Author: Joelle White

I began training in Karate in June of 2014 after a 27 year hiatus.

More Betterer Part II – The Nitty Gritty

03_Image2Click Here to read Part I

A few weeks ago one of my Internet acquaintances, Mr. James Bullard, was inspired by a mutual online acquaintance (Jackie Bradbury) to think about what it means to be a black belt – most likely he’d read Jackie’s article, “I’m Really a Black Belt!“.

James Bullard wrote a wonderful post on Google+ expressing his thoughts about what it means to be a black belt. I’ll include the last few sentences of his post here…

“I’ve spent over 30 years training in martial arts, and when I look at the huge gulf of things I do not know, it seems the very definition of hubris to consider myself to’ve mastered this art.

Socrates said that admitting one’s ignorance is the beginning of wisdom. If this is true, then perhaps I have BEGUN to acquire wisdom, but I certainly cannot yet call myself wise.

My Journey continues, and I hope that it will continue to do so for the rest of my days.

What about you? What does a black belt (or any rank, for that matter) mean to you??”

I came up with a one-sentence reply to his question. Of course James Bullard proceeded to challenge me to look deeper. That’s what good teachers do, right?

“You’re currently a 7th kyu [author’s note – I’ve since been promoted]. When you envision yourself reaching Shodan level, what does that mean to you? What is it about Shodan White that is different from who and what you are today??”

It took me a few days to fully respond to these two questions via Google+. It took me more time to re-format and polish my thoughts for this blog. The first things that popped into my head were practical – the day to day things that I will have to deal with.

As Shodan, I will have taken our organization’s black belt oath immediately after passing the test and I’ll be held accountable. Really there’s nothing in the oath that I’m not already practicing. I’ve heard it twice now, and black belt testing is only once a year, so I’m pretty fuzzy on the exact details of the oath. There are some moral things mentioned, and one practical thing. I will be required to get permission from the head of our organization in order to teach Karate. I’m sure one of many reasons that restriction is there is to keep new Shodans from “teaching” (read: showing off to) their cousins at the next family gathering. I don’t do that anyway. But I suspect it’s more to show that the head of our organization endorses the newly-minted black belt’s qualifications and recognizes her/his efforts to support whichever dojo s/he cares to tackle.

I plan on at the very least being a co-instructor or a “helper” at the two dojos closest to me. We have three degrees of brown belt before black, and during those years I will be an assistant to at least one Sensei. Once I’m Shodan, if the chief instructor of any given dojo tweaks his elbow or if he has a business trip and can’t make it to class, I will be able to step right in and substitute teach. At Shodan, I will also be one step closer to “inheriting” at least one dojo because I live ten minutes north of one and ten minutes west of another. The current Senseis of those dojos live further away. I applaud them for making the commutes, but if they ever get sick of driving and they think I’m ready, I’ll be willing to serve!

As far as teaching goes I’ll have all the joys, frustrations, triumphs, and tears that go with the territory. I’m pretty sure I have a good map of what this territory is! Due to various circumstances, I’ve recently been given teaching responsibilities at two dojos (yes, at 6th kyu – desperate times call for desperate measures). I home schooled my two children from Pre-K through 10th grade for one and 7th grade for the other. During those years I learned everything I could about how people learn. I have taught third grade Sunday School. Going further back, as a teenager I taught numerous “try one Karate class for free” people and brought many others up to speed to join class, plus helped out in a little kids’ class. Conservative estimate – I taught Karate basics to 75 people by the time I was 18. I’m pretty sure all this life experience plus the “on the job” training I will receive as a brown belt will ensure I’ll be up for teaching 🙂 That said, there’s an aspect of teaching that will likely be new to me as a Shodan. I’ll have to deal with “stuff” from parents and from students. Yep, that goofy kid who needs to wash his gi, the guy who hits on me (and I don’t mean punching), and the helicopter mommy.

Speaking of dealing with stuff, there’s another thing that will probably be new to me too as Shodan. However, it will be nothing new to me as a person who has been involved with various human institutions throughout my life. Namely, there will be friction and politics among my peers and superiors. It’s human nature. It’s present in any office, any church, any sports team. Enough about that – the benefits of being part of the organization far outweigh the pitfalls, and that’s something I will keep in mind as I navigate the new waters I’ll be treading as Shodan.

And yes, I’ll have to deal with “stuff” that is dished out by whatever facility the dojo “inhabits.”  Don’t get me started on that one. I deal with it now mostly because I choose to, partly because everyone in my dojo deals with the “stuff.” I could walk away from arranging for extra time for belt tests, from getting our equipment out of storage, and all the little things I do that put me square in the cross-hairs of the facility’s rifle. But when I’m a black belt and really and truly an instructor, this won’t be an option – it definitely will be my job.

OK, enough negative. I can’t not acknowledge it, but I don’t have to dwell on it. And that will probably be key to my survival when it’s my job to deal with it 🙂

Feel free to burst any bubbles that might need bursting 🙂

Click here to read “More Betterer Part III”

More Betterer Part I – Introduction

Welcome to the first post of 2016!  Please bear with me.  This will get around to Karate, I promise.

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Not at all like this child

One day I was doing my water fitness routine and I moved to shallow water for a particular movement.  The pool has a floating rope thingy to divide the kiddee area from the rest of the pool, and I started in on my reps near that rope.  After a minute or so I noticed a small child swimming underwater from the kiddee area.  Because of the distortions of the water, it was hard to tell her exact size.  It was clear she knew how to swim and had a destination in mind.  She swam under the rope and surfaced.  Something didn’t seem quite right, so before I even consciously thought about it, I was moving towards her.  She turned her body from horizontal to vertical and ducked under the surface.  I fully expected her to swim right back under the rope.  Then it registered on my conscious level (keep in mind I was still moving towards her thanks to my instincts) – that head was not just little, it was tiny.

She came up again sputtering and flailing her arms in the classic, “I’m drowning” sign.  I reached her a heartbeat after she went down a second time.  I fished her out of the water, settling her on my hip in a well-practiced motion.  She weighed next to nothing and couldn’t have been older than two and a half.  She was so young that she was already on to the next thing after her near-drowning, namely, who the heck was this strange lady cooing, “Well, hello!  Whatcha doin’ over here?”  My heart was pounding, but I maintained calm for her sake and the sake of the other little ones playing nearby.

Without an accurate visual reference to this child’s size I initially had trouble evaluating the danger of the situation because that kid was moving very, very well under the water.  She was deliberate in her choice of destination and she went there efficiently and beautifully.  What she lacked was judgment.  She fully expected the bottom of the pool to be firmly under her feet.  She probably didn’t remember or even comprehend her caregiver’s instructions to stay close and not go past the rope.  Even if she did comprehend and remember the instructions, it’s likely she’d have gone past the boundary anyway just because that’s what she wanted to do and who cares about the grownups’ opinions anyway?  I’m not criticizing the kidlet – it’s just that the reality of being only two years old means she was too immature to make good choices or anticipate the possible outcomes of her actions.

So I got to thinking about this and drew some connections.  I’ve seen videos of brilliant young karateka whose katas are really something.  I wouldn’t care to challenge them – I like my body, particularly my joints, to stay whole and healthy.  I can understand why many organizations will award black belts to kids as young as six.  Watching these kids is truly wonderful.  But I also understand why many organizations choose not to award a black belt to children, or designate them as “junior” black belts.

Is my new little acquaintance able to teach her swimming skills to a class of fifteen people aged 2 to 102?  How about if one of her teenage students developed a crush on her, how would she handle that?  What if a goofy adult student asks an awkward question that is best answered with, “I’m not the best person to talk to about this.  Do you have a counselor or psychiatrist you could work with?”  Can this tiny brilliant swimmer handle a student’s parent who is constantly bellowing instructions to the student during class?  And how much pressure can she take to always be practicing, always striving to perfect her swimming technique, and always seeking new knowledge about swimming, nutrition, stretching, complimentary exercises, etc. etc. etc.?  Does this little girl have any good ideas for fundraising to buy new kick boards?  Does she know how to run a business?  Most of all, if she had to use her skills to save her life, could she do so?  I think I’ve already answered that question.

Many organizations maintain there’s more to being a black belt than just technical skills and either award a junior black belt or make the child wait until he or she is a teen or young adult.  My encounter with that tiny mermaid got me thinking about that preference.  In connection with that, I’ve been mulling over what I myself am going to have to develop in order to really and truly be a black belt.  A couple of months or so ago I was challenged by an online acquaintance to think about it.  The next three blog posts will be cleaned-up versions of what I wrote in response to his challenge.

MORE BETTERER PART II

Common Misconception

karate-312474_640He is a 5th degree black belt.  I am at the time of this writing newly promoted to 6th kyu – five tests down and five more tests to go before I’ll be eligible to test for 1st degree black belt (assuming I’m invited to do so).  He’s studied for decades.  I was a day shy of my 18 month anniversary of training.  We faced each other, bowed (as junior I waited for him to come up first), and at his command we leaped into fighting stance.  We sparred.

Did I go to the hospital barely clinging to life?  Nope.  Did I suffer some permanent injury?  Nope.  Slight injury?  Nope.  In fact, sparring with him was a lot of fun.   Yeah I had to work my butt off, yeah I was tested and pushed hard.  But it was fun.

Wait – wasn’t this dangerous?  It was way less dangerous than getting in to my car and driving home after class.

Control is one of many things that are crucial to good sparring.  In other words, how adept is the person at staying away from off-limit target areas (e.g. eyes, crotch) and can that person lightly tap the opponent in valid target areas while still executing good technique?  I have a bit more control than someone who’s been studying only a couple of weeks.  A fifth degree black belt has way more control than me.  That’s not to say that black belts don’t injure each other or their students accidentally.  It’s just they reduce the odds by exercising control.

Accidents do happen.  In fact, one significant milestone for me was getting accidentally knocked to the mats by, yes, someone who significantly outranked me.  That person wasn’t trying to beat me up and felt awful about the whole thing.  I learned I have what it takes to get up and into fighting stance again, and that was huge for me.  All’s well that ends well, but yes – we do play with fire.

I was actually in more danger from someone brand new to the art.  He is young, tall, and struggles mightily to get his arms and legs to do what they’re supposed to do.  He’s been training for about nine weeks now.  Us colored belts had been warned about newbies in general.  As senior student, this guy was my responsibility.  I didn’t know what to expect the first time I sparred with him.  Within moments, I knew his Sensei wasn’t kidding about the danger.  Fists and feet flailing everywhere, hard blocks…  Ow.  I’m sure given some time and some patient tutoring, he’ll learn how to control the force he generates.

BruiseWhich man put a bruise or two on me – the fifth degree black belt or the new white belt?  You should know the answer by now.

We’re not street fighting.  If  we really want to whale on something, we get out the big foam shields and the punching bags.  Us karateka might perpetuate the misconception about sparring by joking around about beating each other up or even referring to sparring as “fighting,” or “a fight.”  We need to be sure that new white belts don’t take this too seriously.

A couple of weeks prior to sparring with the fifth degree black belt, I sought out a brand-new white belt who didn’t have a partner.  She was terrified of me.  Seeing this, I simply gave her a moving target and let her figure out her range.  I know how she feels.  I used to be terrified of the upper ranks, especially black belts.  Seven of them have over time knocked that nonsense out of me.  Maybe.  I have a feeling that at some point I’ll be pushed hard again and I’ll have to overcome fear and find the fun again.

Finding the fun in sparring hasn’t been an easy journey for me, and I’ve written about it loads of times.  I still have to remind myself sometimes to find what I call, “The Fierce Joy.”  And again, I’m thinking at some point in the future I’ll be pushed so hard that I’ll revert right back to where I was.   Maybe I’ll even want to quit.  But I won’t because, after all, we’re not trying to kill each other.

03_Image2And let me tell you, playing with someone who is really, really, really skilled is flippin’ awesome.

Old School

03_Image2One of the Senseis who works with me on a regular basis has told me he would like to see me be more patient when sparring.  I need to either create or wait for opportunities.  Another Sensei put it this way – I’m often so intent on nailing my opponent that I miss the big picture.  I’ve improved some, but there’s still room for more growth.

 

One day, the first Sensei I mentioned called me up to the front of a class to help him illustrate his points about sparring.  I listened to and watched him for cues on what to do.  This is well within my comfort zone and I love helping this way.  It’s a challenge to keep up with the expectations on the fly, and sometimes – surprise!  I end up on the mats twisted up in a pretzel.  All in good fun and for the benefit of us students.  I get to experience the techniques firsthand, which is a good lesson for me in trust, in the importance of control, and in what these movements are supposed to do.

StaringAt one point Sensei backed off a bit and I paused in response, but I maintained my fighting stance.  Sensei finished his point and then said, “Now, in the old, old days – sparring was this,” and he suddenly “froze” in fighting stance, guard up.  Not really frozen as in stiff – more like a coiled spring.  I copied him.  I had no clue what to do next, but during a demonstration, one cues off of Sensei.  After an uncomfortable few seconds of us staring at each other, watching each other for signs of attack, I raised a questioning eyebrow.

BAM!  Next thing I knew, Sensei had covered the distance between us, coming at me like a spring-loaded freight train.

Sensei explained to all of us that in that style of fighting, one waits for a flinch, a submissive lowering of the eyes, a shifting of the gaze in response to a sound in the room, or whatever other cue that shows one’s opponent is vulnerable and/or distracted.  In my case, it was that raised eyebrow.  Yep, I was too busy communicating and wasn’t spending any brain power observing.

About a month later, this Sensei faced off with another black belt for sparring.  Both men went into fighting stance…  And they just waited.  I grinned, recognizing what they were up to.  I don’t know who broke first, but they both exploded at almost the same time.  A heartbeat later the corner judges’ flags went up, so obviously one was faster.

Patience works.  Impatience and haste doesn’t.  I think that’s one of the things I was supposed to learn, and I’m glad I had this firsthand experience with an “old school” method of fighting.

Dog Kiss

150430_MedalBack in October I registered for a tournament in the “intermediate” division.  My Sensei supported my decision, but I had plenty of reasons of my own.  The last major tournament I was in (read about it here ) I had a feeling I would need to move up to intermediate this season.  In the six months since that tournament, I’ve grown in my attitude towards sparring, which has opened the door to growth in skill as well.  I’ve also finished memorizing the Pinan series of kata.  I’d learned the final Pinan kata well enough to challenge myself to perform it in tournament.  No way is that a beginner kata, and I guessed it to be on the high end of novice, low end of intermediate.

This year I’m also in a new age bracket.  The one I’m probably going to be in for the rest of my life.  Ladies 45 and older.  Ouch.  I console myself with the fact that sooner or later a couple of younger buddies of mine will be in my division too.  So a broader age range does give me more competition, but there are still only a few of us.  That means the Ladies 45 and older are broken down into only two groups.  Group one:  Beginner and Novice.  Group two:  Intermediate and Advanced.  Advanced as in all those nice lady black belts I made friends with at a recent seminar.

GULP!

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10th kyu in our style

I really, really, really didn’t want to get a medal for beating up 10th, 9th, and 8th kyus.  So… Yeah.  I opted for the most difficult option.  And I’m really glad I did.  As expected, for kata I was in with a bunch of brown and black belts – yes, those nice lady black belts.  However, for sparring I was lumped in with the younger ladies (35-44) because none of the 45 and older ladies wanted to spar.  I didn’t place in either kata or kumite, but oh well.  I’d much rather have the experiences I had than win medals for easily beating less experienced ladies.  I had adventures I wouldn’t have traded for any shiny chunk of metal.

At this point, dear reader, you’re probably still wondering why this post is titled, “Dog Kiss.”  Ah, this is one of those delightful, unforgettable memories that I will treasure forever.

One of the ladies I competed with in kata is visually impaired.  She has the sweetest Golden Retriever guide dog, who she left ringside with a friend.  I was standing next to the dog when I was called up to do my kata.  Just before I moved to enter the ring, the dog gave my hand a kiss.  I thought that was really terrific.  I went into the ring with a light heart.  I do believe it was the best execution of that kata I’d ever done to that date, probably my best tournament performance ever.  I didn’t place – everyone else outranked me and therefore knew more complicated katas and looked better doing them.  But I learned that the attitude one takes into the ring is vital.

So, on to my kumite (sparring) adventure.  As I said before, I was anxious about all of those lady black belts making mincemeat of me.  I needn’t have worried.

A little background here.  We don’t necessarily know each others’ ranks because in competition we’re assigned to wear either a red belt or a blue belt for both kata and sparring.  That and different styles have different colors for different levels.  In my case, I had absolutely no clue.  Usually tournament officials will, well in advance, inform competitors of any change to the division they’re assigned to.  If they don’t, then usually both the division one signed up for is called to staging along with one’s newly assigned division, one’s name is called in staging and one is informed of the change.  If that doesn’t happen, the competitor is usually called by name to report to staging.  If all else fails, the competitor is called to the ring right before the division begins competing.  There was evidently some snafu in communication, so I was only called ringside and found myself among ladies of the younger age bracket (ages 35-44).  Everyone was wearing either red or blue by then.

When I entered the ring and began teasing out my opponent’s weaknesses, I honestly thought I was sparring someone slightly above my rank.  I landed a beautiful 3-point kick to her head – just mussed her hair.  I didn’t do too shabby with body kicks (2 points) and punches (1 point) either.  Eventually she figured me out and I lost by 2 points.  After the competition was over, I asked her rank.  Brown (not far from black) – and she went on to another round and placed third, so she was no slouch either!  My opponent’s techniques were so beautifully clean and controlled it was actually a pleasure being defeated by her!  There’s no doubt this was my best, most challenging tournament fight and I loved every moment of it.  I found out I’m more capable than I thought.

My adventures weren’t done.  I’ve been working out with the college dojo, helping as needed.  Most of the “kids” take the Karate class for only one quarter, some take two quarters.  A very few stick around for no credit.  These karateka know me from last year.  I’m definitely old enough to be their mother, so I’ve nicknamed myself “Sempai Mommy.”  I was really touched that “my kids” were ringside cheering me on in my sparring match.

01_Graphic1“Sempai Mommy” was done with her competitions by the time the college kids were in staging, so she was loaning her red and blue fist pads and belts out right and left.  My gear was in many more fights than I was!  I somehow was able to watch all the kids’ matches.  One young man was inspired by my three point kick to the head and executed it perfectly himself in his own match.  Another was kicked in the stomach, was down for a long time, then got up to give his opponent what for.  I’m so proud of them!  They all took home shiny medals 🙂

In between and around all this excitement, I made a new friend – a lady black belt who had been in my kata division.  She’s from a different organization and studies a different style.  We had a lot of fun chatting, comparing notes on style, etiquette, etc.   I’m really glad to have met her.

I’m not sure any of these adventures would’ve happened if I’d registered as “Novice.”  I might or might not have made that new friend.  I know I’d have missed the college kids’ fights because I’d have been in the ring at the same time as them.   I wouldn’t have had the best tournament sparring match I’ve had to date or learned I’m more capable than I think I am.   And I certainly wouldn’t have received a dog kiss right before performing my kata.  These unexpected adventures were delightful, and I’m very glad things turned out as they did.  Some things are worth more than a medal 🙂