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When I first completed my STOTT Pilates teacher training, I remember the manuals giving us cues that looked something like this: Inhale, prepare. Exhale, lift the right leg into tabletop.
Or whatever the hell we were doing at that particular point in the exercise.
Looking back, I find this funny for a couple of reasons. First, I had a background in theater, so memorizing a script was something I was already very good at. Give me a manual, and I could deliver those cues like I was performing a play. Second, I rarely stopped to question whether every word I was saying was actually helping the person in front of me move better.
We were taught to say “prepare,” and so we said “prepare.” Often, it was paired with an inhale, which made the cue even more interesting because inhaling is, in many cases, already a natural preparation for movement.
But what does prepare actually mean to the person lying on the mat?
Early in my teaching career, a client asked me exactly that. What did I mean when I told her to prepare? I realized I had memorized the language without necessarily thinking about how it would be interpreted by someone who wasn't studying a manual. I needed an answer.
I started explaining that when I said “prepare,” I wanted the client to find neutral in the neck, back, or pelvis, depending on the exercise. It gave me a way to explain what I meant, and it helped me become more intentional about the position I wanted my clients to establish before moving.
Over time, however, I began to question whether I needed that extra step at all. If I wanted someone to find neutral, why not simply say, “Find neutral”?
This is something I encourage new teachers to consider, particularly when they are struggling with breath cues. There is so much information to manage when you're teaching: exercise names, spring settings, alignment, transitions, modifications, safety, and the individual needs of the people in front of you. It's easy to believe that good teaching means saying everything the manual says. It doesn't.
For breath, I often tell new teachers that cueing the exhale is the most important place to start. You don't necessarily need to dictate every inhale and every exhale. People arrive in class with their own natural breathing patterns, and if you constantly tell them when to inhale and when to exhale, you can create confusion when your instructions conflict with what their bodies are already doing. In many exercises, a well-timed exhale cue gives them a clear moment to organize and move without requiring you to choreograph every breath.
And what about “prepare” on its own? It can be useful. Without attaching a specific breath instruction, it may give someone a moment to take a comfortable breath, gather their attention, and get ready to move. But it depends on the situation. If the client needs a particular alignment, tell them what that alignment is. If they need to stabilize, cue the stabilization. If they simply need to move, sometimes the clearest instruction is to tell them what to do.
There's also a subtle psychological element to the word. In a regular Mat Pilates class, telling someone to “prepare” before every movement can make the exercise sound far more intimidating than it is. It can imply that something big, difficult, or potentially dangerous is about to happen. When all you're asking them to do is lift a leg, bend an arm, or roll through the spine, that extra announcement may not be helping.
Of course, I'm not suggesting that we eliminate the word entirely. Pilates apparatus work frequently includes exercises that genuinely require preparation. Before a challenging movement on the Reformer, Chair, Cadillac, or other apparatus, a clear preparation cue can be an important part of safety. It can give a client time to establish their position, understand the movement, organize their body, and listen for the next instruction. In those situations, preparation has a real job to do.
The point isn't that “prepare” is wrong. The point is that it should have a purpose.
Over the years, I've learned that becoming a better teacher doesn't always mean adding more information. Sometimes it means recognizing the unnecessary steps we've accumulated and having the confidence to remove them. We can become so focused on delivering the perfect script that we forget to communicate with the actual person in front of us.
So, the next time you hear yourself say “prepare,” pause for a moment and ask yourself: What am I asking this client to prepare for? Do they need to find neutral? Do they need to stabilize? Do they need a breath? Do they need a safety briefing? Or am I simply repeating a phrase because that's what I learned to say?
If the word serves a purpose, use it. If it doesn't, leave it out.
Because the goal isn't to sound like a Pilates manual. The goal is to help someone move.