Pilates teacher training: your first class plan
Your first class is coming up and you’re terrified to stand at the front of the room and teach.
So was I! Most new instructors think they need a perfect class plan. You don’t, you don’t need perfection and you don’t need improvisation — you need a starting framework so your brain isn’t overloaded.
What teacher training humbled me with very quickly is this: it takes time. You are not supposed to be brilliant on day one. You are just supposed to begin.
Class planning, with a pen and paper (yep, I’m a millennial), is what helped me.
If you are still in the early stages of deciding where to train, I wrote more about that in
how to choose a Pilates teacher training program you can commit to long-term.
Write it down
Physically write your class plan down. Not in your head. Not loosely outlined in your notes app. Write it down. Writing it forces you to think through sequencing, transitions, and timing before you’re responsible for people moving in front of you.
I structure mine in three blocks:
Warm up and foundation
Main body flow
Cool down and integration
Simple. Repeatable. Grounding. Successful class plans often fit into some version of these three phases.
When you’re nervous, structure becomes your anchor
Block 1: warm up and foundation
In my training, the warm up was fairly standard. We started with footwork.
Footwork does more than warm the legs. It settles the room. It gets the client connected to breath, to alignment, to the carriage moving under them. It warms the ankles, knees, and hips. It gives you (as the instructor) time to observe.
The warm-up isn’t only for the client. It’s for the instructor. It gives you your first read of the room. This is also when you ask:
“Is there anything in your body today that I should know about? Anything new since the last time I saw you?”
This question is less about conversation and more about safety. It tells you how to modify before problems appear. Shoulder pain. Knee pain. Low back tightness. A headache. You gather information while the springs are moving.
From there, I usually layer in some combination of core and spine. Supine abs or bridging. Something that brings awareness to the core, spine, pelvis, and ribcage. Something foundational.
The warm up is not filler. It sets the tone for everything that follows.
Block 2: build around one anchor
This is where newer teachers can get overwhelmed. You feel like you have to prove you know everything.
You do not.
Pick one anchor exercise and build around it. Good classes feel intentional. An anchor exercise gives both you and the client a through-line to follow.
Let’s say it is a lunge day and you want to use the box. Perfect. Now the box becomes your thread. You might start on the left side with a lunge or scooter series. Then place the box on long box for side rotation work. Turn to face the back for rear facing arms and core. Transition to side rotation on the other side. Bring the box back down for the second side of your lunge series.
The box never feels random. It feels intentional. You are not dragging equipment in and out for no reason. You are creating flow.
When you think this way, your planning becomes easier. You are not selecting ten disconnected exercises.
You are designing an experience around one idea.
And clients feel that.
Block 3: cool down and integrate
The cool down is where you bring them home.
Feet in straps is a favorite for a reason. Tick tock. Leg circles. Frog. Movements that decompress the hips and let the spine settle after stronger work.
Add stretches that make sense for what you programmed. Hold a hamstring stretch. Straddle to open the inner thighs. Eve’s lunge to lengthen the hip flexors if you focused on lunges.
Then finish with something slower. A static stretch. A breath. A moment of stillness.
This is where the class integrates. Clients often don’t recognize the work they did until the final minutes. The cool down is when their body processes it.
Keep your old class plans
I keep every class plan I write. Reviewing old plans shows you patterns, what consistently works, what confuses people, and where transitions break down. Some are covered in scribbles and arrows, with sections crossed out and rewritten. Others have small notes in the margins reminding me which cues worked well or where a transition felt awkward. Over time, those pages have become less about perfection and more about refinement.
I often return to older plans when building new ones. I rearrange exercises, adjust sequencing, simplify what felt complicated, and expand what resonated. The process is less about creating something entirely new and more about improving what already exists.
I also still have the very first class I ever taught. At the time, I thought it went pretty well. The clients in that apprentice class were kind and complimentary. I left feeling relieved. Looking back at that particular class plan now, it makes me giggle. I did not even program lower body. Not intentionally. I just missed it. Every teacher does this in the beginning. Planning improves faster than confidence.
And that is the point . . .
You will not see everything at first. You’ll forget something. You will over cue. You will under cue. You will learn. Learning to teach is like learning anything new later in life. It takes repetition, structure, and patience. I wrote more about that in learning new things over 40.
The first class is not meant to be your masterpiece. It is meant to be your beginning. Write it down. Pick one anchor. Build around it. Keep going. You’ll look back one day at your first class, or even your twentieth, and giggle too.
