Some Students Stay With You Even After They LeaveEarly in my teaching career, I had a student who stood out almost immediately. She was a white belt and had barely trained with us, but there was something different about the way she moved. Her posture was good. Her fundamentals were good. She understood timing. She had speed and power. For a beginner, she carried herself more like someone who had already been training for a year. I remember thinking: This kid is gifted. At the time, if a lower-rank student demonstrated that kind of ability, I was willing to double-promote them. So I did. She went from white belt to yellow belt. And at that point in my teaching career, I believed it was the right decision. I still do. She had earned it based on what I was evaluating then. What I Didn't Know YetI've been teaching long enough now that my methods have changed. Today, strong fundamentals alone wouldn't be enough for a double promotion. I'd also want to see their sparring and their maturity of understanding. My standards became broader because experience taught me that being exceptional at one part of martial arts doesn't necessarily mean you're ready in all of it. But what I saw in her that day was real. I still remember it. She trained with us for about a year and a half before academics became more important and martial arts became less of a priority. And that's okay. Not every talented student is supposed to become a lifelong martial artist. When you teach someone who's obviously talented, it's hard not to wonder how far they might go. How good could they become? What rank could they reach? But that's also one of the things teaching for a long time eventually teaches you. Martial arts may be an important part of someone's life without becoming their whole life. We get to know these kids during one chapter. We don't always know what the rest of the book is going to look like. Years LaterYears passed. Then my son was born. My family was at the hospital, and during one of the most important—and vulnerable—moments of my life, I discovered that this former student was working as a nurse on the same ward. She wasn't our nurse. She wasn't responsible for us. There were no favors involved. She was simply there. And we talked. We remembered who she had been back then. We talked about her family—her younger sister and the baby brother I remembered from years earlier. And mostly, we just picked up where we had left off. Some former students feel awkward when they see their instructor years later. Others don't. With her, it was easy. I remember being so happy for her. She made it. Not in martial arts. She went on, focused on school and became a nurse. That was her accomplishment, not mine. I was just happy to see what she had done with her life. Sometimes That's EnoughThere was something comforting about seeing her in that hospital. Not because I expected anything from her. But when you're in a vulnerable place, there's something reassuring about knowing that somewhere nearby is a warm face who knows who you are. Nothing had to be different about our care. The hospital simply felt a little less unfamiliar because someone there knew me. Sometimes that's enough. As instructors, we spend years thinking about what we're trying to give our students. Technique. Discipline. Confidence. Maybe a little wisdom if they'll listen to us long enough. But eventually they leave the room. They grow up. Their lives become their own. And every once in a while, you're fortunate enough to cross paths again. You remember the kid standing in front of you years earlier, and now you're looking at the adult they became. You realize you were only there for a small part of the journey. And maybe that's the privilege of teaching. You don't get to decide where every student ends up. Sometimes you simply get to know them for a while, give them whatever you can, and hope that somewhere down the road they build something good with their life. I'm still glad I double-promoted that white belt. But I'm much happier knowing what she eventually became. If you're looking for a martial arts school for your child, you're welcome to come by and see what we're about. We'd be happy to have them try a class with us. |
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...