Deconstructing Alexandroids

A break from the norm, this is discussion is mostly for my fellow teachers, but if you are a student, there's still plenty of food for thought and self reflection in your private practice.

If you've taught the Alexander Technique for any length of time, you've likely encountered one: the Alexandroid. This isn't a term of endearment, but a moniker for the student who has entered a phase where their practice has become stiff, self-conscious, and ironically, full of interference. They are trying so hard to be right. They are "inhibiting" before every move with a visible freeze, "directing" with such intense internal narration that they seem elsewhere, and performing a parody of natural poise. The very tools meant to help find ease have become burdens. 

I first encountered this during my teacher training. There seemed to be a general culture, within the profession as a whole, that this was a common phase that students would go through, and come out the other side. In fairness, AT is a marathon, not a sprint, so in the long wrong it's probably not that big a deal, but I've always had a slight bee in my bonnet about it being an acceptable phase. Why is it pedagogically acceptable? Especially if a student doesn't have the resources for a long-term commitment to lessons. 

As teachers, we must look in the mirror when we see this. The Alexandroid is not a failed student, but a signpost pointing to a potential gap in our communication. The student is diligently following what they think we’ve asked for. So what are we failing to communicate?

The primary failure in communication is allowing the student to believe that Inhibition and Direction are goals in themselves.

The Alexandroid is performing Inhibition as a ritual pause, a solemn "NO" to every impulse, rather than understanding it as the simple, fleeting moment of not doing the habitual "end-gaining" reaction. They are using Direction as a rigid mantra to be "applied" to the body, rather than understanding it as the thinking that allows for a new, integrated psychophysical response.

They are, in essence, end-gaining towards a state of "good AT." They want to get inhibition, to have direction. In doing so, they create a new layer of "doing", a performance of the technique, which Alexander called "getting in your own way."

Absolutely. The canonical terms, Inhibition, Direction, Primary Control, and Use, can be very useful. I particularly like End-Gaining and and Means-Whereby (a quaint way to say process by today's standards). But they are also jargon. To a newcomer, they can sound like things to do, or esoteric states to achieve. 

• "Inhibit!" can sound like a command to clamp down, not to release a habitual thought.
• "Direct!" can sound like an instruction to move, to physically do something.
• "Primary Control" can sound, well, controlling!

They also may not translate well into other languages. It's absurd to think AT can only be taught in English. When we lean too heavily on this historical language without constant, living demonstration and counter-demonstration (showing what it isn't), we invite literal-mindedness. The student, eager to learn, grasps the word and tries to enact it as a discrete action. Every educational experience the student has had prior to starting Alexander lessons has primed them to behave this way. The Alexander Technique isn't a history lesson or museum exhibit, and should reflect current language use and creatively match the language of each student. The aim is to help people, not be museum curators.

Personally, I prefer to use intention rather than Direction. I find people are much more receptive to it being a quality of thought rather than perceiving it as a physical activity, which we then ask them not to do. We've all seen that look of confusion!

AT has has been criticised in the past for being too elitist, and being wedded to professional jargon adds to this perception. A culture of "some people just won't get it", as if it's the student's fault doesn't help either.

It has also been common practice to circumvent the issue of language by teaching mostly silently with hands-on guidance to provide the student with an experience. The problem here, in my opinion, is it leaves the student lacking an intellectual hook to tie the experience to, in order to have a path to renew it. It essentially denies them agency and makes the student feel reliant on the teacher. That's not teaching, it's therapy.

The remedy isn't to abandon the principles, but to translate them into the language of everyday experience. We need to bridge the gap between the concept and the application.

Instead of "Inhibit," we might say:

• "Notice the urge to just jump into the movement. Can we let that urgent instruction from your brain just... pass by for a second?"
• "Hang on a moment before you react. Give yourself the gift of that space."
• "What if you could surrender your desire for control?"

 Instead of "Direct," we might explore: 

• "Can you have the intention to let your head go forward and up like this?"
• "Let's think about the room being spacious around you, your reason to move, rather than thinking about your body."
• "Can you positively engage with the upwards support of the floor" (needs a prior conversation about Einstein's theory of gravity, replacing the more common used, but incorrect, Newton theory)

This colloquial language is less prescriptive and more suggestive. It points to a quality of attention, not a set of commands. They're intentions that the nervous system can interpret organically, without the intellect seizing it as a manual instruction. AT isn't the jargon, it's an experience born out of awareness and intention.

1. It’s About Subtraction, Not Addition: The work is about removing excess tension, not adding "correct" tension. The Alexandroid is adding the tension of "performing AT." We must constantly guide them back to noticing what they are doing and inviting them to let it go.
2. The Thought is the Activity: The Direction isn't a prelude to the movement; the thoughtful, released state is how you move. We need to get them out of the cycle of "Direct, THEN move," and into "Move WITH this quality of thinking."
3. It’s a Quality of Attention, Not a Technique: The Technique is a framework to learn a new, global quality of attention, an open, receptive, undoing awareness. The Alexandroid has turned it into a localized technique to "fix" themselves. We must bring them back to the wholeness of their experience.

To prevent the Alexandroid phase, we must consistently bring the work back to simplicity and practicality. Laugh about it. Show them the comedy of overdoing it. Contrast the stiff, "directed" attempt with a simple, free movement. Use touch not to "place" them, but to illustrate a quality of release they are momentarily experiencing.

Our job is not to create perfect executors of a procedure, but to guide people toward a simpler, more natural state of poise that was always there, obscured by habit. When we see the Alexandroid, it’s our cue to drop the jargon, reconnect with the profound simplicity of the work, and say, "I notice you're working very hard. What if we tried a little less? What if we just wondered what would happen if you weren't responsible for being 'right'?"

That’s when the real learning begins.

I also wonder if it's become less of an issue as society becomes less formal in general, and each new generation of teachers feels less veneration towards the historical terms, and this is, hopefully, just an old hang up of mine.