Behind The Cue: Why I HATE Nice and Tall.
(And What to Say Instead)

There is one cue I hear in almost every movement class. It could be Pilates, barre, yoga, or during a personal training session and every time I hear it, something in my nervous system quietly revolts.
"Sit nice and tall."
I’ve said it. I still sometimes catch myself saying it. And yet I absolutely despise it.
Not because it’s offensive. Not because it’s wrong.
But because it’s useless.
"Nice" is not a descriptive word. It is not anatomical. It is not experiential. It gives the body no actual information.
It’s a filler. A habit. A verbal crutch.
And as teachers, the words we choose are not neutral. They shape how people move, how people feel, and how people understand their own bodies.
Why "Nice and Tall" Exists (And Why We Keep Using It)
"Nice and tall" didn’t come from anatomy textbooks. It came from culture.
It’s what your mom said at the dinner table. It’s what teachers said in school photos. It’s what nuns said in Catholic school while tapping your upper back with a ruler.
It’s code for:
"Don’t slouch."
Not:
"Feel your spine."
Not:
"Organize your weight."
Not:
"Find vertical lift without gripping."
Just:
"Behave."
And that’s the real problem.
"Nice and tall" is a behavioral cue, not a physical one.
It’s about appearance, not sensation.
The Barre Exercise: Folded Fire Log + Cross-Over Arm Stretch
This week’s Behind the Cue uses a classic barre position:
Sitting on the floor in a folded fire log position (one shin stacked over the other), performing a cross-over arm stretch — one arm reaching across the body while the other supports or deepens the stretch.
It’s a beautiful shape.
But it’s also a perfect example of where "nice and tall" completely fails.
Because what does "nice" tell someone in this position?
Do they:
- Lift their chest?
- Arch their back?
- Grip their shoulders?
- Jam their ribs forward?
Most people respond by stiffening. They over-correct. They brace. They perform posture instead of experiencing it.
The Memory Trigger (And Why This Cue Feels Gross)
Every time I hear "nice and tall," I’m immediately eight years old again.
Sitting at a table. Feeling a light tap between my shoulder blades.
Or a nun in high school walking past my desk.
It’s not about alignment. It’s about being told how to look.
And that emotional residue matters.
Because movement cues live in the nervous system, not just the muscles.
Some cues invite curiosity. Some invite awareness.
"Nice and tall" invites shame.
It implies:
"You are currently not acceptable."
Why This Cue Is Anatomically Empty
Let’s get literal.
The body does not know what "nice" means.
Muscles respond to:
- Load
- Direction
- Sensation
- Weight
- Pressure
Not politeness.
"Nice and tall" gives zero information about:
- Where weight should be
- Which joints should move
- What should soften
- What should organize
It is a thinking word.
A throwaway phrase.
Like "um". Or "like".
The "Like" Epidemic (And Why This Matters)
If you’ve ever lived with or raised a teenager, you know the "like" phase.
Like yeah, I was like totally like thinking that you should like maybe like not do that thing.
It’s painful.
And it’s exactly what "nice and tall" has become in the fitness industry.
A filler phrase. A default. A sound people make while their brain is transitioning to the next thought.
It adds nothing.
And worse — it blocks better cues from emerging.
What People Actually Need Instead
Posture is not about being tall.
It’s about:
- Organization
- Distribution of weight
- Relationship between bones
- Tone without rigidity
And most importantly:
It’s about feeling, not posing.
Better Cues (That Actually Do Something)
Here are cues that actually create change in the body:
1. "Feel as though you are lengthening your waist"
This creates internal space without forcing the chest.
2. "Leave room between your ears and shoulders"
Encourages neck decompression.
3. "Lift the weight out of your pelvic bones"
This is gold. It changes everything.
4. "Be light on your bones"
One of my favorites. It’s poetic and physical.
5. "Reach energy toward the sky"
Creates lift without stiffness.
6. "Imagine you’re listening to a conversation behind you"
This subtly aligns the head without force.
7. "Let your shoulders melt down your back"
Opposite of bracing.
All of these cues:
- Create sensation
- Invite embodiment
- Respect anatomy
None of them say "nice."
Sit Tall Is Enough
Here’s the part people resist:
You don’t need to be nice.
"Sit tall" is already better.
It’s direct. It’s neutral. It’s functional.
No moral overlay. No childhood ghosts.
Just information.
Why This Matters for Teachers
As teachers, our job is not to entertain. I may forget that at times, but it is true.
It is not to fill silence.
It is not to sound pleasant.
It is to:
- Translate anatomy into experience
- Use language as a tool
- And help people inhabit their bodies more intelligently
Every cue should earn its place.
If a phrase does not:
- Create clarity
- Improve sensation
- Or change behavior
It is noise.
The Real Skill: Curating Language
Great teaching is not about having more cues.
It’s about having fewer, but better ones.
Language should:
- Direct attention
- Reduce tension
- Increase awareness
Not decorate the room.
In Practice: The Fire Log Stretch
Next time you’re in this position, try this sequence instead:
"Feel the sit bones rooting into the floor."
"Lift the weight out of your pelvis."
"Let the waist lengthen upward."
"Let your shoulders soften down your back."
Notice how none of that required being nice.
But all of it created posture.
The Bigger Picture
Behind the Cue is not about shaming teachers.
It is about evolving the profession.
It is about moving away from:
- Cultural habits
- Inherited language
- And meaningless phrases
Toward:
- Precision
- Embodiment
- And respect for the nervous system
The Takeaway
"Nice and tall" does not make people taller.
It makes them try harder.
And trying harder is rarely what the body needs.
The body needs:
- Information
- Imagery
- Sensation
- And permission to soften
So the next time you feel "nice and tall" coming out of your mouth, pause.
Say something that actually helps.
Or better yet:
Say less.
Let the body do the rest.














































































































