For Parents

If you dig through the archives on this blog, you’ll find a couple of entries where I have tried, for the most part to offer some thoughts for those who are looking to start training in a martial art. This time, I’d like to take a moment to talk about what it means to be a parent whose child is in a martial arts class. And, in case you’re wondering, my own child studies aikido, so I’m not exempt from a few of these recommendations.

Before we begin: I would say about 99% of the parents at our dojo recognize these ideas. We genuinely have a respectful dojo, where parents, kids, whole families are welcome and support each other as they learn self-defense. But no one is perfect, and a recent experience has inspired me to write a few of these thoughts down.

First, as a chief instructor of a dojo, I take the responsibility of teaching kids very seriously. I truly hope that no one in my class ever has to use what they’ve studied in a physical confrontation. That said, it is my goal to ensure that, should they need to defend themselves, they have the skills to do so. It is also my goal to support you in building your child’s mental and physical well-being; ultimately, I want to work with you to ensure that your child is getting the most out of their martial arts experience.  There is nothing more rewarding than seeing a child go from wallflower to class leader, from being aggressive to being willing to work with others. These benefits transcend the more immediate concern of “self-defense” without diluting the importance of it.

That said…

This is not soccer. Or baseball. Or gymnastics. Or any other sport where it is acceptable for you to sit on the sidelines and project your own past experiences in sports as a child. Unless you have significant martial arts experience yourself (and most parents do not), you cannot sit on the sidelines and judge what is correct and incorrect on the mat. You can, however, ask the instructor (or me) what you should expect to see from your child. At our dojo, we try to communicate the skill progressions expected for kids, but if you need more information, we’re happy to provide it. My point is: you likely do not have the frame of reference to really understand what is happening on the mat. If it doesn’t make sense to you, please ask before you start passing judgement.

Martial arts training, like anything else, requires that the kids be engaged when they train. This is true for any activity, of course. My folks love to relate how, when I “played” soccer, I had more fun finding bugs on the ground than going after the ball. Did this mean my coach was terrible? No. It meant that I was 8 years old, and interested in bugs (or the occasional hotwheel car). On the mat, the kids that do best with a given technique are the ones that are engaged with what’s going on around them. We do our best to keep them engaged, but in our dojo we recognize that kids are kids–we don’t punish them if they occasionally act, well, like kids! That said, if your child constantly bounces off the walls, or constantly refuses to try the technique we’re studying, I’d recommend you seriously consider whether they’re in the right place at this point in their lives. I’m not offended when a parent tells me that they’re pulling their child from class because they’re just not into it or not ready for it. I pulled my own daughter from aikido when it was clear she was more interested in playing games than listening to the instructor–she came back when she was ready to really participate in class. This is part of being a kid–you try different things and see what happens. If you elect to stand your ground and keep them in class, that’s great too–but expect that there may be many classes where progress means they simply got on the mat and stayed there.

Remember that a single class is not always an accurate snapshot of your child’s progress. I understand that there’s usually one parent who can’t see their child in class very often. I certainly fall into that category. But often I have seen that when the other parent does make an appearance, they seem to have an inflated sense of what they think they should see on the mat. It’s as if parents are pre-disposed to think that, after 6 months or a year of training, their children should be well-disciplined ninja warriors. This is not a movie, nor is it a military academy. It is a dojo. Again, I highly recommend that you ask the instructor what’s going on and why, so you can get a good frame of reference. If you then disagree with that frame of reference, you’re welcome to leave–this is why we don’t have contracts at our dojo. If you don’t have time to ask, then I suggest you keep your drive-by criticism to yourself. Oh, and one other note: when the chief instructor attempts to introduce him or herself to you, I highly recommend you do not blow them off. It’s just…not a good idea.

I’m curious what other parents or martial artists think about the role of parents in the dojo. Feel free to comment–if I’m off-base, I’d like to know.

Blogroll Update

I got an e-mail the other day from Rick Berry Sensei, one of the most experienced Kokikai Aikido instructors that I’ve had the honor of training with. I’ve mentioned Berry Sensei before, mostly because he is the author of Stepping Off the Mat, an excellent philosophical read that, through stories and anecdotes, extends the principles of aikido into daily living. Berry Sensei keeps his own blog, in which he provides some really interesting insights into aikido training and how an aikido mindset can impact how you move through the world.

I know that there a number of folks who visit my little corner of cyberspace who do not study aikido: I would still recommend checking out Berry Sensei’s blog. His background is not in aikido–for years he has also studied and taught Tae Kwon Do. I don’t think I truly appreciated the power of a punch until one day, during a seminar with Berry Sensei in Seattle, I was asked to imobilize his arm in a classic katatetori grab. Within a split second I was bent backwards, staring at two knuckles that I knew, without question, that I could not prevent from meeting my nose in a most unpleasant fashion. Then, still staring at those knuckles, I found myself gently set on the ground, with Berry Sensei standing over me acting as if nothing I hadn’t done a thing. (And, in fact, I hadn’t–I never even got the chance!)

Anyway, Berry Sensei’s e-mail was to let me know that he has a new website: www.senseiberry.com. If you haven’t taken a moment to read some of his writings, I highly recommend it.

Pictures!

So, a little over a year ago the dojo moved from the YMCA to its current location. Although I was extremely nervous about the move, I must say it was one of the best decisions we as a community made. We were able to expand our classes and expand our curriculum, which has resulted in us making great strides in better understanding martial techniques and strategies.

More importantly, however, is that we have been able to expand as a community. I got a real sense of how much we’ve grown a couple of days ago, when we had testing. Just for fun, I made sure that everyone got on the mat so we could have a picture or two taken. And here we are!

First, a group shot of both kids and adults:

Most of the kids, along with the instructors:

As always, some of the adults were late, so we took an extra shot with them. Don’t ask me why there are several off to one side…

I must say that it is truly an honor to share Kokikai Aikido with such a great group of people. I’ve had so many people come up to me and say that they could study a martial art anywhere, but that they like our dojo because it’s a community. Even parents, who don’t train, tell me that one of their favorite parts of their day is stting in our waiting area, chatting with other parents, while their kids are in class.

It is, quite simply, an amazing and humbling experience, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

The Power of the Thumb

One of my favorite movies in the “find on cable at 11:00pm” category is The Presidio. Why is this a favorite? Because there is a classic scene in which the two main characters, Lt. Col. Caldwell and Jay Austin (played by Sean Connery and Mark Harmon, respectively), are getting hassled by two guys in a bar. After a few minutes, Caldwell turns to one of the bullies and says:

Now, are you sure you want to have a fight? Because I’m only going to use my thumb.

The bully in question, of course, finds this hard to believe. So, in true Sean-Connery-coolness style, Caldwell proceeds to pummel the guy using, just his thumb.

It’s a great scene, and it came to mind the other day when we were in class working on several techinque fundamentals: tsuki kotegaeshi and katate-tori shihonage in particular. One of the points we discussed in class was how both techniques rely on just the thumb to make the them effective. For example, tsuki kotegaeshi, is a defense against a punch in which the basic idea is to step off the line of attack, turn, and–using your forearm, wrist, and hand–hook the attackers punch. One of the keys to making this technique effective is in how much focus, how much strength, is channelled through your thumb. Basically, the premise is simple: if you apply the right amount of pressure with your thumb, you’re far more likely to get the control you need to make the technique work. If your thumb is weak, then it’s likely your grip will break and your opponent can counter your movement.

The same principle holds true with shihonage. In this classic technique, the attacker is attempting to grab your wrist in order to keep you from attacking with it. As they grab, you counter hold with your opposite hand, swinging and turning your opponent, which leads to their complete loss of balance. Again, the focus on the thumb is essential. Without it, the counter hold is not only weak, it is ineffective in leading your opponent out of their center.

In way, these technique all come down to the thumb.

The ramifications of this are very interesting to think about. The muscles in the hand are supposively some of the hardest muscles to strengthen; however, once they are strengthened, they retain their strength far longer than other parts of your body, such as your arms. Think of the older martial arts instructors that you’ve met. I know that one of the things that always caught my attention was not only their sense of timing, but how strong they were. When I thought about, though, I realized that their strength did not come from their arms or chest, but came from their grip. Once they got a hold of you, it was over.

We spent the rest of class looking at other techniques, exploring how the thumb and the grip were essential in ensuring the technique worked effectively. It’s funny how something as simple as your thumb can level the playing field–no matter how much faster, stronger, or younger your opponent may be.