Author: Joelle White

It’s not unusual for me to lead warm-ups at College Dojo (a community college Physical Education class).  At such times, College Sensei (instructor) might take attendance, get equipment out, consult with people who are sick or injured, or do other tasks he needs to do.  If he finishes quickly, he might then quietly go to the back of the class and follow along with us or warm up on his own.  Other times, College Sensei will take the space in line that I just vacated and he’ll do whatever calisthenics I have the rest of the class doing.  Recently when College Sensei took the sempai (most highly-ranked student) position in the lines and I took his place in front of the class, half my brain was involved in choreographing, leading, and doing the warm-ups.  The other half of my brain was engaged in observing and analyzing.  I noticed things I never noticed before.

During the early weeks of each quarter, the vast majority of the college students taking this Karate physical education class are still not used to acknowledging commands with a loud “Osu!” (in this context it’s the equivalent of “Yes, Sir!”) and they don’t quite know how to echo the Japanese counting of each repetition of the warm-up exercises.  New students need second-quarter students and more highly ranked karateka (those who study Karate) to model these behaviors.  Recently, College Sensei was in “my” spot in line and he was doing an admirably spirited job of modeling dojo (Karate school) etiquette.

I have to admit, hearing College Sensei, one of the more highly ranked karateka in our organization, shouting “Osu!” in response to my commands was, to me, both a little jarring and a tiny bit amusing. Given the vast disparities in rank, experience, knowledge, and ability between him and I it’s like a sergeant giving orders to a general!  I hadn’t really noticed my internal response to this situation before.  Maybe I’ve led warm ups so often that I now can devote some brain power towards internal reflection and observation.

As I listened and observed while sweating along with the class, I started feeling grateful for College Sensei’s spirited modeling of behavior.  I noticed the class growing more confident in responding with “Osu!” More students tried counting in Japanese.  I invest quite a lot into my kohai (students who are more junior in rank) and I’m glad to see them learning.  College Sensei was helping my kohai along, and their positive response helped me be a cheerful and spirited leader.  I really appreciated his support.

Knowing that College Sensei was giving the class a boost made my job as warm-up leader pleasant.  I experienced the positive “glow” of doing something together with a whole bunch of other people.  This is a very real phenomenon – I’m sure doctors can tell you all about the endorphins that are generated and the physiological responses such as lowered blood pressure.  All of this is very healthy for one’s mind and body!  I’m not sure I want to know the physical things that lack of spirit does to one’s mind and body.  All I know is it’s not fun.

Within the dojo and outside the dojo I’ve been both a student and a teacher when students (including me) are dragging a bit.  Nobody’s engaged, nobody’s having fun.  New concepts don’t sink into a brain that’s bogged down.  The instructor starts to wonder why he or she bothered to come to class.  Every class has its “off” days, but these can be turned around if someone takes it on him or herself to support the leader.  This is absolutely the job of the senior student(s) but really, everyone should take responsibility.  Even one person with good spirit makes a world of difference.

I find it interesting that there are lessons to be learned even during warm-up exercises.  Certainly as a student I’ve learned lessons during warm-ups.  When I was a teenager I first learned how to lead warm-ups by simply running through our sensei’s usual routine.  Of course I learned leadership skills and self-confidence even when all I did was run the class through a warm-up routine I’d memorized.  Last year I suddenly found myself in the role of senior student at College Dojo and I’ve gone beyond what I’ve learned as a teen.  I’ve been adjusting my leadership style and developing warm-up routines that work for College Dojo.  I have a feeling this will be an ongoing process.  But now there’s something new in me.  I’m starting to think about the psychological things that are going on not just with me but with the whole class.  I have a deeper appreciation for how my sensei (plural) are supporting me in my own development.  I hope I remember these lessons so one day I can help someone else grow into the role of senior student and, eventually, a sensei.

From time to time I need to be reminded that how we conduct ourselves in the dojo (karate school) is utterly foreign to a lot of people.  There are many people who are good-hearted but at the same time tend to struggle with remembering basic manners.  The more martial aspects (like shouting “osu” and having a hierarchy) will be alien to most.  At least three times per year I am reminded of how new students might view dojo etiquette.  In college dojo we get new students every Fall, Winter, and Spring quarter.  College Dojo is a Physical Education class that students take for credit.  Two quarters are offered, and we occasionally have a student or students audit more quarters just for fun.  So assuming on the first day of the quarter we have College Sensei (instructor), me (almost three years into my training), two second-quarter students and one auditing student…  What might we look like to the new people?

Student A speculates, “Is this some sort of cult?”

Student B wonders, “That’s not how we did things at the dojo I was in when I was a kid.  Which dojo is right?  Which one is wrong?”

Student C overdoes it and does some extra bowing.  Just in case.

Student D inwardly scoffs, “What a bunch of baloney!”

Student E nervously thinks, “All this is really strange and I’m feeling a bit intimidated.”

Student F tells himself,  “I’ll just roll with this and cheerfully do the best I can.”

I’ll bet you can spot my least favorite type of student among the five.  Yep (groan) – Student D.  That said, sometimes it’s that student who will often inspire me to explain things the rest need to learn.  Student F is pleasant to deal with, but if everyone were like Student F, would I remember to explain dojo etiquette?  Maybe not.

So why do we need to think about and teach the reasons why we do what we do?  It’s not just to reassure Students A, C, and E or to give Student B a deeper appreciation for the diverse world of Karate.  We could dissect each rule and discuss its origins and benefits (and that’s a fascinating study for some of us), but what it all boils down to is etiquette benefits everyone.  Etiquette provides a framework for building respect.  This includes respect for those who have learned more, for those who haven’t learned as much, for facilities and equipment, and most of all, respect for one’s very self.  Also, etiquette keeps things running smoothly.  Not only that, simple rules like bowing to Sensei (and Sensei bowing back) paves the way for the future – not only the future Karate career of the student, but also the future of the dojo and/or organization.

As I get more and more involved in helping with various things, I run into more etiquette.  Here are a few examples.  Deferring to the dojo’s Sensei on matters that are not mine to deal with.  How to treat VIPs.  The relational dynamics of sub-groups (such as a fundraising group interacting with the yudansha-kai).  Inter-organizational etiquette.  Working with service providers (recreation centers, catering, special event venues, etc.).  Fortunately I have any number of mentors to help me navigate the trickiest situations.  Those mentors have many more years of experience than I do, so I trust them.  And yes, sometimes the etiquette lessons “sting” a little bit because I’ve crossed a line that I shouldn’t have.  But if I learn my etiquette lessons well, my cooperative and respectful involvement will help the organization run smoothly so we can keep on having fun things like tournaments, seminars, and camps.

Remember these characters?  Id and Super-ego?  Long-time followers of this blog will recognize them from this post and from this post.

Sensei (instructor):  Everybody down.  Push-ups.  Hajime (begin).

Id:  Ugh.  Push ups.

Super Ego: Let’s rock & roll!  We’re getting stronger!

Id:  Aaaaaugh!  Sensei isn’t saying “Yame (stop)!”

Super Ego:  Chill.  Get ‘er done.

Id:  No more strength!

Super Ego:  Modify.  Keep going.  We’ve got this.

Id:  Ohhhkaaay, but I don’t know how much longer…

Super Ego:  Hey, you know what?  We’ve improved since last week – we’re doing more!

Id:  Oh man, seriously – now there’s nothing else left to give!  Ahhhh, sweet floor, how I love you.  Man, it feels good to lie here.

Super Ego:  We’re going to try anyway.  Rrrrrrgh!  Fight it!  Oh, look!  Here comes help.

Id:  That’s not HELP – that’s Sensei!  We’re DOOMED!

Super Ego:  You be quiet – I’m listening to Sensei.  He’s explaining how to do this.  KIIIIIIIIIIIIIAAAAAAIII!  There, see!  There was one more push-up in those muscles.  Sensei said to stand up now.

The sound that came out of me was unlike anything I’ve ever vocalized before.  It was a cathartic roar that came not from my throat but from the gut.  I’ve learned a little bit about vocal techniques from singing, so I know I could have damaged my vocal cords if they’d been tight.  Of course there wasn’t tension in my throat because the cry came from my gut.  Among other things this exercise was meant to teach us how to kiai properly.  But I gained more.

I was charged full of energy and ready to learn.  I usually am able to lock my problems in the locker along with my street clothes, but that day I was still dragging when I came to class.  With that one yell I shed the weight of those problems right off.  Afterwards I was focused, clear-headed and light-hearted.  My attitude had turned around.  I was full of wonder at what I’d just accomplished.  With a little encouragement from Sensei I won a battle with myself (the Id and the Superego).  I’d pushed beyond what I’d thought was a limit.  I admit I was feeling a little proud.

[sound of a record needle scratching]

I hear you asking, “Wait – you felt good afterwards?  Don’t you think your sensei was being mean by making everyone do all those push ups?”

I see you reaching for your phone to call the funny farm.

Sensei wasn’t making me do anything.  I could have walked out, changed back into my street clothes and driven away never to return.  That was totally an option.  I could’ve flopped around in a half-hearted effort and been scolded for it – that was totally an option too.  But I value my training.  I also respect myself and my Sensei.  So my “Superego” overpowered my “Id” and I listened when I was told how to get one last push up done.  Once again, I learned I am capable of more than I think.  It’s a lesson that I need to keep on learning because I am human.

Sometimes in life we face adverse circumstances.  We might think we’ve hit a limit and we’re helpless to do more.  We might be right – there are some circumstances that are too dire for anyone to overcome.  Or…  There might be enough strength left to fight back.  Sometimes we need someone to remind us of that and to help a little.  Our challenge afterward is to pass on what we’ve learned to someone else who needs to hear it.

After class was over I felt more equipped to face my real life challenges.

Interestingly enough, within two days very positive progress was made with those problems that I’d dragged with me to class.  The progress wasn’t due to anything I did – if anything it was the prayers of good people (yes, including Sensei), the grace of God, and a whole bunch of recruiters who called my husband so often that he couldn’t finish taking notes from one conversation before starting another.  But I could’ve done a lot of damage to myself and to my husband in the day before the phone started ringing off the hook.  The positive experience of getting through a physical challenge helped me find that strength.  It turned out that I just needed strength for one more day, one last push.

Do you still think Sensei is mean?  Well, you’re entitled to your opinion, and my Id actually agrees with you.  But my Superego knows better.  My problems aren’t solved yet, but things are looking better.  Even if my family and I end up putting four boxes and the dog into a car and driving off to another city, we will find the strength and courage to face that.  But I have a feeling things won’t come to that.  I think this could very well be the last push up.  I am roaring my battle cry in victory.