More than Self Defense
"You have to turn on your heel before you kick."
I looked up to see the boys' Sensei, Max Scruggs, head toward Teddy as my eldest practiced his back kicks, hook kicks and spinning kicks against the bag. I could see the frustration on Teddy's face as Sensei corrected his stance and moved his back foot into the proper position, but he said not a word. And under Sensei's watchful eye, I watched as he tried again. And again. And again. Not once, even after Sensei continued to correct him, did he let his frustration get out of control.
This wouldn't have been the case three years ago when he started karate under Max. Three years ago, Teddy could barely control his anger and frustration, instead stomping his feet, yelling at me, or throwing a temper tantrum when he didn't get his way. Honestly, it was part of why I wanted him to start learning karate. I'd heard from friends that karate was a good way to gain self-control. I'd heard from other friends that Max's school was the one I should bring him to. For all that I knew I wanted to bring him, it took me a few years before I actually did.
That first Saturday, I remember sitting in the church gym that houses Max's dojo, watching as Teddy took his first steps toward learning Wado Ryu Karate. But more than watching him, I remember talking with Max. He had (and probably still has) a two week trial period. It's as much to make sure that his dojo is a good fit for the person coming as it is to make sure that Max feels the new student will be a good fit for his dojo. He doesn't want kids that just want another sport, another bit of athletics to notch up. He wants the kids that he knows are going to learn, that are going to be WILLING to learn. And he teaches more than karate. He teaches life. He teaches kids to stand up for themselves. He teaches that the best way to win a fight is to avoid one if you can. He teaches that you need to be responsible for your own decisions. And he teaches that, if you don't give up, you can accomplish just about anything. One of the best lessons that he taught me, though, was not to underestimate either of my boys.
That first day, he naturally assumed that Pete would be taking karate as well. After all, his monthly fee was a family fee rather than an individual, so it wouldn't have cost anything more for him to join Teddy on the mat. "Oh, no," I told Max with a chuckle. "I wouldn't subject you to that!" Pete had a difficult time staying still, a difficult time doing tasks that took concentration, and a very difficult time being told what to do. I didn't want Sensei to waste his time with a child that I didn't think would be ready. But Max told me not to worry about it. That Pete would be fine. Just to let him know that he was expected to be on the floor, and that Max would take it from there.
For the first six months, Pete was on the floor, but would spend most of the time twirling in circles on his square. Max let him. He would talk to Pete but he wouldn't push him. Once Pete started to actually focus on lessons, he asked a little more of him. And a little more. And then even more. It was probably a year of Pete being on the floor before he even got his white belt (which required him memorizing the student pledge). Then Sensei started to be a little tougher on him. While Sensei did give him a little lattitude when it came to moving around, he didn't let him fritter away the whole session. Instead, he would send Pete off the floor if he became too disruptive. It was another nine months, with Pete being able to focus a little more each time, before he earned his yellow belt. Then Sensei tackled Pete's temper, sending him off the floor when Pete would stubbornly say he was doing something right when he obviously wasn't, or when his temper tantrums would start. It only took about six months for him to earn his orange belt. And now, he's over half way to earning his blue. He still has his moments, times when Sensei has to lay down the law. But he has far more moments when he beams from Sensei telling him how proud he is that he's come so far, giving him high fives, and helping him razz his big brother whenever he can.
Pete isn't the only one who has come a long way, and isn't the only one I've learned not to underestimate. The same can be said for Teddy. When he started karate, Teddy thought he knew everything. He was, and still is, a smart kid. He learned the student pledge between his first and second sessions. Learning the vocabulary words was always the easiest stripe for him to learn. These things, I knew, would be no problem for him. But I worried, especially after seeing how low his initial kicks were, how winded he got after running one lap around the mat, that he wouldn't be able to be in it for the long haul. I worried that I would have to keep forcing him to go, because once it got hard, he would want to quit. For all that there was a little of that, the desire to stop because he was having too difficult of a time with the kicks and that he would rather spend his Saturday mornings playing video games on his DS, he's come to actually be ok with going to karate. He's gotten to a point where not only can he run six laps around the mat without needing to stop, but he does it as soon as he bows onto the mat. I've watched his kicks get regularly higher, his blocks get sharper, and his immediate move to his gear when Sensei says it's time to spar. I've watched him earn each and every stripe, now well on his way to getting his purple belt.
But honestly, one incident above all others have made me proudest, and have shown me that he's learned so much more than just karatefrom Sensei. One day last semester, Teddy told me that a kid in his improv club at school had gone a bit nuts. The kid was throwing chairs, yelling and screaming and, if I remember correctly, starting to get violent with one of the other students. "I thought about stepping in," he told me, "using some of the karate that Sensei has taught me. But then I remembered what Sensei said, that the best way to win a fight was by not getting in it. And I decided that was the best thing to do. Besides, the teacher had it." And that made me realize just how much he was getting. He wanted to step in, and probably could have held his own. But he realized that fighting wasn't the most important thing. It was keeping himself safe. And realizing that the teacher had it.
Both my boys still have a lot left to learn from Sensei. Their black belts are still a few years in the future, I suspect. But they both have learned so much. Both literally and figuratively, they have learned (and are continuing to learn) when to turn their heel and when to kick from where they stand.
I looked up to see the boys' Sensei, Max Scruggs, head toward Teddy as my eldest practiced his back kicks, hook kicks and spinning kicks against the bag. I could see the frustration on Teddy's face as Sensei corrected his stance and moved his back foot into the proper position, but he said not a word. And under Sensei's watchful eye, I watched as he tried again. And again. And again. Not once, even after Sensei continued to correct him, did he let his frustration get out of control.
This wouldn't have been the case three years ago when he started karate under Max. Three years ago, Teddy could barely control his anger and frustration, instead stomping his feet, yelling at me, or throwing a temper tantrum when he didn't get his way. Honestly, it was part of why I wanted him to start learning karate. I'd heard from friends that karate was a good way to gain self-control. I'd heard from other friends that Max's school was the one I should bring him to. For all that I knew I wanted to bring him, it took me a few years before I actually did.
That first Saturday, I remember sitting in the church gym that houses Max's dojo, watching as Teddy took his first steps toward learning Wado Ryu Karate. But more than watching him, I remember talking with Max. He had (and probably still has) a two week trial period. It's as much to make sure that his dojo is a good fit for the person coming as it is to make sure that Max feels the new student will be a good fit for his dojo. He doesn't want kids that just want another sport, another bit of athletics to notch up. He wants the kids that he knows are going to learn, that are going to be WILLING to learn. And he teaches more than karate. He teaches life. He teaches kids to stand up for themselves. He teaches that the best way to win a fight is to avoid one if you can. He teaches that you need to be responsible for your own decisions. And he teaches that, if you don't give up, you can accomplish just about anything. One of the best lessons that he taught me, though, was not to underestimate either of my boys.
That first day, he naturally assumed that Pete would be taking karate as well. After all, his monthly fee was a family fee rather than an individual, so it wouldn't have cost anything more for him to join Teddy on the mat. "Oh, no," I told Max with a chuckle. "I wouldn't subject you to that!" Pete had a difficult time staying still, a difficult time doing tasks that took concentration, and a very difficult time being told what to do. I didn't want Sensei to waste his time with a child that I didn't think would be ready. But Max told me not to worry about it. That Pete would be fine. Just to let him know that he was expected to be on the floor, and that Max would take it from there.
For the first six months, Pete was on the floor, but would spend most of the time twirling in circles on his square. Max let him. He would talk to Pete but he wouldn't push him. Once Pete started to actually focus on lessons, he asked a little more of him. And a little more. And then even more. It was probably a year of Pete being on the floor before he even got his white belt (which required him memorizing the student pledge). Then Sensei started to be a little tougher on him. While Sensei did give him a little lattitude when it came to moving around, he didn't let him fritter away the whole session. Instead, he would send Pete off the floor if he became too disruptive. It was another nine months, with Pete being able to focus a little more each time, before he earned his yellow belt. Then Sensei tackled Pete's temper, sending him off the floor when Pete would stubbornly say he was doing something right when he obviously wasn't, or when his temper tantrums would start. It only took about six months for him to earn his orange belt. And now, he's over half way to earning his blue. He still has his moments, times when Sensei has to lay down the law. But he has far more moments when he beams from Sensei telling him how proud he is that he's come so far, giving him high fives, and helping him razz his big brother whenever he can.
Pete isn't the only one who has come a long way, and isn't the only one I've learned not to underestimate. The same can be said for Teddy. When he started karate, Teddy thought he knew everything. He was, and still is, a smart kid. He learned the student pledge between his first and second sessions. Learning the vocabulary words was always the easiest stripe for him to learn. These things, I knew, would be no problem for him. But I worried, especially after seeing how low his initial kicks were, how winded he got after running one lap around the mat, that he wouldn't be able to be in it for the long haul. I worried that I would have to keep forcing him to go, because once it got hard, he would want to quit. For all that there was a little of that, the desire to stop because he was having too difficult of a time with the kicks and that he would rather spend his Saturday mornings playing video games on his DS, he's come to actually be ok with going to karate. He's gotten to a point where not only can he run six laps around the mat without needing to stop, but he does it as soon as he bows onto the mat. I've watched his kicks get regularly higher, his blocks get sharper, and his immediate move to his gear when Sensei says it's time to spar. I've watched him earn each and every stripe, now well on his way to getting his purple belt.
But honestly, one incident above all others have made me proudest, and have shown me that he's learned so much more than just karatefrom Sensei. One day last semester, Teddy told me that a kid in his improv club at school had gone a bit nuts. The kid was throwing chairs, yelling and screaming and, if I remember correctly, starting to get violent with one of the other students. "I thought about stepping in," he told me, "using some of the karate that Sensei has taught me. But then I remembered what Sensei said, that the best way to win a fight was by not getting in it. And I decided that was the best thing to do. Besides, the teacher had it." And that made me realize just how much he was getting. He wanted to step in, and probably could have held his own. But he realized that fighting wasn't the most important thing. It was keeping himself safe. And realizing that the teacher had it.
Both my boys still have a lot left to learn from Sensei. Their black belts are still a few years in the future, I suspect. But they both have learned so much. Both literally and figuratively, they have learned (and are continuing to learn) when to turn their heel and when to kick from where they stand.