated vinyasa class. Noisy as in the dressing room, festive night out, noisy at restaurant level. It is far from peaceful shalas I have practiced for years in rooms where even a whisper was frowned upon.

I am a rule follower by nature. I respect a “shhh quiet” policy that some studios and teachers enforce. But as a teacher, I have learned to welcome—and even love—that sound.

The sounds before class are those of excitement, joy and connection. Friends and strangers chatting, catching up, making plans. When I hear that sound, I think of all the other places where strangers gather and see familiar faces again and again, including working out at gyms and standing in line at the coffee shop. But how often do we as humans strike up a quick conversation with someone we don’t know?

I like being able to use that time to connect. I’ve even started some classes with the encouragement, “When you stand next to someone new, introduce yourself.” I think people are more likely to come back if they know someone, if they feel part of the group, if they share in the buzz. Noise takes away the intimidation that silence can bring.

Of course it is important that everyone can find his or her zen before the asana practice begins, and I support and facilitate that silence. So when the time comes, I invite students to quiet the internal and external chatter so that everyone has a chance to focus. Conversations end and as we start to focus on our breathing, the energy in the room shifts.

What doesn’t change is the feeling that the studio is a safe place, with practitioners who are more than strangers to each other.

Only once before class did I hear a loud “SHHHHH!” from someone in the room. I quickly jumped on the mic and said, “I’m happy to chat in this room. I promise we’ll have time to center.” If I notice that the classroom is becoming noisier than normal or that there are quite a few new people in the classroom, I briefly explain to the students as they enter that this is a nice group and that I consider the noise to be sounds of joy and that I welcome it.

The chatter and laughter also helps people relax. I think about the time years ago when I accidentally made a noise as I put down my mat in a quiet room. I felt like everyone would be staring at me. There is an undeniably relaxed atmosphere that creates the pre-class noise. My classroom is a safe place where students can show up however they want, and they know it. Those fifteen minutes or so before class starts is as much their time as it is mine.

There are other ways I do my best to meet students where they are. I offer adjustments, remind them to always listen to their bodies first, and explain that knowing when to rest is a strength. If I notice that my lesson is going slower than normal, I slow down the lesson and deviate from the order I had planned. When it’s someone’s birthday, I secretly add a birthday song to the playlist. If someone tells me they have to leave early to get to work, I make sure they have a seat near a door. Lying on the mat at 8 a.m. on Sunday morning to spend time doing yoga is enough for me.

This space and these students have answered this safety for me. I know that with this group I can show up as my most authentic self. When I want to try a new transition or asana I haven’t learned yet, test out a new cue, or introduce a new song to the playlist, this is the class where I do it.

Not long after I started teaching this class, I noticed how special it was. I’m always okay with talking before my classes, but Sunday is my biggest class and naturally more talkative. At some point, I can’t remember when, I decided not to fight the chatter. The Sunday morning chatter somehow gave way to the Sunday morning regulars. Students have brought their neighbors, co-workers, siblings, spouses, parents and adult children to class. It has become the most beautiful community. There is even a group of students who meet for a cup of coffee in the courtyard after class. I wonder what would have happened if I had embraced the silence and asked for a quiet room? How much longer would it have taken for students to learn a stranger’s name? It’s incredible to see how the connection created in the classroom carries over into life.