Well, there's about a month left to go before the baby arrives, and training up until now has been really interesting. The class has gotten used to seeing my belly grow, and I've been able to keep teaching and working out (although modified). I've had to reduce the time spent on my feet (up to two hours) which means that my time has been limited with additional classes.
Recently, I was fortunate enough to be invited to an advanced workout even though I wasn't able to physically participate in the techniques. I was allowed to watch. This in itself is a great honor and a great learning opportunity.
I've had my fair share of injuries which have allowed me to figure out how to do techniques with more precision and finesse and less strength. But not being able to do anything all -- except sit and watch, is a new experience for me - albeit a difficult one.
When you're physically active, it's difficult to not physically be in a position to perform techniques. However, being allowed to watch instead of participate affords you an opportunity to listen to the instruction and then visually match the instruction with the techniques being performed in front of you. It also allows you to visualize how you, yourself would perform the technique(s).
Visualization as a lesson in the dojo, is one that my instructor only gave once, maybe twice during the time I've been a student of his. The few times that he did talk about it -- it made a profound impact on me. He asked us to close our eyes and visualize a technique in our minds and how we would like to perform it. We had to visualize it several times. Then he had us open our eyes, and allowed one opportunity to perform the technique. It was shocking to see how much my technique improved by this seemingly simple mental exercise.
Although it worked like magic, I must admit, that I didn't practice the technique regularly, opting instead to focus on physical repetition -- until now -- when performing the physical techniques is less of an option for me.
It made me realize that lessons you learn find you when you need them the most. Keeping an open mind and constantly learning allows you to manage any challenge with grace.
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Training While Pregnant
Well, it's been a few months since I posted an update, but it's been with good reason. In February my husband and I found out we were pregnant and it's been a roller coaster ever since.
Have I still be training -- yes, but the training changes month-to-month. How has my training changed? I still train at the dojo 2-3 times a week, but the training looks a little bit different these days.
-- As soon as I found out I was pregnant -- I discontinued doing rolls and falls in Jujitsu. My role in Jujitsu became less working out and more assisting in instruction. Which is fine. I've learned so much just by teaching over these last few months
-- I still participate in the karate class working out -- unless there is a chance for contact -- i.e. sparring. I try and do as much as I can without raising my heart rate above 170, decreasing oxygen in take and becoming dehydrated -- all huge no no's while pregnant.
-- during our special Friday sessions -- I've taken to working on arts/techniques that tend to be more focus driven. Karate Kata and Iai.
Why am I still in class when so many other women take a break as soon as they find out they are pregnant? For me martial arts is part of my life, just as the pregnancy and the new baby to be will be. I don't see them as mutually exclusive -- but as things that can coexist with a little adaptation. I believe it's healthy to keep moving while you're pregnant -- it's not a disease after all. And I believe that women have been having babies for thousands of years, and I doubt most of them just sat on their rear ends when they found out they were pregnant.
Will I slow down training as I move further along in the pregnancy? Of course. I will probably cut down on the time training as I move into the later parts of pregnancy. But I rather look forward to working on balance when I have a belly 5 times it's normal size. It sounds like a great challenge after all!
Does it make it uncomfortable for the other students? I think yes, for some -- who don't like the idea of working with me in case they hurt me. That's to be expected. But at the same time -- it requires an extra level of focus and attention from them to make sure that they are doing things properly -- maybe not something they're used to.
Was all of this discussed with my Sensei when I first found out I was pregnant? Of course. It was he who also encouraged me to remain in the class and modify what I am able and not able to do. Do the other students know what to do with me? Some yes, some no -- but it's fun watching.
Have I still be training -- yes, but the training changes month-to-month. How has my training changed? I still train at the dojo 2-3 times a week, but the training looks a little bit different these days.
-- As soon as I found out I was pregnant -- I discontinued doing rolls and falls in Jujitsu. My role in Jujitsu became less working out and more assisting in instruction. Which is fine. I've learned so much just by teaching over these last few months
-- I still participate in the karate class working out -- unless there is a chance for contact -- i.e. sparring. I try and do as much as I can without raising my heart rate above 170, decreasing oxygen in take and becoming dehydrated -- all huge no no's while pregnant.
-- during our special Friday sessions -- I've taken to working on arts/techniques that tend to be more focus driven. Karate Kata and Iai.
Why am I still in class when so many other women take a break as soon as they find out they are pregnant? For me martial arts is part of my life, just as the pregnancy and the new baby to be will be. I don't see them as mutually exclusive -- but as things that can coexist with a little adaptation. I believe it's healthy to keep moving while you're pregnant -- it's not a disease after all. And I believe that women have been having babies for thousands of years, and I doubt most of them just sat on their rear ends when they found out they were pregnant.
Will I slow down training as I move further along in the pregnancy? Of course. I will probably cut down on the time training as I move into the later parts of pregnancy. But I rather look forward to working on balance when I have a belly 5 times it's normal size. It sounds like a great challenge after all!
Does it make it uncomfortable for the other students? I think yes, for some -- who don't like the idea of working with me in case they hurt me. That's to be expected. But at the same time -- it requires an extra level of focus and attention from them to make sure that they are doing things properly -- maybe not something they're used to.
Was all of this discussed with my Sensei when I first found out I was pregnant? Of course. It was he who also encouraged me to remain in the class and modify what I am able and not able to do. Do the other students know what to do with me? Some yes, some no -- but it's fun watching.
Friday, February 11, 2011
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
How long did it take you to get your black belt?
It never fails...at the beginning of each month when the new students start and I corral them into a group to give them an intro to the school and explain to them what they can expect and will be experiencing -- I always finish with, "any questions?" .... and I always get "how long did it take you to get that black belt?"
In a similar post on this site, I talked about a conversation with a Buddhist monk who had a great response to this question. I'm still working on my response. Why? First, I don't want to offend the new student asking. As a new student -- it's their time to ask as many questions as they can, even if they're silly ones. Second, I don't want to scare them off and say it can take 10 years -- because, well, let's face it, anything over a couple of years in their yet untrained minds -- is way too long to consider sticking with anything. And thirdly, I'm not really interested in discussing a very personal journey with someone who is still a stranger.
Lately -- to answer their questions, I've been using the vague answer, shift the topic method. I'll smile and then I tell them it took me years (how many is not their business just yet). Then I'll point out one of the senior black belts and tell them that's he's been studying since 1963 and it took him over 20 years to get his. I'll mention that of course he took a break during that time period - and then I'll point out a few of our brown belt students that just returned to our class after 20 years -- who are now in the their late 30s/early 40s and who had taken class when they were initially in high school.
I guess this is my attempt of explaining to them in a nice way that "how long" doesn't really matter and is relative anyway. Plus, those types of stories are much more interesting than how many years it took me to earn my black belt. I think the new students agree.
I'd like to think that they ask me that question because I'm friendly with them and they feel comfortable to do so, and isn't because the shine hasn't quite worn off my belt yet. The next question out of their mouth is then "well, how long does it take to get that yellow belt?" (our school's next rank after white). I just smile and say, about 6 months, but it depends on the person.
In a similar post on this site, I talked about a conversation with a Buddhist monk who had a great response to this question. I'm still working on my response. Why? First, I don't want to offend the new student asking. As a new student -- it's their time to ask as many questions as they can, even if they're silly ones. Second, I don't want to scare them off and say it can take 10 years -- because, well, let's face it, anything over a couple of years in their yet untrained minds -- is way too long to consider sticking with anything. And thirdly, I'm not really interested in discussing a very personal journey with someone who is still a stranger.
Lately -- to answer their questions, I've been using the vague answer, shift the topic method. I'll smile and then I tell them it took me years (how many is not their business just yet). Then I'll point out one of the senior black belts and tell them that's he's been studying since 1963 and it took him over 20 years to get his. I'll mention that of course he took a break during that time period - and then I'll point out a few of our brown belt students that just returned to our class after 20 years -- who are now in the their late 30s/early 40s and who had taken class when they were initially in high school.
I guess this is my attempt of explaining to them in a nice way that "how long" doesn't really matter and is relative anyway. Plus, those types of stories are much more interesting than how many years it took me to earn my black belt. I think the new students agree.
I'd like to think that they ask me that question because I'm friendly with them and they feel comfortable to do so, and isn't because the shine hasn't quite worn off my belt yet. The next question out of their mouth is then "well, how long does it take to get that yellow belt?" (our school's next rank after white). I just smile and say, about 6 months, but it depends on the person.
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Loyalties
I was asked once many years ago where, as a student, my loyalties lay. Were they with the highest ranks of the school or were they with my instructor (the head of the school). I was part of a group of students that had attended a special class that day, and one by one, down the line each one of us was asked this same question. It should be noted that the person asking the question was one of the highest ranking students in the school.
One by one I heard my contemporaries say that their loyalties lay with the highest ranks of the school, of course. When my turn came, I gave the opposite answer, that my loyalties lay with my instructor.
I gave that answer not because I do not trust or value my fellow dojo mates. I gave that answer because for me, if I gauge my actions based on what I believe my Sensei would want and deem correct -- then what to do and the path to take -- is much more simple and clear.
Does my Sensei trust his highest ranks? Yes, so therefore I trust them. Does my Sensei want me to support the concept of a unified dojo? Yes, therefore I support it. For me, having my loyalties lay with my Sensei gives me a framework for how to understand and react to things that go on around the dojo. In this way I hope to be a worthwhile student.
One by one I heard my contemporaries say that their loyalties lay with the highest ranks of the school, of course. When my turn came, I gave the opposite answer, that my loyalties lay with my instructor.
I gave that answer not because I do not trust or value my fellow dojo mates. I gave that answer because for me, if I gauge my actions based on what I believe my Sensei would want and deem correct -- then what to do and the path to take -- is much more simple and clear.
Does my Sensei trust his highest ranks? Yes, so therefore I trust them. Does my Sensei want me to support the concept of a unified dojo? Yes, therefore I support it. For me, having my loyalties lay with my Sensei gives me a framework for how to understand and react to things that go on around the dojo. In this way I hope to be a worthwhile student.
Monday, July 19, 2010
Invisibility Training
There's always a challenge striking a balance between responsibility and fun when it comes to dojo life. Especially when your school plays host to several high ranking guests.
The presence of high ranking guests means that as a dojo you need to tend to your guests to ensure they enjoy themselves. This shows respect towards your guests and helps demonstrate how effective and thorough your Sensei has trained you. Lack of attention to your guests, in the correct way ... makes your Sensei look bad. When done correctly -- it builds respect for your Sensei and for your school.
When I speak of tending to guests -- I don't mean in an overbearing, obvious manner. In fact, you should be invisible. Like a ghost.
If a water bottle goes empty while sitting in front of a guest, as soon as the guest turns their head, the empty bottle gets replaced with a cold, filled bottle. When the guest turns back, they should not have perceived your presence -- and should be pleasantly surprised that a cold full bottle has replaced their empty one. Tending to guests requires, close, constant attention with a sensitivity to protocol. Not an easy task.
Tending to higher ranks is usually reserved for higher ranking students in the dojo. In some schools, no one beneath a Nidan is allowed to even poor beverages for high ranking instructors. Being invisible requires paying attention to small intricacies of timing and protocol so that the head instructor is able to play host to special invited guests. Invisible, complete catering to guests allows them to relax. Once guests relax, teaching begins and stories flow.
Invisibly tending to high ranks and special guests involves a myriad of things -- from making sure there are no distractions, to ensuring that any surrounding sounds are not competing with normal conversation levels, to ensuring that what ever the guest requires or wants is at their finger tips before they even think to ask for it. This level of sensitivity is not just for the guest's enjoyment. It is part of the training. To learn how to be highly attuned and read others in the correct way -- helps develop acute sensitivity and discipline in the martial arts.
A problem occurs when lower ranks that should be watching and paying attention to how these acute, invisible activities are performed -- aren't paying attention. Many make the mistake of not watching closely enough. When things run smoothly, sometimes others don't realize it's a training situation. Then no transmission occurs.
However, in these situations the lower ranking students also have responsibilities:
1. Watch and learn how the higher ranking students tend to guests
2. Allow the higher ranking students to perform their duties of acute tending. In order to do that, lower ranks should take care of other, more obvious tasks so that the higher ranking students can focus their attention on serving higher ranks. In a party situation, lower ranks can do this by clearing plates, changing out trash bags, keeping noise levels down changing out and refilling food as necessary, etc. Lower ranks should not wait to be told these things -- because that would require the higher ranking students to break their attention on the higher ranking guests in order to provide direction. Thus begins invisibility training.
The presence of high ranking guests -- changes everything. It's tough in a party situation. Lower ranking, and sometimes higher ranking students of the school see a party and forget that it's not really a party. Not for them anyway. The presence of guests from outside the dojo turns any event into a presentation of the school and needs to be managed accordingly.
The presence of high ranking guests means that as a dojo you need to tend to your guests to ensure they enjoy themselves. This shows respect towards your guests and helps demonstrate how effective and thorough your Sensei has trained you. Lack of attention to your guests, in the correct way ... makes your Sensei look bad. When done correctly -- it builds respect for your Sensei and for your school.
When I speak of tending to guests -- I don't mean in an overbearing, obvious manner. In fact, you should be invisible. Like a ghost.
If a water bottle goes empty while sitting in front of a guest, as soon as the guest turns their head, the empty bottle gets replaced with a cold, filled bottle. When the guest turns back, they should not have perceived your presence -- and should be pleasantly surprised that a cold full bottle has replaced their empty one. Tending to guests requires, close, constant attention with a sensitivity to protocol. Not an easy task.
Tending to higher ranks is usually reserved for higher ranking students in the dojo. In some schools, no one beneath a Nidan is allowed to even poor beverages for high ranking instructors. Being invisible requires paying attention to small intricacies of timing and protocol so that the head instructor is able to play host to special invited guests. Invisible, complete catering to guests allows them to relax. Once guests relax, teaching begins and stories flow.
Invisibly tending to high ranks and special guests involves a myriad of things -- from making sure there are no distractions, to ensuring that any surrounding sounds are not competing with normal conversation levels, to ensuring that what ever the guest requires or wants is at their finger tips before they even think to ask for it. This level of sensitivity is not just for the guest's enjoyment. It is part of the training. To learn how to be highly attuned and read others in the correct way -- helps develop acute sensitivity and discipline in the martial arts.
A problem occurs when lower ranks that should be watching and paying attention to how these acute, invisible activities are performed -- aren't paying attention. Many make the mistake of not watching closely enough. When things run smoothly, sometimes others don't realize it's a training situation. Then no transmission occurs.
However, in these situations the lower ranking students also have responsibilities:
1. Watch and learn how the higher ranking students tend to guests
2. Allow the higher ranking students to perform their duties of acute tending. In order to do that, lower ranks should take care of other, more obvious tasks so that the higher ranking students can focus their attention on serving higher ranks. In a party situation, lower ranks can do this by clearing plates, changing out trash bags, keeping noise levels down changing out and refilling food as necessary, etc. Lower ranks should not wait to be told these things -- because that would require the higher ranking students to break their attention on the higher ranking guests in order to provide direction. Thus begins invisibility training.
The presence of high ranking guests -- changes everything. It's tough in a party situation. Lower ranking, and sometimes higher ranking students of the school see a party and forget that it's not really a party. Not for them anyway. The presence of guests from outside the dojo turns any event into a presentation of the school and needs to be managed accordingly.
Friday, June 25, 2010
Pick and Choose
Recently, I had a student come to me and ask if it was appropriate to ask the head instructor if they could choose a different workout partner in class. This particular student was promoted at the same time and to the same rank as one of our more lethargic students and so they tend to be paired up together for most classes.
Although we'll most likely try to rotate different partners through for this student -- my answer to her was "no." No, you don't get to choose your workout partner ... just as you don't get to choose your attacker (as my Sensei always likes to say).
If you've been in the martial arts long enough -- you will have worked out with some people that aren't always the best fit -- for what ever reason. When you work out with a partner -- it's exactly that -- a partnership forms. Sometimes it's not perfect, but in those cases it's even more important to come to an understanding.
In my training -- I remember a few partners very clearly --
1. One was huge, lethargic and a solid 275. My job was to throw him. Myself, at 140lbs, and studying for only about a year -- this was a daunting task. I had trouble moving him, let alone throwing him. At first I thought it was because of the weight difference. We would take turns back and forth throwing eachother (or attempting to) -- me going over, and him simply walking around me. After awhile I got really frustrated and so I started to pay more attention. I noticed that when I grabbed onto him, I could feel that he would sink his weight into the mat, just to make it a little more "challenging" for me. I decided next time it was his turn to throw me, I would do the same. When we switched and he grabbed on and attempted to throw me, instead of going over as I had been doing ... all of a sudden he couldn't move me. He stopped and shook his head in confusion, then attempted to throw again. Again, I didn't budge. I think he got the point, because next time we switched and it was my turn to throw him -- all of sudden he became light as a feather and went over. We had come to an unspoken understanding.
2. One hated me. It's a different kind of feeling to stand in front of someone who oozes hatred for you out of every pore and have to form a partnership. This person would avoid working out with me -- by obviously walking to the extreme other side of the room when ever they were near me. Outside of the class, this person would be friendly with everyone else but me. I hated this feeling and constantly evaluated everything that I could be doing that may be creating this feeling of animosity towards me. When our Sensei forced her to workout with me, there was always a bit of disdain. She would never look at me when we worked out together. Even so, I was her assigned partner for one of her rank tests and we made it work. In a partnership that is not of your choosing -- you make it work no matter what, even when the person across from you hates you.
This person is no longer at the dojo, but I never quite understood why she had such a problem with me. In the end I chalked it up to our personalities being like oil and water -- we just never meshed.
3. One used to over power me. When first starting Karate I used to be really afraid of Kumite (sparring). Every time I would spar with a particular individual -- they would over power me with techniques -- I felt like a pebble on the beach that was constantly pounded by a never ending wave of attacks. It happened to be that this person was also bigger than me and used this to their advantage, but not in a mean way. I would go home in the evening and think about how to counter their attacks. After many years, one night in class, I tried changing the dynamic. The person came at me again with a barrage of attacks, the tsunami was coming. At that moment I sank into a deep shiko dachi -- and to my surprise, my attacker (at 225lbs) who was used to over powering me from above -- bounced off of me. There hasn't been a barrage since. I thank that particular partner every day for teaching me how to ground myself.
In Class
It is the case in class that you will be paired up with different kinds of partners. All will push you to excel -- either because their attitude elevates your own, or your attitude will help elevate theirs. Either way a partner with a good or bad attitude -- will teach you something about yourself and will push you to be your best.
Although we'll most likely try to rotate different partners through for this student -- my answer to her was "no." No, you don't get to choose your workout partner ... just as you don't get to choose your attacker (as my Sensei always likes to say).
If you've been in the martial arts long enough -- you will have worked out with some people that aren't always the best fit -- for what ever reason. When you work out with a partner -- it's exactly that -- a partnership forms. Sometimes it's not perfect, but in those cases it's even more important to come to an understanding.
In my training -- I remember a few partners very clearly --
1. One was huge, lethargic and a solid 275. My job was to throw him. Myself, at 140lbs, and studying for only about a year -- this was a daunting task. I had trouble moving him, let alone throwing him. At first I thought it was because of the weight difference. We would take turns back and forth throwing eachother (or attempting to) -- me going over, and him simply walking around me. After awhile I got really frustrated and so I started to pay more attention. I noticed that when I grabbed onto him, I could feel that he would sink his weight into the mat, just to make it a little more "challenging" for me. I decided next time it was his turn to throw me, I would do the same. When we switched and he grabbed on and attempted to throw me, instead of going over as I had been doing ... all of a sudden he couldn't move me. He stopped and shook his head in confusion, then attempted to throw again. Again, I didn't budge. I think he got the point, because next time we switched and it was my turn to throw him -- all of sudden he became light as a feather and went over. We had come to an unspoken understanding.
2. One hated me. It's a different kind of feeling to stand in front of someone who oozes hatred for you out of every pore and have to form a partnership. This person would avoid working out with me -- by obviously walking to the extreme other side of the room when ever they were near me. Outside of the class, this person would be friendly with everyone else but me. I hated this feeling and constantly evaluated everything that I could be doing that may be creating this feeling of animosity towards me. When our Sensei forced her to workout with me, there was always a bit of disdain. She would never look at me when we worked out together. Even so, I was her assigned partner for one of her rank tests and we made it work. In a partnership that is not of your choosing -- you make it work no matter what, even when the person across from you hates you.
This person is no longer at the dojo, but I never quite understood why she had such a problem with me. In the end I chalked it up to our personalities being like oil and water -- we just never meshed.
3. One used to over power me. When first starting Karate I used to be really afraid of Kumite (sparring). Every time I would spar with a particular individual -- they would over power me with techniques -- I felt like a pebble on the beach that was constantly pounded by a never ending wave of attacks. It happened to be that this person was also bigger than me and used this to their advantage, but not in a mean way. I would go home in the evening and think about how to counter their attacks. After many years, one night in class, I tried changing the dynamic. The person came at me again with a barrage of attacks, the tsunami was coming. At that moment I sank into a deep shiko dachi -- and to my surprise, my attacker (at 225lbs) who was used to over powering me from above -- bounced off of me. There hasn't been a barrage since. I thank that particular partner every day for teaching me how to ground myself.
In Class
It is the case in class that you will be paired up with different kinds of partners. All will push you to excel -- either because their attitude elevates your own, or your attitude will help elevate theirs. Either way a partner with a good or bad attitude -- will teach you something about yourself and will push you to be your best.
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
What Rank are You?
I get this question a lot, along with "how long have you been studying?" I always answer. "i'm a very very low rank." and "i haven't been studying nearly long enough." The questions usually stop after that.
I'm always surprised when I hear students or instructors announce their rank or when they will be tested/promoted.
It's that darn vertical space again.
A dear friend a long long time ago, made the following comment about that...
"There are those people that will ensure everyone knows what rank they are. Those that shout their rank from the roof tops, are not true martial artists. They are just playing at martial arts. It's more important for them, and their egos, for other people to know that they study martial arts."
"The people that really know martial arts, accept their rank, and promptly hide it away. The higher the rank, the more they will hide it away -- finding a way to be less obvious, more hidden -- not drawing attention to themselves in anyway. They will hide their faces and be as inconspicuous as possible. Those are the true masters."
I'm always surprised when I hear students or instructors announce their rank or when they will be tested/promoted.
It's that darn vertical space again.
A dear friend a long long time ago, made the following comment about that...
"There are those people that will ensure everyone knows what rank they are. Those that shout their rank from the roof tops, are not true martial artists. They are just playing at martial arts. It's more important for them, and their egos, for other people to know that they study martial arts."
"The people that really know martial arts, accept their rank, and promptly hide it away. The higher the rank, the more they will hide it away -- finding a way to be less obvious, more hidden -- not drawing attention to themselves in anyway. They will hide their faces and be as inconspicuous as possible. Those are the true masters."
How Long Have you Been Studying Martial Arts? ... Conversations with a Buddhist Monk
Apart from being descended from a long line of master calligraphers, the Buddhist Monk was also descended from long lineage of Kyudo Masters. He said that sometimes people ask how long he’s been studying (Kyudo).
He said: "This is a silly question."
As he continued to explain -- he comes from a family that is 800 years old. Every time he picks up the bow, he has generations that have gone before him. His father told him that maybe in 10 generations from now, one of them may be finally able to hold the bow correctly.
He said: "This is a silly question."
As he continued to explain -- he comes from a family that is 800 years old. Every time he picks up the bow, he has generations that have gone before him. His father told him that maybe in 10 generations from now, one of them may be finally able to hold the bow correctly.
The Trouble with Questions ... Conversations with a Buddhist Monk
The Buddhist Monk that I met with came from a long lineage of master calligraphers. When he was a small boy in the monestary, his father showed him a brush that had been passed down through his family, made by his great grandfather.
He asked his father what kind of hair the brush was made of. His father hit him hard on the head.
His father hit him hard -- because in the monestary you don’t ask questions. Because when you ask questions, it’s ego. The more you ask, the more you want to know and you start building in the vertical space – rather than finding the answer and the truth on your own.
He asked his father what kind of hair the brush was made of. His father hit him hard on the head.
His father hit him hard -- because in the monestary you don’t ask questions. Because when you ask questions, it’s ego. The more you ask, the more you want to know and you start building in the vertical space – rather than finding the answer and the truth on your own.
Vertical Space ... Conversations with a Buddhist Monk
Originally I had been put in contact with the Buddhist Monk because he was a master calligrapher -- and I was looking for someone to create a piece of calligraphy for a gift.
Our first initial contact was over the phone. After a few minutes of discussion, he invited me to his office to discuss the matter further. When I arrived. I sat down and was served tea.
He looked at me quietly, took a breath and then preceded to tell me that many many people come to him and ask him to create gifts for people, but that they don't understand. He paused. Fiddled with a few things in office, then continued...
"I try and explain to them. To give a gift is ego. Ego of building yourself up and drawing attention to yourself. It has to do with vertical space. In Japanese, the vertical space is stacking one thing on top of another. Eventually it will topple. That’s why in Japanese gardens you never see vertical fountains going up and down. It's not natural. It upsets the rhythm. That's why Japanese gardens focus on horizontal space, where everything is in a line. The water is more of a stream a trickle."
In an earlier post, I mentioned challenges with Ego. From my conversation with him, I understood ego to mean building yourself up, making yourself seem higher, drawing attention to yourself -- vertical space. But vertical space upsets the rhythm. It's not natural ... and it will eventually topple.
We all struggle with ego at one time or another, expecially in the martial arts -- either our own ego or someone else's. The challenge is to not create vertical space. Horizontal space creates harmony.
Our first initial contact was over the phone. After a few minutes of discussion, he invited me to his office to discuss the matter further. When I arrived. I sat down and was served tea.
He looked at me quietly, took a breath and then preceded to tell me that many many people come to him and ask him to create gifts for people, but that they don't understand. He paused. Fiddled with a few things in office, then continued...
"I try and explain to them. To give a gift is ego. Ego of building yourself up and drawing attention to yourself. It has to do with vertical space. In Japanese, the vertical space is stacking one thing on top of another. Eventually it will topple. That’s why in Japanese gardens you never see vertical fountains going up and down. It's not natural. It upsets the rhythm. That's why Japanese gardens focus on horizontal space, where everything is in a line. The water is more of a stream a trickle."
In an earlier post, I mentioned challenges with Ego. From my conversation with him, I understood ego to mean building yourself up, making yourself seem higher, drawing attention to yourself -- vertical space. But vertical space upsets the rhythm. It's not natural ... and it will eventually topple.
We all struggle with ego at one time or another, expecially in the martial arts -- either our own ego or someone else's. The challenge is to not create vertical space. Horizontal space creates harmony.
One brush, one school ... Conversations with a Buddhist Monk
I'm including excerpts from a conversation that I had with a Buddhist monk, into my blog. Not because I'm Buddhist, I'm not. But because his stories had a lot of relevance to things that happen within the dojo.
One of the first stories he told me, was a story from when he was a child. When he was a child in Japan, he was messing around and playing with some paint brushes, as children are apt to do. His grandfather saw him and told him to stop. As part of his punishment, his grandfather told him to count how many hairs were in the brush. He spent 3 hours counting the hairs in the brush. He counted the hairs in groups of ten and would wrap each group in a small piece of paper as not to lose his count. His grandfather came back some time later and asked him how many hairs he had counted -- he said 4,300 hairs.
His grandfather then told him to put the brush into the paint. He did. The grandfather then asked, how many hairs there were now. He said he couldn't count them now because they were all stuck together. That lesson stuck with him the longest.
As we continued talking it became apparent that he was talking about how we are all one. One, made up of many. The students in a dojo are many, but when we all work together, there are no more differences, there are no more individuals. The hairs in the brush become one in order to create a brush stroke. We are one school, one class, one lineage, one history, one student made up of many.
I took notes on our conversation later. I re-read this story every time I separate myself from the group of students that I study with. There is no separation. We are one in the same.
One of the first stories he told me, was a story from when he was a child. When he was a child in Japan, he was messing around and playing with some paint brushes, as children are apt to do. His grandfather saw him and told him to stop. As part of his punishment, his grandfather told him to count how many hairs were in the brush. He spent 3 hours counting the hairs in the brush. He counted the hairs in groups of ten and would wrap each group in a small piece of paper as not to lose his count. His grandfather came back some time later and asked him how many hairs he had counted -- he said 4,300 hairs.
His grandfather then told him to put the brush into the paint. He did. The grandfather then asked, how many hairs there were now. He said he couldn't count them now because they were all stuck together. That lesson stuck with him the longest.
As we continued talking it became apparent that he was talking about how we are all one. One, made up of many. The students in a dojo are many, but when we all work together, there are no more differences, there are no more individuals. The hairs in the brush become one in order to create a brush stroke. We are one school, one class, one lineage, one history, one student made up of many.
I took notes on our conversation later. I re-read this story every time I separate myself from the group of students that I study with. There is no separation. We are one in the same.
Monday, May 24, 2010
Challenges with Ego
I'd like to think that I'm good with students. The teaching style that I'm comfortable with -- I learned a long time ago. I tend to subscribe to the tough love model. Where I really expect a lot from students, but never more than they're truly capable of. I'm hard on them, but always with a smile. I help them push themselves past their comfort zones so they can feel proud of what they've accomplished. But these statements in themselves -- are pretty egotistical.
Most of the time, the tough love style works, depending on the student's personality. But I'm finding that this teaching style is still fairly naive.
I've never been the kind of student that struggles with presence or commanding a room. I've always thought this was a strength, but I recently realized it's a very severe weakness. Most recently I was asked by my instructor to lead a class in warm up exercises. My Sensei had been gone for awhile and it had been months since I was given the opportunity to lead a group of students. On his night back, and one of the largest attended classes we've had in a long time -- I wanted to make sure I did a good job.
Being in the front of the room -- I started the group in warm up exercises. Immediately I saw that the group was sluggish, everyone was on a different count (not keeping up with my count), and generally not very focused. This is a view I normally don't have when doing the warm up exercises with the group -- but standing in front and leading them -- these issues stood out like a sore thumb.
They made me mad and annoyed.
I didn't stop to consider that the majority of the class was made up of white belts.
Instead -- I started barking out orders, and basically yelling at the group... "stay with my count" , "get into your stances faster", "everyone must do every count, if we don't -- the whole group will need to do it again" etc. It was bad. At the time -- in that space -- my motivation was to elevate the group and get them more focused because our instructor was back -- my stupid ego told me that it was my job and I'd be able to. As soon as the words left my mouth -- I knew they were wrong. I knew it was bad. I knew that instead of elevating the group -- I just yelled at them. They did better -- but it was out of fear -- I wasn't able to truly lead them.
My instructor came up to me later with a few comments of what not to do again. He was surprisingly kind.
I've not been asked to lead class since then. When I am given the opportunity again, you can bet money I'll do it differently.
I'm pretty coordinated, so physical techniques come easily. That is where my focus has been up until now. I finally realized that my struggle, my journey, what I'm supposed to be learning is -- finesse .... among people.
I think about ego a lot -- about how it keeps me from learning what I should be learning. But each mistake is a learning opportunity and a chance to better myself. Times like this always make me think back to a conversation that I had with a buddhist monk. I'm not religious -- but the few things he told me rang clear and I re-read them every time I need to remind myself of the problems with ego. Installments of the conversations will happen in subsequent posts.
Most of the time, the tough love style works, depending on the student's personality. But I'm finding that this teaching style is still fairly naive.
I've never been the kind of student that struggles with presence or commanding a room. I've always thought this was a strength, but I recently realized it's a very severe weakness. Most recently I was asked by my instructor to lead a class in warm up exercises. My Sensei had been gone for awhile and it had been months since I was given the opportunity to lead a group of students. On his night back, and one of the largest attended classes we've had in a long time -- I wanted to make sure I did a good job.
Being in the front of the room -- I started the group in warm up exercises. Immediately I saw that the group was sluggish, everyone was on a different count (not keeping up with my count), and generally not very focused. This is a view I normally don't have when doing the warm up exercises with the group -- but standing in front and leading them -- these issues stood out like a sore thumb.
They made me mad and annoyed.
I didn't stop to consider that the majority of the class was made up of white belts.
Instead -- I started barking out orders, and basically yelling at the group... "stay with my count" , "get into your stances faster", "everyone must do every count, if we don't -- the whole group will need to do it again" etc. It was bad. At the time -- in that space -- my motivation was to elevate the group and get them more focused because our instructor was back -- my stupid ego told me that it was my job and I'd be able to. As soon as the words left my mouth -- I knew they were wrong. I knew it was bad. I knew that instead of elevating the group -- I just yelled at them. They did better -- but it was out of fear -- I wasn't able to truly lead them.
My instructor came up to me later with a few comments of what not to do again. He was surprisingly kind.
I've not been asked to lead class since then. When I am given the opportunity again, you can bet money I'll do it differently.
I'm pretty coordinated, so physical techniques come easily. That is where my focus has been up until now. I finally realized that my struggle, my journey, what I'm supposed to be learning is -- finesse .... among people.
I think about ego a lot -- about how it keeps me from learning what I should be learning. But each mistake is a learning opportunity and a chance to better myself. Times like this always make me think back to a conversation that I had with a buddhist monk. I'm not religious -- but the few things he told me rang clear and I re-read them every time I need to remind myself of the problems with ego. Installments of the conversations will happen in subsequent posts.
Thursday, May 6, 2010
Form, Storm, Norm
So I went to business school. One of the first things they do in business school is put you into a group of people that will form your primary group for completing and turning in group assignments. No, you don't get to pick your group. Yes, most assignments are group assignments, not individual. Yes, you must depend on this group of complete strangers for your success and grade. No, you will not like all of them.
Anyway, after they stick you in a group of strangers, they inform you that a few things naturally happen before the group is really able to function normally -- these things are:
1. Form
2. Storm
3. Norm
Any new group, or any change in a group structure goes through these steps/phases.
Why do I bring this up? Well, it's because I see this same process happen in the dojo. It's not fun, and often it's sad -- but it is normal and it does have to happen in order for the new group to be able to function. Sometimes you lose people in the process. Sometimes you gain extraordinary individuals that were once hidden.
1. Forming -- the new group is formed with new members. Even if there is an existing group, the addition of any new member, means there is a new group. This can be in the dojo in general, or per rank as people move up and join others at the same rank. This step is fairly quick.
2. Storming -- there is infighting, posturing for positions/roles/attention, politics, fighting for power, conflict, etc. This step can be fast or long, depending on the personalities in the group. This is where heirarchy and personal functions/roles/power within the group are establised. Most often than not -- it is long. it is painful. it is necessary. during this step people will either leave or find a place/role within the new group.
3. Norming. After the storming phase, however long it takes, the group will settle in and calm down being able to function as a unit.
You may not have experienced this yet. But you will some day. When you are in the throws of the storming phases -- just remember that it's a normal part of working out what needs to get worked out.
Anyway, after they stick you in a group of strangers, they inform you that a few things naturally happen before the group is really able to function normally -- these things are:
1. Form
2. Storm
3. Norm
Any new group, or any change in a group structure goes through these steps/phases.
Why do I bring this up? Well, it's because I see this same process happen in the dojo. It's not fun, and often it's sad -- but it is normal and it does have to happen in order for the new group to be able to function. Sometimes you lose people in the process. Sometimes you gain extraordinary individuals that were once hidden.
1. Forming -- the new group is formed with new members. Even if there is an existing group, the addition of any new member, means there is a new group. This can be in the dojo in general, or per rank as people move up and join others at the same rank. This step is fairly quick.
2. Storming -- there is infighting, posturing for positions/roles/attention, politics, fighting for power, conflict, etc. This step can be fast or long, depending on the personalities in the group. This is where heirarchy and personal functions/roles/power within the group are establised. Most often than not -- it is long. it is painful. it is necessary. during this step people will either leave or find a place/role within the new group.
3. Norming. After the storming phase, however long it takes, the group will settle in and calm down being able to function as a unit.
You may not have experienced this yet. But you will some day. When you are in the throws of the storming phases -- just remember that it's a normal part of working out what needs to get worked out.
I Can Tell Where You Come From by the Way That You Move
The more and more I watch other martial arts practitioners -- the more I realize that one can tell where someone comes from by the way that they move. When you're a dedicated student to one Sensei -- you tend to move like them. All the students under that instructor will tend to have the same approach to movement -- the students will look like they were cut from the same cloth. I don't mean an exact replica -- but there will be an underlying "sameness" a feeling, an approach in everything they do. Even those students that return after decades -- will have the same movement. Their bodies remember being cut from the same cloth.
I don't believe that the students realize it most of the time, but it's apparent to an outside observer.
If you ever go to seminars/clinics with other schools, often times other instructors will be able to tell which instructor you are a student of -- which lineage you belong to. If your instructor is well respected, you will be treated differently.
So what happens when you begin studying under multiple instructors? I don't mean taking clinics here or there. I mean active study under more than one teacher. Well, it affects the way you move. It kind of muddies everything together. Ever heard of the phrase "jack of all trades -- master of none"? You may end up learning more and knowing more techniques, but they won't be attached to anyone or anything -- there won't be a clean, clear, observable trace back to your Sensei. People won't be able to tell where you come from.
Is this bad? That's not for me to judge. Everyone is on their own path and makes their own choices. For me, I don't like it. For me it's a question of breadth versus depth. If you follow my posts at all, you should already know that I think the same fundamental principles are taught in all well rounded martial arts. So I don't think you need to go elsewhere to learn them -- it's just a matter of how much emphasis and time is placed on each in your own particular style. Nothing is new.
Back to my point -- when you are part of a dojo and then study outside of the dojo under multiple teachers -- others can tell. We can tell. When you come work out -- you move differently than the others. You stand out. You look like you haven't found a Sensei to respect enough to follow, that you're forging your own path. That speaks volumes.
You probably don't mean to do it. You probably don't even realize that you are moving differently. For you -- you are excited about learning as much as you can from as many people as you can -- following the path your teacher laid out -- well just isn't that important.
Exposing students to other things is not bad -- at the right time, when they're able to tell the difference. If you're a higher rank, the lower ranks will copy you -- not knowing that you're creating a separate cloth than the one of your Sensei.
I don't believe that the students realize it most of the time, but it's apparent to an outside observer.
If you ever go to seminars/clinics with other schools, often times other instructors will be able to tell which instructor you are a student of -- which lineage you belong to. If your instructor is well respected, you will be treated differently.
So what happens when you begin studying under multiple instructors? I don't mean taking clinics here or there. I mean active study under more than one teacher. Well, it affects the way you move. It kind of muddies everything together. Ever heard of the phrase "jack of all trades -- master of none"? You may end up learning more and knowing more techniques, but they won't be attached to anyone or anything -- there won't be a clean, clear, observable trace back to your Sensei. People won't be able to tell where you come from.
Is this bad? That's not for me to judge. Everyone is on their own path and makes their own choices. For me, I don't like it. For me it's a question of breadth versus depth. If you follow my posts at all, you should already know that I think the same fundamental principles are taught in all well rounded martial arts. So I don't think you need to go elsewhere to learn them -- it's just a matter of how much emphasis and time is placed on each in your own particular style. Nothing is new.
Back to my point -- when you are part of a dojo and then study outside of the dojo under multiple teachers -- others can tell. We can tell. When you come work out -- you move differently than the others. You stand out. You look like you haven't found a Sensei to respect enough to follow, that you're forging your own path. That speaks volumes.
You probably don't mean to do it. You probably don't even realize that you are moving differently. For you -- you are excited about learning as much as you can from as many people as you can -- following the path your teacher laid out -- well just isn't that important.
Exposing students to other things is not bad -- at the right time, when they're able to tell the difference. If you're a higher rank, the lower ranks will copy you -- not knowing that you're creating a separate cloth than the one of your Sensei.
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
Mouth Like a Truck Driver
No offense to truck drivers, but I used to have a mouth like one. Before I started martial arts my vernacular and vocabulary were heavily inundated with off-colored phrases and curses. I think I kinda thought it was cute to wear a skirt and have a foul mouth.
When I started the dojo -- an early lesson along with "there is no such thing as can't" was the lesson of there is no cursing in the dojo. Initially I think it was a shock to my system. I came in independent, hard headed, and full of my own ideas of what kind of person I was -- some may claim I am still this way. :)
At first, stopping cursing was just part of following the rules of the dojo. Then it became part of following the etiquette of the dojo. Then it became something else.
I was taught that the purpose of martial arts is to work towards the perfection of character. Although I know that I have just begun to scratch the surface in my own training -- this phrase continues to come up.
I always used to wonder why those that came before me seemed very careful in their word choices, phrasing, and interaction with those beneath them. Now, when I consider myself and how those beneath me relate to me -- I understand the need to be careful.
It is true that people are watching and learning even when you think they are not. I now understand that part of not cursing is that to curse diminishes the dignity, honor, and decorum that one should carry and possess when they are both a serious practitioner of the martial arts and a student of an instructor -- whose ways they are expected to carry forward.
Does this mean I never curse anymore? Mostly I never curse anymore.... except when I stub my toe on my coffee table. What you learn in the dojo begins to carry forward into other parts of your life. Does this mean I never relax and let loose? Sure I do, but not with you.
Not because I don't like you, but it's my responsibility to teach the way I was taught -- it's part of the training so that same sense of dignity, honor, and decorum can be passed to you and to those beneath you.
When I started the dojo -- an early lesson along with "there is no such thing as can't" was the lesson of there is no cursing in the dojo. Initially I think it was a shock to my system. I came in independent, hard headed, and full of my own ideas of what kind of person I was -- some may claim I am still this way. :)
At first, stopping cursing was just part of following the rules of the dojo. Then it became part of following the etiquette of the dojo. Then it became something else.
I was taught that the purpose of martial arts is to work towards the perfection of character. Although I know that I have just begun to scratch the surface in my own training -- this phrase continues to come up.
I always used to wonder why those that came before me seemed very careful in their word choices, phrasing, and interaction with those beneath them. Now, when I consider myself and how those beneath me relate to me -- I understand the need to be careful.
It is true that people are watching and learning even when you think they are not. I now understand that part of not cursing is that to curse diminishes the dignity, honor, and decorum that one should carry and possess when they are both a serious practitioner of the martial arts and a student of an instructor -- whose ways they are expected to carry forward.
Does this mean I never curse anymore? Mostly I never curse anymore.... except when I stub my toe on my coffee table. What you learn in the dojo begins to carry forward into other parts of your life. Does this mean I never relax and let loose? Sure I do, but not with you.
Not because I don't like you, but it's my responsibility to teach the way I was taught -- it's part of the training so that same sense of dignity, honor, and decorum can be passed to you and to those beneath you.
Outside Perceptions
I was taught a long time ago that there are two kinds of martial artists:
1. Those that play at martial arts and want everyone to know that they study martial arts
2. and those that don't
I'd like to think that I fall under the second category. In general, I was taught that if you're a serious practitioner -- you keep it relatively secret from others. One reason being that it takes away an advantage of surprise if others know your capabilities.
Sometimes people find out that I study martial arts. My family mostly knows because of the numerous scheduling conflicts that arise -- after awhile they want to know why I'm unable to attend festivities with them on Mondays, Wednesdays or Fridays and some Saturdays and why I take trips to obscure places that have no obvious travel appeal. Once in awhile -- they tell someone they know about me.
Sometimes I bring it up in conversation -- when I'm trying to convince a woman to try class or take a women's self defense clinic. The truth is that I have a difficult time keeping my secret because I want people to try class.
I'll tell the woman next door about it when she complains that her husband belittles her and that she has to live with his physically aggressive daughter (that also happens to be in a local gang). I'll tell the meek woman down the street about it who allows her young teen sons to bully her and be disrespectful towards others. I'll tell the shy, scared, low-self-esteem woman about it. I'll tell the parent about it that has a shy child that's lacking social skills. I'll tell the person that has a negative, pessimistic outlook on life. I'll tell the woman that just had her house broken into, and almost walked in on the crime. I know it can help all of them. I want it to help all of them.
I imagine if they only saw how much class can help -- that they'd be life long practitioners.
That's most often -- not the case.
I've found that most people I talk to about the martial arts, including family, fall into the following categories:
1. 90% will think it's weird, although most will not say it
2. 9% will think it's neat, but will never try it (because secretly they think it's weird)
3. 1% may think it's neat enough to try
For the majority of people that think it's strange, they will think it's additionally strange if you're a girl that chooses willingly to study what they consider to be "fighting." They don't see it as "self-defense" or confidence building skills. They equate martial arts with violent fighting -- and for a girl they don't see the interest.
I do have to say -- that the vast majority that I've encountered that feel this way -- are women. The men that know, think it's cute, even though they don't understand the appeal. The women, however, are different. I've heard the following comments from my mother, grandmother, cousins, friends, acquaintences...
-- "I'm a woman not a man, i have no interest in being like a man"
-- "that's not for girls"
-- "why do you do that to yourself"
When they say these things, they often don't realize that they're saying it to a woman that actively studies the martial arts and likes it. They don't see that. In their mind: martial arts = for men. But the women who say these things are exactly the type of women that would benefit from class --- they're fearful, afraid of being alone, co-dependant, lack self-esteem.
Studying martial arts doesn't make you a man. Just like male chefs aren't women.
The sad truth is that the women or people that need class the most, will never try it.
But do I continue to try and help the women I know? Yes. Do I continue to get shot down? Yes. I guess I learn the hard way. But I don't want to give up on them. Just as my instructor has not given up on me.
1. Those that play at martial arts and want everyone to know that they study martial arts
2. and those that don't
I'd like to think that I fall under the second category. In general, I was taught that if you're a serious practitioner -- you keep it relatively secret from others. One reason being that it takes away an advantage of surprise if others know your capabilities.
Sometimes people find out that I study martial arts. My family mostly knows because of the numerous scheduling conflicts that arise -- after awhile they want to know why I'm unable to attend festivities with them on Mondays, Wednesdays or Fridays and some Saturdays and why I take trips to obscure places that have no obvious travel appeal. Once in awhile -- they tell someone they know about me.
Sometimes I bring it up in conversation -- when I'm trying to convince a woman to try class or take a women's self defense clinic. The truth is that I have a difficult time keeping my secret because I want people to try class.
I'll tell the woman next door about it when she complains that her husband belittles her and that she has to live with his physically aggressive daughter (that also happens to be in a local gang). I'll tell the meek woman down the street about it who allows her young teen sons to bully her and be disrespectful towards others. I'll tell the shy, scared, low-self-esteem woman about it. I'll tell the parent about it that has a shy child that's lacking social skills. I'll tell the person that has a negative, pessimistic outlook on life. I'll tell the woman that just had her house broken into, and almost walked in on the crime. I know it can help all of them. I want it to help all of them.
I imagine if they only saw how much class can help -- that they'd be life long practitioners.
That's most often -- not the case.
I've found that most people I talk to about the martial arts, including family, fall into the following categories:
1. 90% will think it's weird, although most will not say it
2. 9% will think it's neat, but will never try it (because secretly they think it's weird)
3. 1% may think it's neat enough to try
For the majority of people that think it's strange, they will think it's additionally strange if you're a girl that chooses willingly to study what they consider to be "fighting." They don't see it as "self-defense" or confidence building skills. They equate martial arts with violent fighting -- and for a girl they don't see the interest.
I do have to say -- that the vast majority that I've encountered that feel this way -- are women. The men that know, think it's cute, even though they don't understand the appeal. The women, however, are different. I've heard the following comments from my mother, grandmother, cousins, friends, acquaintences...
-- "I'm a woman not a man, i have no interest in being like a man"
-- "that's not for girls"
-- "why do you do that to yourself"
When they say these things, they often don't realize that they're saying it to a woman that actively studies the martial arts and likes it. They don't see that. In their mind: martial arts = for men. But the women who say these things are exactly the type of women that would benefit from class --- they're fearful, afraid of being alone, co-dependant, lack self-esteem.
Studying martial arts doesn't make you a man. Just like male chefs aren't women.
The sad truth is that the women or people that need class the most, will never try it.
But do I continue to try and help the women I know? Yes. Do I continue to get shot down? Yes. I guess I learn the hard way. But I don't want to give up on them. Just as my instructor has not given up on me.
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
In the Dojo: New Women
I am always so happy when we have other women join our dojo or try a class -- because it's a rarity. When it does happen the most important thing is to make them feel welcome. If you've been in the martial arts for any length of time, you've probably forgotten how intimidating class is/was when you first started. Or maybe you liked it right away -- I, for sure, did not.
The first time I tried our martial arts class, I didn't want to go back for the second class. The techniques that I learned during the first class weren't difficult -- it was the sheer loudness of the class that got to me -- something I never would have expected. I'm not a wishy washy kinda girl, but somehow for me, the loudness made everything seem all the more violent -- not something I was looking for. I distinctly remember during the warm up exercises (in the beginning of class) -- the whole class was slapping the mats and kiaiing. The combo made for a deafening roar -- when I was expecting a softer more mellow atmosphere. Get me outta there.
Long story short -- my husband convinced me to go back to the second class -- and I've been loving class ever since. But I can see for those ladies who try class without a partner or without a friend -- they may not have a friend or loved one convince them to go back and give it a second chance. The first time you try something completely new and different can be quite shocking -- the second time you try it -- not so shocking, third time, even less shocking, etc. Until it's not shocking anymore, and realize you just might like it.
As a girl in the dojo, I try and help ALL new students get to the place where they are less shocked and can truly evaluate whether class is for them or not. But with the women, I'm extra sensitive. Here are some things that may go through their minds:
1. Being shocked. I like to warn all new students, especially women about some things that may be shocking at first. Somehow if they know it's coming -- it helps lighten the blow.
2. Being accepted & welcomed. We all know that women can be catty. I like to relieve a women's concerns about this right off the bat. I'm not here to compete with her or be catty, there's no room in the dojo for those games -- I'm here to help her (as well as the other students). Plus everyone wants to feel welcome in a new environment that is already intimidating and scary -- both men and women.
3. Not knowing if they can do it. My job and your job is to show them that they can do it -- by performing your techniques well. Inspire and push those beneath you by pushing yourself.
I'm not what you would consider a girly girl. Sometimes we get girly girls in the dojo -- the ones that have two inch long acrylic nails, come in with a full face of makeup, hair done up, etc. That's fine. They are welcome. With these girls it's even more important to follow numbers 1-3 above. Do not ignore them. Do not get catty. Make them feel welcome, because more so than anyone else they may feel shocked and completely out of their element.
I'm a bit biased in that I really truly believe that martial arts can help all people -- but it's up to each person to find that. They're the ones that have to climb the hill. Help them get through the shock, make them feel welcome -- so they can have a chance to really learn.
I'm so glad that I didn't follow through on my initial decision to not go back to class -- because it was a decision based on fear. Help the new students get through the fear.
The first time I tried our martial arts class, I didn't want to go back for the second class. The techniques that I learned during the first class weren't difficult -- it was the sheer loudness of the class that got to me -- something I never would have expected. I'm not a wishy washy kinda girl, but somehow for me, the loudness made everything seem all the more violent -- not something I was looking for. I distinctly remember during the warm up exercises (in the beginning of class) -- the whole class was slapping the mats and kiaiing. The combo made for a deafening roar -- when I was expecting a softer more mellow atmosphere. Get me outta there.
Long story short -- my husband convinced me to go back to the second class -- and I've been loving class ever since. But I can see for those ladies who try class without a partner or without a friend -- they may not have a friend or loved one convince them to go back and give it a second chance. The first time you try something completely new and different can be quite shocking -- the second time you try it -- not so shocking, third time, even less shocking, etc. Until it's not shocking anymore, and realize you just might like it.
As a girl in the dojo, I try and help ALL new students get to the place where they are less shocked and can truly evaluate whether class is for them or not. But with the women, I'm extra sensitive. Here are some things that may go through their minds:
1. Being shocked. I like to warn all new students, especially women about some things that may be shocking at first. Somehow if they know it's coming -- it helps lighten the blow.
2. Being accepted & welcomed. We all know that women can be catty. I like to relieve a women's concerns about this right off the bat. I'm not here to compete with her or be catty, there's no room in the dojo for those games -- I'm here to help her (as well as the other students). Plus everyone wants to feel welcome in a new environment that is already intimidating and scary -- both men and women.
3. Not knowing if they can do it. My job and your job is to show them that they can do it -- by performing your techniques well. Inspire and push those beneath you by pushing yourself.
I'm not what you would consider a girly girl. Sometimes we get girly girls in the dojo -- the ones that have two inch long acrylic nails, come in with a full face of makeup, hair done up, etc. That's fine. They are welcome. With these girls it's even more important to follow numbers 1-3 above. Do not ignore them. Do not get catty. Make them feel welcome, because more so than anyone else they may feel shocked and completely out of their element.
I'm a bit biased in that I really truly believe that martial arts can help all people -- but it's up to each person to find that. They're the ones that have to climb the hill. Help them get through the shock, make them feel welcome -- so they can have a chance to really learn.
I'm so glad that I didn't follow through on my initial decision to not go back to class -- because it was a decision based on fear. Help the new students get through the fear.
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Teenage Addendum -- Fun
I didn't mention a very important part of teaching teenage boys, mostly because I'm still learning the concept myself. One thing that helps with teenage boys is to make sure they have fun.
This is difficult in a traditional martial arts dojo where the concept of "fun" is the repetition and perfection of techniques and challenging yourself to perform better than the class before. Very few adults have the patience for this kind of training -- let alone teenage boys. I can tell them that the process of training is the most important part -- that the "way" in which you do everything is just as important as what you are doing --- but they don't want to hear that, nor should they. They're not ready for that yet.
What they want and need -- is to have their minds engaged. One way to do that is to make sure they are having fun. Not fun through joking or messing around. But fun through movement and challenge.
The other night I had an opportunity to work with one of the more difficult students in our class -- he most likely has a severe case of ADHD. I don't ask, mostly because it doesn't matter -- in the dojo -- we train, regardless of who you are or what you come in with.
On previous occasions this particular student stretched me to my limits. He would make up his own "kata" in the middle of serious practice, he would turn the other way while the head instructor was giving instruction, and would overtly laugh or giggle when the instructor would give him corrections directly. I'm sure every student in the dojo has secretly dreamed of putting this kid in his place.
Ok -- back to my story. The other night I had an opportunity to work with this particular student. However, prior to showing up at the dojo I had been thinking about him and thinking about how our Sensei responds to this student who has been by far the most challenging I have seen in my short 10 years. What I realized is that when all the other students are fuming (myself included) at the kid's behaviour, our instructor is always calm and good natured with him. So before class the other day, I decided that I would try a different tact if I had the opportunity to work out with the student. Low and behold -- the opportunity presented itself.
Class was class -- we maybe did a few things that the student had not been exposed to before -- but nothing uncharacteristic of what would be in a typical class -- what was different was my attitude. As soon as my attitude changed -- the kid changed. I had decided that I was going to have fun working out with him. What ended up happening is that he had fun too. We had a great time workout together. And during that time -- he was focused and respectful -- well 90% of time which is light years ahead of where he was.
It taught me something. It taught me a different way to connect with him and teach him. I only have my instructor's patience -- both for myself and for the teenager to thank.
This is difficult in a traditional martial arts dojo where the concept of "fun" is the repetition and perfection of techniques and challenging yourself to perform better than the class before. Very few adults have the patience for this kind of training -- let alone teenage boys. I can tell them that the process of training is the most important part -- that the "way" in which you do everything is just as important as what you are doing --- but they don't want to hear that, nor should they. They're not ready for that yet.
What they want and need -- is to have their minds engaged. One way to do that is to make sure they are having fun. Not fun through joking or messing around. But fun through movement and challenge.
The other night I had an opportunity to work with one of the more difficult students in our class -- he most likely has a severe case of ADHD. I don't ask, mostly because it doesn't matter -- in the dojo -- we train, regardless of who you are or what you come in with.
On previous occasions this particular student stretched me to my limits. He would make up his own "kata" in the middle of serious practice, he would turn the other way while the head instructor was giving instruction, and would overtly laugh or giggle when the instructor would give him corrections directly. I'm sure every student in the dojo has secretly dreamed of putting this kid in his place.
Ok -- back to my story. The other night I had an opportunity to work with this particular student. However, prior to showing up at the dojo I had been thinking about him and thinking about how our Sensei responds to this student who has been by far the most challenging I have seen in my short 10 years. What I realized is that when all the other students are fuming (myself included) at the kid's behaviour, our instructor is always calm and good natured with him. So before class the other day, I decided that I would try a different tact if I had the opportunity to work out with the student. Low and behold -- the opportunity presented itself.
Class was class -- we maybe did a few things that the student had not been exposed to before -- but nothing uncharacteristic of what would be in a typical class -- what was different was my attitude. As soon as my attitude changed -- the kid changed. I had decided that I was going to have fun working out with him. What ended up happening is that he had fun too. We had a great time workout together. And during that time -- he was focused and respectful -- well 90% of time which is light years ahead of where he was.
It taught me something. It taught me a different way to connect with him and teach him. I only have my instructor's patience -- both for myself and for the teenager to thank.
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Working With / Teaching Men: Part 2 of 2
Teenage Boys
One of the bigger challenges I've had in teaching men is working with teenage boys. They have new bodies that they don't know quite how to work yet, tons of hormones that make them freak out, and sometimes a very healthy dose of lethargy and laziness. Plus, by the time they come to us -- there isn't much respect there for female authority figures.
In our dojo, most of the teenage boys that show up -- are not there out of their own free will -- meaning their parents make them show up. Most of the time that means a combination of several things:
-- No father in the home or comes from a broken home
-- The kid needs discipline and/or focus and is probably not doing well in school
-- The kid is getting picked on
-- The kid spends too much time on the computer/watching TV and is not active
-- The kid hasn't been well socialized -- i.e. social skills are lacking
-- They have other issues: ADD, ADHD, developmental disorders, etc.
The teenagers that don't show up with one or two of the above items -- are typically fine to work with. Good kids. But the other one's, the one's that need our help the most -- are also the biggest challenges. It's even tougher if you're a woman trying to help them.
As I mentioned, in most of my experience -- the most challenging teenage boys come in not respecting female authority figures. It's nothing personal. In fact, it might be pretty primal. They know they need to listen to a big guy -- a small girl, umm there is some question there. These are also the same kids that are acting up/rough housing outside of the dojo -- with their mothers standing by just watching, not saying a word. Then they bring their kids inside to us. They're used to several "norms" of behavior when they come to us. It sometimes takes awhile to change their thinking.
It's tough, but we're not allowed to give up on students -- no matter how much they don't want to be taught.
What's Worked for Me...so far (I'm still learning on the way)
** NOTE: You may not like the words I'm about to write -- and I don't propose this method. It's just something I've developed over the years in trying to get through to the most challenged youths. Each person will develop their own teachning style over time.
With teenage boys that are the most challenging, I've found the following things work:
1. Have a clear conversation. I like to have an open convesation with them as I look them directly in the eye. This way there is no pretense. Honesty makes things more simple and clear. Some how when you discuss negative behaviour out in the open, it changes. Kids are pretty smart. They'll keep trying the same old stuff that has worked at home or at school -- until someone calls them on it. I'll say things like:
-- "Do you know what sandbagging is? It's when someone is pretending not to do as well as they could be doing. I think you're sandbagging. You and I both know you're not trying 100%. I know you're capable of more than that."
**But it always has to come from a place of wanting to help them. And you have to believe it to say it -- otherwise they'll see right through you.
2. For every "come down hard"-- you need some "atta boys" thrown in for good measure. How many "atta boys" you need will depend on the person. Sometimes someone needs 10 "atta boys" (compliments) for every time you come down hard on them, others it's a 1:1 ratio. Either way, it has to be a combo of coming down hard balanced with compliments of things they're doing well.
3. Tire them out. Gotta tire them out physcally or else they simply can't listen -- plus they have so much built up energy -- it's gotta go somewhere. I do this through challenges like 1,000 punches, or holding difficult stances for an extended period of time. I even tell them that I don't care if their legs shake or hurt or if they fall down -- they need to hold it anyway. Amazingly -- most of the time they like the challenge. They get a challenge -- and I get them worn out so then can listen. Win win.
In general -- it's balanced tough love -- but it sets the stage for clear expectations and doesn't allow them to play the same games that they play every where else... school, home, etc. In fact, most of the troubled kids are just calling out for attention -- any kind good or bad. I like to cut through the crap and end the game.
One of the bigger challenges I've had in teaching men is working with teenage boys. They have new bodies that they don't know quite how to work yet, tons of hormones that make them freak out, and sometimes a very healthy dose of lethargy and laziness. Plus, by the time they come to us -- there isn't much respect there for female authority figures.
In our dojo, most of the teenage boys that show up -- are not there out of their own free will -- meaning their parents make them show up. Most of the time that means a combination of several things:
-- No father in the home or comes from a broken home
-- The kid needs discipline and/or focus and is probably not doing well in school
-- The kid is getting picked on
-- The kid spends too much time on the computer/watching TV and is not active
-- The kid hasn't been well socialized -- i.e. social skills are lacking
-- They have other issues: ADD, ADHD, developmental disorders, etc.
The teenagers that don't show up with one or two of the above items -- are typically fine to work with. Good kids. But the other one's, the one's that need our help the most -- are also the biggest challenges. It's even tougher if you're a woman trying to help them.
As I mentioned, in most of my experience -- the most challenging teenage boys come in not respecting female authority figures. It's nothing personal. In fact, it might be pretty primal. They know they need to listen to a big guy -- a small girl, umm there is some question there. These are also the same kids that are acting up/rough housing outside of the dojo -- with their mothers standing by just watching, not saying a word. Then they bring their kids inside to us. They're used to several "norms" of behavior when they come to us. It sometimes takes awhile to change their thinking.
It's tough, but we're not allowed to give up on students -- no matter how much they don't want to be taught.
What's Worked for Me...so far (I'm still learning on the way)
** NOTE: You may not like the words I'm about to write -- and I don't propose this method. It's just something I've developed over the years in trying to get through to the most challenged youths. Each person will develop their own teachning style over time.
With teenage boys that are the most challenging, I've found the following things work:
1. Have a clear conversation. I like to have an open convesation with them as I look them directly in the eye. This way there is no pretense. Honesty makes things more simple and clear. Some how when you discuss negative behaviour out in the open, it changes. Kids are pretty smart. They'll keep trying the same old stuff that has worked at home or at school -- until someone calls them on it. I'll say things like:
-- "Do you know what sandbagging is? It's when someone is pretending not to do as well as they could be doing. I think you're sandbagging. You and I both know you're not trying 100%. I know you're capable of more than that."
**But it always has to come from a place of wanting to help them. And you have to believe it to say it -- otherwise they'll see right through you.
2. For every "come down hard"-- you need some "atta boys" thrown in for good measure. How many "atta boys" you need will depend on the person. Sometimes someone needs 10 "atta boys" (compliments) for every time you come down hard on them, others it's a 1:1 ratio. Either way, it has to be a combo of coming down hard balanced with compliments of things they're doing well.
3. Tire them out. Gotta tire them out physcally or else they simply can't listen -- plus they have so much built up energy -- it's gotta go somewhere. I do this through challenges like 1,000 punches, or holding difficult stances for an extended period of time. I even tell them that I don't care if their legs shake or hurt or if they fall down -- they need to hold it anyway. Amazingly -- most of the time they like the challenge. They get a challenge -- and I get them worn out so then can listen. Win win.
In general -- it's balanced tough love -- but it sets the stage for clear expectations and doesn't allow them to play the same games that they play every where else... school, home, etc. In fact, most of the troubled kids are just calling out for attention -- any kind good or bad. I like to cut through the crap and end the game.
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