A yoga studio’s website is not opened once. It is opened on a Tuesday at six,
by someone standing on a pavement deciding whether there is still a class
worth walking to. It is opened again on Sunday by the same person, planning a
week. Whatever else is on the site, that person is going to one page.
Template catalogs are full of yoga sites, and almost all of them treat the
timetable as a picture. The schedule is either a block of hand-written HTML or
a booking widget dropped in from elsewhere, which means the studio keeps its
real schedule somewhere else and copies it here. Copies drift. A class moves
half an hour and the website says the old time for a month.
So in this template the schedule is data. A class is a record with a level, a
duration and a plain sentence about who it is not for. A session points at a
class and at a teacher. The weekly grid is built from those sessions, which
means it cannot disagree with the class pages, and a teacher who leaves cannot
be quietly left on a Thursday evening — the reference breaks and the build
stops.
The rest follows from the same idea. Membership, a ten-class pack and a single
drop-in belong on one page, because that is the comparison a person is
actually making. What to bring and when to arrive belong on their own page,
because the question is asked by someone who has never been and will not go
looking. And nothing here counts places left in a room, because a marketing
site does not know that and should not pretend to.