Learning Japanese

I don’t speak Japanese.

Quite a shocking truth, I know. Okay, maybe it’s not so shocking. After all, it would probably be a safe bet to say that, in most cases, people who study a martial art don’t speak the native language of the country from which the art originated. In Kokikai, we use fewer Japanese terms than in other forms of aikido. This is in large part because of Sensei’s interest in Kokikai being an international martial art. It’s probably also due in part to the fact that Japanese is a difficult language to learn for many, and learning it does not mean one has a better understanding of Kokikai (or any other martial art, for that matter).

However, I have always found the Japanese language to be fascinating, and definitely one that I would like to learn even if I never had started my Kokikai studies. I’ve also been fortunate to meet two friends, both american, who are fluent in Japanese. Both of them, independently, gave me the following advice regarding learning the language:

1. Move to Japan.
2. Study for 10 years.
3. Give up.

Very encouraging, isn’t it?

But just because something is difficult to do, doesn’t mean I shouldn’t try! That attitude has helped me make the transition from teaching at a YMCA to having a full-time dojo and keeps me plugging away at understanding tsuki kotegaeshi. Also, the fact that this Fall I’m helping host an International Convention of Kokikai students–many of whom are coming from Japan–has given me some incentive to learn at least a little Japanese. Perhaps in 10 years, I may give up, but I’ll deal with that when the time comes.

Since I don’t have the time to go to school again, I’ve been looking at different ways of learning Japanese. One option is software from Rosetta Stone–available at a mall kiosk near you! While I have heard good things about this program, and could likely purchase the software as a business expense, I have cringed a bit at shelling out $300 for the product. There are many free sites available, but most of these are text only–I need to hear the language if I’m ever going to be able to speak even a little of it.

Right now, then, I have settled on trying out a web site I found: www.japanesepod101.com. I’ve already listened to their first “lesson”: it focused on saying “How are you?” and introducing yourself. The sites podcasts seem to be free, but they charge for lesson notes, which I think are important. (I’d hate to think I’m saying how are you, only to find that I misheard the podcast!) I have no illusions that I will be fluent in Japanese through the use of this web site; but if I can move myself from “barely understand a word of it outside the dojo” to “I can speak a small smattering of it,” well, I think that would be a good start.

I’m interest in anyone else’s opinions on learning Japanese–what resources you used, and so on. Feel free to let me know what you think.

Summer Camp, 2007

Last week, for the first time in over 10 years, I was able to attend Aikido Kokikai’s Summer Camp, held in the beautiful campus of Villanova University.

For those unfamiliar with Kokikai Camps, a small explanation: roughly three times a year, Sensei holds a national training opportunity, in which Kokikai practitioners from all over are invited to meet, train, and get inspired. While any of these events are great opportunities not only to see Sensei, but also to connect with other members of Kokikai, Summer Camp has always stood out. This is because, unlike the other camps, Summer Camp is a full four days long, with hours of training packed into each day. Also, most of us stay on-campus in dorms, and eat our meals at a campus cafeteria. The result is that you get to spend a lot of time with everyone both on and off the mat, and you leave for home feeling physically tired but mentally and emotionally charged up to share what you’ve learned with the folks at your local dojo.

It would be an arduous task to try to encapsulate all of Summer Camp into a single blog post; so I won’t try. But I still would like to share a few of my impressions of camp:

First, I was overwhelmed at the diversity and friendliness of all the students on the mat. There were young folks, older folks, folks that had been training for years and folks that had been training for only a few months. All of us worked together to understand Kokikai technique and Kokikai principles. Sensei has often said that the goal of our training is first to find out best possible state, the second goal then is to prove that state through technique. With all these people on the mat, opportunities abounded to seek, discover, and test a variety of thoughts and perceptions. I can honestly say that I learned from every single person with whom I trained, and I hope that I might have reciprocated at least once or twice. Also, there was a tremendous amount of openness and honesty on the mat, and a noticeable lack of ego or pride. One person in particular, known for his ukemi skills, asked me if it was all right that he was resisting my technique. (We were trying something new, and I was only successful about half the time.) I responded: “Of course I don’t mind! How else do we ensure we’re training correctly?” He grinned, and we both continued training, trying our hardest to make the other person respond correctly, and feeling great when, every now and then, one of us really caught the right idea and caught the other’s posture and balance. This exchange stuck with me because I appreciated the fact that he wanted to be sure I knew he was not resisting out of a sense of ego, but out of a desire to ensure we both improved.

Second, I was amazed at how gentle techniques were. If someone were ever to ask me to sum up Kokikai technique in as few words as possible, I’d probably say “Gentle Effectiveness.” Despite the rigorousness of our training schedule, despite the heat, and despite the fact that there were a lot of people on the mat, not a single person got injured. Sensei was very, very happy about this: he continually pointed out that it was important that we take care of each other and ensure we train with minimum risk of injury. I have rarely experienced such a balance between effective martial arts studies and gentleness. One would normally think the two concepts are mutually exclusive. More and more, I’m finding that the opposite is true; the more gentle you treat your opponent, the more effective the technique. Note that by gentle I do not mean “soft.” I mean that the focus is on finding a path that removes the uke’s power with minimum risk of injury. It’s remarkable, really, how many situations exist in which such paths are available.

Third, and most important, is Sensei himself was inspirational. One of the things that really strikes me about Sensei is that he’s very much a human being. He is not perfect, and he seems to recognize that fact. Of course, that doesn’t mean he’s not the guy in charge, and thus demands and deserves a high level of respect and tolerance. But he constantly recognizes that he himself is still growing, still learning, still studying. One illustration of this came when I erroneously referred to Sensei as “Sensei Maruyama.” He was quick to point out to me that he was to be called “Sensei.” One reason for this is simple: there is only one Sensei, and he’s it. The rest of us may use the term when referring to each other or within our respective dojos, but when he’s around, he’s Sensei. When you think about it, however, how many other terms exist for martial arts masters? There’s O-Sensei, of course, “Great Teacher.” There’s kyoshi, renshi, hanshi, shihan… the Japanese language is rich and complex. Sensei could adopt any title he’d like, and it would be well-deserved. But he chooses to remain with “Sensei.” I think that says a lot.

I’m sure that I’ll write more about Summer Camp in the coming months. But this was a good start. It was an amazing experience–I plan to never miss another Summer Camp if at all possible from here on out!

Dues

One of the more challenging aspects of running a dojo for me is the issue of dues. Like many martial arts instructors, I do not teach for a living; I have a day job that I enjoy immensely and, if I am to be honest, allows me to cover my family’s needs far better than I could if I were a full-time martial arts teacher. That said, when we moved our dojo into its own space, I knew that I had to run it as a business–a profitable business–or else things would quickly fall apart. I emphasize “profitable” because at first I merely hoped for the dojo to break even. But that’s a limited goal; if I shoot for break even, odds are I will always risk falling short. So I shoot for profitable, knowing that every penny over the break-even point is a buffer that can help cushion the lean times in dojo membership.

Yet I greatly dislike having to talk about money with my students. In fact, I go out of my way to avoid talking about money with my students. Training should be about training, after all. My role is to help teach, not to remind students about their financial obligations. So, when the dojo started, I came up with several ways to make things as easy as possible for everyone. We have a yearly membership rate, for example, that offers students a substantial discount. We have a recurring membership, so dues are paid automatically. And so on. Most of the dojo takes advantage of these options, which works out great for everyone. The students don’t have to worry about whether or not they paid their dues on time; I, on the other hand, don’t have to remind people that, for the dojo to function, it needs everyone’s financial support.

Despite my best efforts, however, there are always a couple of students who pay on a month-to-month basis. Most of the time, this is not an issue; unless they are late. Then I have to remind them about their obligations and see what happens. I’d like to say I don’t like doing this because I don’t want to deal with the business aspects of the dojo. But this isn’t true. I understand that the dojo’s a business and needs my attention in that regard. I don’t like reminding students to pay dues because, to be blunt, I shouldn’t have to. No one joins the dojo unless they are an adult or are sponsored by an adult. And, as adults, we understand that bills must be paid on time. I consider reminding people to pay their dues to be on the same level as reminding students that they really, really, really should make sure their feet are clean before they get on the mat. I’ll remind them, but do I really have to?

The same issue applies when students need financial help. I understand very well that there are some times where paying dues is very difficult. I have never had a problem coming up with creative solutions to help students who might be in times of financial stress. But I don’t feel it’s my obligation to suggest these solutions unsolicited. If a student needs help, I believe they should feel comfortable talking with someone–either myself, or a senior student–and stating that they need some assistance. It shows that the student is interesting in finding a solution for themselves, as opposed to having a solution handed to them.

On the plus side, the dojo has finally grown to the point that it very nearly (if not completely) covers its own expenses. A remarkable achievement for a business that’s only been open for 7 months. And, as I mentioned, the more the dojo grows and becomes profitable, the greater the buffer when there are lean times. It also ensures that we’re better able to help students who have some need of financial aid.