Four weeks ago I started teaching workshops by myself for the first time. I checked that I had all of my materials twenty-seven times before leaving the office. I have heard Rachel and Simone teach this material so many times that I have their jokes memorized. I felt ready, confidant, excited.

At GLI we start every workshop with Che Che. Che Che is a call and response activity with sound and movement that gets everyone moving, having fun, looking and acting silly. The goal is to stop thinking, to turn off your brain and let your body make the first sound and movement you can think of, no self judgment, no self doubt.

I remember the first time I learned Che Che during staff orientation two summers ago. I asked, "Don't we get time to think?" The problem with thinking, I learned, is that it often holds us back, keeps us from trusting our instincts and being ourselves. Once I was told this I thought I was going to get fired, but then I wisely stopped thinking for the rest of the summer. It felt amazing. When we ask parents and daughters to take the risk of leading Che Che few raise their hands. It's hard to let go of the thought, "What will people think?" Now I can Che Che without hesitation. Teaching on the other hand is a whole other thing.

Class one. Che Che Koo Lay. The ten minute intro that I’m suppose to give maybe lasts a minute and a half. “I’m the assistant director. I’m from New York. I played basketball in college. Ummm…..here at GLI we use educational theatre. Okay. Great. Any questions?” Maybe it was a bit longer than that, but the nerves hit, the sweating began, and there I was standing before 30 people.

My dad (the actor) is an excellent public speaker. He does it at the dinner table constantly. I call it lecturing, he calls it communication. Nonetheless, my rebellious act was to avoid the spotlight in this sense. When I’ve played basketball in front of hundreds of people I thrive off of a crowd, but these 30 people clearly terrified me. You should have seen the sweating.

Class two. Che Che Ko Fee Sa. I’m prepared for the sweating. I’m wearing a black sweater and too much deodorant. We Che Che, we WHOOSH, we talk about the homework and things are going well. Forty-five minutes into the workshop my face turns bright red and I get mad at myself. I start thinking; "You made it through half the class. Why are you getting nervous now? You're fine. Why can’t you just look like your fine?" Clearly that didn’t help much. “Okay everyone, we are going to take a five minute break, go get some food and then we'll come back.” I put my face down, walk quickly outside and breathe. After class I get in the car, call my friend Rosa and started screaming about the sweating, the face, the thinking and the nerves. It felt good to vent.

Class three. Ko Fee Sa Langa. Simone and I prepped and came up with a game plan. Class three is my favorite class. We talk about messing up and doing it well. I knew this class. I knew the points. And I totally rocked this workshop.

Class four. La La She Langa. Class four is when the parents and daughters get to do most of the talking and role playing. They took over the workshop. Everyone participated. We ran fifteen minutes over. It was great.

I’m going to New York on Friday and plan to pick-up some black, blue and dark gray work wardrobe pieces. I’m sure the sweating will continue. It was always a good sign in basketball games, meant you were working hard, but in workshop it’s pretty awkward. I’m excited for my new workshop series in January. I know that I know the material. I know the games. The confidence and ability to teach in a relaxed way will come. Until then, every class is me up there “Che Che-ing”, letting go of the thought, "What will people think?" Just like in Che-Che, I’ve got to stop second guessing myself, stop thinking, be loud, take up space and just keep doing it.

Julia Loonin teaches and sweats in the San Francisco Bay Area.