I Know Where I Was the Day I Saw Him GreatSometimes a student will show you something you weren't expecting. We were doing a sparring drill. I had a mid-ranked student working with another student who was slightly lower in rank. The lower-ranked student just couldn't get the sequence right. And a couple of times, he kicked the other student in the no-no square. The first couple of times, he let it slide. Eventually he'd had enough and gave some of the power back. And then something happened. This small human suddenly started moving differently. His timing changed. He was reading and reacting almost like he could feel the telegraph coming. For a few minutes, I wasn't watching a mid-ranked student anymore. He was moving like a veteran. I remember thinking: Where the hell did THAT come from? And he had no idea he was doing it. He was still worked up. I wasn't going to tell him to calm down. I changed the drill. Changed the focus. Changed the tempo and speed. Then I let it play itself out. I'm still controlling the boundaries. Safety, of course. But sometimes you have to let things happen. The beginners could feel the difference. Some of them got a little scared. The higher ranks knew exactly what they were looking at. Some got pumped up. Others raised their level to match him. Then came the chatter. I like chatter. Sometimes you'll hear one of the higher ranks say: “You've arrived. Now you're at my level.” The funny thing is, the student usually doesn't know what just happened. Five minutes later I can introduce another drill and he's a lower rank again. That's okay. He didn't suddenly become a veteran. I just saw something I hadn't seen before. Now I know what he's capable of. I'm not going to tell him next class how good he was. I'd rather find another drill and see if he can find it again. Then another. Until eventually he knows that feeling too. But for now, I know it's there. And every once in a while, teaching gives me a moment like that. A moment when I'm the one who's honoured to be there. Because one day, when that child achieves greatness, I'll know where I was the day I saw him great. |
After 35 years of teaching martial arts, I’ve learned that the lessons don’t always come from the instructor. What worked, what didn’t, what changed my mind, and what students and parents have taught me along the way.
The Moment You Stop Watching the Class There is a point when a parent stops coming inside. At first, they stay for everything. Shoes come off. Coat comes off. Belt gets adjusted. Somebody asks where to stand. Somebody forgets where to stand even though we covered that about thirty seconds ago. Then one day the child gets out of the car, looks back and says: “Bye, Mom.” Or: “Bye, Dad.” And disappears through the front door. The first few times, the parent usually laughs. Eventually, they stop...
The First Class Back Is Not a Test After a long break, students rarely come back exactly where they left off. Timing is usually off. Their circadian rhythm may be off too. Summer does that. Later nights. Later mornings. Different schedules. Less structure. And for a lot of kids, less physical activity. So if I take a student who has been off for most of July and August and immediately throw them into complicated poomsae, hard sparring drills, burpees and push-ups, it is probably going to be...
Changing the Drill Doesn’t Mean Lowering the Standard Parents sometimes want change from their child. Listen the first time. Pay attention. Stop doing this. Start doing that. And when the change does not happen, the natural reaction can be to repeat the instruction. Sometimes louder. Sometimes more often. I understand that. I do it in martial arts too. But over the years I have learned something: If the student is not changing, sometimes I have to change what I am doing first. That does not...