Teaching Kid's Class

Over the course of the past couple months, I have been very involved in running a children’s Aikido class. This includes teaching whenever the sensei is busy or out of town. Class sizes can vary from three to nine students ranging in age from five to thirteen.





Teaching children an art such as Aikido can be very difficult. Unlike other martial arts where the sensei can line children up and instruct them all on a strike or kick, Aikido requires partner-based training and a lot of one-on-one work with each student. I have always enjoyed teaching children, though, for the special challenge it provides. This means you not only must be flexible in your approach to teaching, but creative in your explanations. For example: teaching kotegaishi (a basic wrist bending throw) can be confusing when a younger student has never practiced a martial art before. Words like, “Grab Uke’s left hand with your right and twist toward the floor,” will be met my blank looks. Most five year olds haven’t quite gotten the hang of your right and his left. Saying, “Put both your thumbs on the back of Uke’s hand and make a butterfly (sticking fingers out straight to either side); now wrap the butterfly’s wings together around Uke’s hand,” however, can help kids picture the throw a little differently. The idea is to find a way to express the techniques, keeping in mind that your audience has an attention span of about 10 seconds.


We are very lucky in our class for the diversity of students. Several students are of the Muslim faith and, therefore, have different customs and traditions they must uphold even when in the dojo. For starters—literally—it is against the Muslim faith to bow before anyone other than God. Bowing is an integral part of dojo culture, however, as it shows both respect and humility before the sensei and other students. Even more importantly, bowing is a form of self control and discipline that is especially important to teach.
After much thought and conversations with the parents, we decided upon a compromise that would not only show respect, but also fit in with Japanese customs. When other students bow at the beginning or end of class or when stepping on and off the tatami, the Muslim students put their hands together in “Gasshou”. This is similar to a “praying hands” gesture, but does not hold religious significance within the dojo setting. It is important to understand and transmit to our students that Gasshou, as well as bowing, are symbols of respect and not religion. We maintain these traditions within the dojo because they are a part of the culture of Japan and of the martial art. To lose such symbols would be to lose a part of the art.


When I was first asked to teach the children’s class, I had a couple obvious concerns. I am blind; how will I know what the kids are actually doing? Although adults are respectful enough to pay attention and do what I tell them, children are sometimes less agreeable to instructions. But rather than worry about the possibility of children running wild, I thought about the advantages of my particular situation.
1: This was an opportunity to give the older students some responsibility. I took the student who had been training longest aside before class and explained that I could really use his help; he was a good kid and now it was up to him to help the younger students. During class, I tried to partner newer students with some of the more veteran members of similar ages. It was a chance to not only teach Aikido, but teach members to look after one another.
2: Since I can’t “see” a student as they are learning how to roll or take ukemi (fall) this was a good chance to encourage the students to verbalize and work through their ukemi step by step. In one instance, I asked a student to “teach me” how to roll. This required the student to tell me, piece by piece, how the body should be positioned. This also gave me a chance to see if any important elements of the student’s roll were missing.
3: Finally, this was a good chance to encourage other adult members of the dojo to come in and help. Sure, I’ll play that card… “I could really use the help…” but truthfully, children’s’ classes are normally avoided by adults and this was an opportunity to get some people on the tatami and training.


I was always against having children in the dojo in Japan because they were mixed in with adult classes. This is not the right environment for a child to learn Aikido and can be dangerous besides. On one occasion, a child was on the mat during an Aikido class and not paying attention to anything around him. As my partner—who was likewise oblivious to his surroundings, apparently—through me, I realized just in time that I was headed straight for the kid. I had to take a very painful fall which injured my wrist quite badly. I was not only angry at my partner, but also at the stupidity of having children mixed into an adult class with no special attention.
After teaching and helping to teach over these past two months, I’ve come to see the important difference in how a “children’s’” class is run. It’s a great opportunity to teach kids an awareness of their environment that will hopefully carry over to adulthood. It is also a chance to teach respect, responsibility, and self control. The important difference between these classes in the U.S. and those classes I attended in Japan is that these are children’s’ classes with adults who participate and not adult classes with children who participate.

*editted for correct photo*

The 24th anual International Seminar on Budo Culture

This past March, I was excited to attend the 24th annual International Seminar of Budo Culture. For those of us—shall we say “fascinated”—by the martial arts, this is an opportunity to meet and train with like-minded people from around the world. Every year, the International Budo University, in conjunction with the Nippon Budokan, hosts this seminar on budo culture and practice in Katsuura. From March 9th to the 12th, over a hundred foreigners met in Katsuura for the four day seminar. This year’s topic was the introduction of the martial arts in Japan’s school curriculum.



The International Seminar on Budo Culture is open to foreign residents of Japan who hold at least a shodan in some modern Budo art. Over the course of the four day seminar, participants have the chance to train with some of the world’s leading sensei in their chosen Budo. In addition, participants are encouraged to try styles of Budo they may never have experienced. When not training, participants attend a series of lectures on Budo history and modern practice. Because martial arts will become a requirement in middle school physical education this year, many lectures focused on the values of budo education. Other speakers addressed worries about preserving the principals of budo while teaching such short units in a middle school gymnasium.
For the majority of us, however, the lectures were somewhat counterpoint to our real purpose for attending the seminar: the chance to surround ourselves by other people who have dedicated their lives to the practice of Budo. It is sometimes hard to convey to a non-initiate the importance that Judo, Karate, kendo or one of the other martial arts plays in our lives. At this seminar, though, we all understood one-another.




Having grown up in Michigan, where you can tell the season by the type of hunting friends and family are engaging in, I learned to shoot bow and wander around in the woods with my father from a very young age. I therefore couldn’t pass up the opportunity to try out “Kyudo” or the Japanese style of archery. I was a little curious to see how the Japanese sensei would react to a visually impaired man picking up a bow and asking to shoot, but I was with a good group of friends who I knew wouldn’t even blink. To my great pleasure, the Sensei was delighted to have me.


Kyudo is practiced with the Japanese style of longbow or “yumi”. This bow, typically made from bamboo, is unique for its asymmetric shape. Tall—over two-meters when strung—the bow has two-thirds of its length above the grip and one-third of its length below. The longer, gentler curved top helps for distance when shooting while the shorter, more sharply curved bottom provides for greater power. Japanese arrows or “ya” are likewise bamboo and very long to accommodate the wide draw on the bow. Unlike western bows, in which the arrow rests on top of the grip on the inside between the bow and archer, the ya rests on the archer’s thumb on the outside of the yumi. Even drawing a Japanese longbow is different from a western style bow. A special, hard glove or “yugake” is worn to protect the hand. The first two fingers wrap around the bowstring and tuck into the pocket of the thumb. To release, the two fingers spring open as the hand is pulled back.
Ironically, hitting the target is not as important in Japanese archery as in western archery. Some would say, in fact, that hitting the target is a pleasing side effect of beautiful Kyudo. Kyudo is often linked with Japanese Zen and, therefore, is a meditative art. The aesthetic and focused procedure, correctly breathing, raising and drawing the bow is most fundamental to modern interpretations of this art. So why not give a blind man a bow and arrow?


The Kyudo sensei who taught our introductory seminar was excited to teach me the “way of the bow”. So much so, he asked me to please come again on the following day. I had already signed up for an introductory class on Sumo, however, and could not make it back for a second Kyudo lesson. When I spoke to the Kyudo sensei over breakfast our final morning at the seminar, he expressed disappointment that I did not make it for a second Kyudo lesson. He had, in fact, went and bought a beeper to place on the target so I could aim. I was honestly touched by his sincere and genuine interest in making the art more accessible to me.





As I mentioned above, the reason I could not attend a second Kyudo lesson is the fact I was learning some Sumo. As most people know, Sumo is the quintessential Japanese sport. Though we call it “Sumo wrestling” in English, it is much more a game of momentum and balance than is wrestling. Sumo “wrestlers” seek to unbalance their opponent using their great strength and weight. This is achieved by side-stepping an opponent, by dropping one’s center of gravity below their opponent or by using a technique to gain the upper hand. A sumo wrestler wins a match by pushing his opponent outside the “dohyo” (ring) or by forcing an opponent to touch the ground with something other than the souls of his feet.
In our short, introductory Sumo lesson we were taught some of the basic stretches and exercises Sumo wrestlers perform every day. The famous sumo stomp—called “shiko”—involves balancing on one leg while lifting the other leg sideways as high as possible. This position is then held for several seconds before dropping back to the floor and lifting the opposite leg. Shiko, we were told, is generally performed up to three-hundred times before a sumo practice and another two-hundred times after. Incredibly, we watched two sumo wrestlers perform “matawari”, in which the sumo wrestlers basically did the splits until they were completely seated on the ground and then slowly bent forward to lay their torsos and faces flat.
After stretching and a few other basic technique drills, we each got to enter in the ring with a sumo wrestler. Though the matches only lasted about 10 seconds, it was encredible to feel the sheer power behind the professionals. Not to speak overly much of my personal life here… but that sumo wrestler had the biggest pair of tits I have ever felt…. Ever. Absolutely. Encredible. Disturbing.




In my next entry, I will talk more about the Judo and Aikido training I did while at the budo seminar. There were some great people around, especially for Aikido, and I want to dedicate an entire entry to them.

restling

     Over the years, I have been approached by the parents of several blind children who have asked me my advice on raising a child with a visual impairment.  I have always stressed one theme above all others:

   Get Your Blind Child Involved in Sports

    I sincerely believe that wrestling changed my life more fundamentally than any of the other incredible, once-in-a-lifetime experiences that I have undertaken.  It was a result of the combined influences of my coaches, teammates and even opponents and there is no reason my experience should remain an isolated one.

     There are several reasons for which I emphasize the role of sports in a blind child’s development.  On the most basic level, blind children are frequently over-protected and this, unfortunately, results in a lack of exercise.  Too often, parents would prefer to keep their visually impaired son or daughter safe at home rather than outside running around where they might trip and fall.  A few bumps and bruises--even a broken bone--are important hallmarks of a normal childhood.  Even more important than the exercise, however, is the socialization which sports provide.  While there are clubs and groups, such as Go Ball, for blind children to play with one another, I stress again and again the need for blind children to interact with their sighted peers.  This not only helps to integrate the child into a more realistic world, it exposes sighted children to a different way of life. 

     Yes, a blind player will have a slight disadvantage.  Like it or not, a visual impairment is somewhat of a setback.  The sooner a child is introduced into such situations, though, the sooner they will learn to adapt and find their own solutions to problems of inequality. 

     Wrestling was crucial in my life because it gave me both self-confidence and a strong, supportive team.  The illness I suffered as a child left me very over-weight.  Some of the medicines I had taken included steroids, while the months of hospitalization and bed rest left little room for physical activity.  On top of this, classmates I had known in first and second grade were unsure how to deal with my blindness when I finally returned to my home district.  I felt both ugly and isolated. 

     In my first season on the wrestling team, I lost around 20lbs.  There is nothing so self-affirming for a young man than the loss of weight and toning of muscle.  Furthermore, I now had a hobby, something to do in the evenings besides homework and television. 

     As the season progressed and teammates watched me endure the same strenuous practices as they themselves were, they began to view me less as a person with a disability and more as a fellow wrestler.  This change was both subtle and highly significant, as I had found it very difficult to relate to my classmates.  No one ever asked me to hang out on the weekends my freshman year of high school.  It wasn’t until I joined the wrestling team that I began to go out and spend time with people from school. 

      No discourse on wrestling could be complete without mentioning the important role coaches play in the lives of young athletes.  This was especially acute in my case.  My high school wrestling coach was one of the first people to demand more from me than I believed I could give.  He refused to accept excuses and taught me that I shouldn’t accept them either.  Something I carry with me to this day is my coach’s admonition that people with disabilities have to help themselves because, sometimes, no one else will. 

[This has been a loose translation of my coach’s rough way of speaking; his actual words went more along the lines of, “Nick, life screwed you.  Go do something about it.”] 

      It’s difficult to understand these words out of context.  My coach was speaking to a young man much more timid and self- defeatist than the adult who is now writing this blog.  In a nutshell: I have every bit as much right to play on the monkey-bars as you do.