In my years as a martial artist, I have come to understand that the giving and receiving of gifts is an important tradition. There are many reasons why gifts are given between martial artists, and that idea could be an entire post unto itself, but there is one type of gift between two martial artists that stands out among the others. This is the gift of a weapon. As I was training tonight, I began going through the various weapons I had on hand, using each one, and I realized that many of them had been gifts. Of the weapons pictured below, I only "paid" for one of them, and that was such a paltry sum in comparison to its actual value that I still consider it to be a gift.
In addition to them being gifts, it should also be noted that each was a gift from one of my seniors. This is important. A gift from a junior is important as well, and should be equally cherished, but a gift you receive from your senior can often hold more meaning than you may initially realize. If I went through additional weapons I do not currently have at the dojang, I could include several more not pictured above, and I appreciate and value each and every one. Why? Because each has meaning, and honestly, I can only touch upon the very surface of that meaning here.
The first meaning of this gift is often thanks. Thank yous come in as many varieties as weapons, but generally a junior is the one giving thanks to his or her senior for the lessons provided. Often juniors may even feel that they never receive thanks from their seniors for what they do, but they are almost universally incorrect in this belief. Seniors genuinely do appreciate what their juniors do, and often even appreciate their appreciation. In other words, seniors appreciate it when their juniors ask them to come to an event in order to teach or share their knowledge. Often this is a situation in which the junior gives a gift to the senior, but at times, the reverse can be true as well. The gift from the senior or mentor could be simply a thank you for the junior's (student's) dedication and willingness to learn as well. It could also be a thank you for being a friend. There are, as I have said, many reasons why a senior may want to thank his or her junior, and giving a gift is one way of doing so. The gift of a weapon, though, conveys more than just simple thanks.
The gift of a weapon signifies trust as well. On one level, it is acknowledgement that the junior has actually made progress and has learned something. In this respect, the gift of the weapon is saying, "Here, I acknowledge your ability. I trust you not to hurt yourself with this." This is a mere acknowledgement of physical ability, though. The senior is also trusting the junior to use the weapon wisely, and to hurt no one else as well. This is recognition of the junior's mental, philosophical, and spiritual development, in addition to the development of physical skills. Finally, it is symbolic of the senior trusting his or her junior to remain loyal to the relationship existing between the two. The gift of a weapon is a direct physical representation of saying "I trust that you will never stab me in the back." In the case of an edged weapon, this is both symbolic and quite literal. Beyond even thanks and trust, the giving of a weapon means still more.
Almost any significant interaction between a junior and a senior in the martial arts, including the giving of a gift, should be viewed by the junior as a lesson. The lesson may even be directly apparent in the type of weapon that is given. The senior recognizes that the junior has enough knowledge to not get hurt, and to not hurt others, but this certainly is not necessarily an acknowledgement of any level of mastery with the weapon in question. After all, Ben Kenobi may have trusted that Luke Skywalker wouldn't cut off his own hand with his father's lightsaber...
...but that doesn't mean he was ready to confront Darth Vader with it, now does it?
Okay, geek references aside, there is a point to be made here. By giving a junior a weapon, the senior is often saying, "I've shown you how to use this without hurting yourself, but you still have a lot to learn. I think you can learn something from using this particular weapon. Now, go and learn, but don't get cocky, or you might get hurt." Some of you caught the Star Wars reference there, too. I know, I couldn't resist. Beyond even the lesson, though, there is more meaning to be found in the gift of a weapon.
More than the thanks, trust, or even the inherent lesson in this gift, there is hope. The senior giving the weapon truly hopes that the junior receiving it will take it and learn, in order to develop something new to share with others. It could be called A New Hope, I guess, but that might be pushing it. Okay, I promise, that's the last one... I think. All joking aside, this hope genuinely exists in many seniors' minds when handing a weapon to a junior, and that hope often blossoms into new knowledge, new instructional methods, and a new curriculum being developed. Granted, these "new" discoveries are often just re-discoveries of something old, but as long as it is new and valuable to the students who are learning from it, the gift has more than served its purpose, and the cycle can start anew.
The gift of a weapon may signify any one of the ideas above, or it may include all of them at once. There may be deep personal connections as well, depending upon the weapon itself, who has owned and trained with it, and the exact circumstances under which it is given. As I said, I can only scratch the surface of its true meaning here. However, I can share one more meaning to this gift. Although it may be in back of our minds, we often do not wish to acknowledge it.
To share this final meaning, I will discuss the gift of the weapon that often holds more symbolic meaning than any other, that of the sword:
In this case, it is the master's sword, given to each master in the World Tang Soo Do Association as a gift from the Grandmaster. This gift contains all of the meanings listed above. It says, "Thank you for your service, loyalty, dedication, and sacrifice." It says, "I trust you, not to hurt yourself, your students, the general public, your peers, your seniors, the Grandmaster, or the Association." It says, "Teach with this, yes, but never stop learning. You may be a master, but you will always be a student as well. Be careful with this, and with all the knowledge you have received, or you will get hurt." It says," I have great hope for you, that you will go forth and develop new ideas to enhance our art and our Association." All of these meanings and more are contained in the seemingly simple act of giving and receiving this blade. I did say there was more, though.
Some of you may notice that this gift says something else as well. Quite literally, on the sheathe, it says, "Death Before Dishonor to World Tang Soo Do Association." The gift at this stage is expected to go both ways. By accepting the sword, the master accepts his or her responsibility to give something back, and to remain honorable throughout life. Symbolically, the master swears an oath upon the sword while the blade is bared, and it is returned to the sheathe before being accepted. The oath always remains, though, as does the blade, even when it cannot be seen. This then is the final meaning. This gift says, "I thank you, I trust you, I promise to teach you, and I have great hope that you will learn and teach as well, but if you turn your back on all of this, I have given you the instrument with which to take responsibility for your dishonor."
In a literal sense, soldiers and warriors of ancient times were expected to take their lives with their own swords when they committed an act of dishonor. Many people believe this to be derived from the practice of hara-kiri, or seppuku, by the samurai of feudal Japan, but the practice can be found in Ancient Rome, various European cultures, is referenced in the Bible, Torah, and Qu'ran, and the concept is probably as old as swords themselves. Today, thankfully, we may not be literally expected to fall on our swords in times of dishonor, but we ARE expected to take personal responsibility for our actions, and to do what is right. The gift of the sword is a reminder that this must ALWAYS be foremost in our minds, and that sometimes, there are no second chances.
So, if a senior ever gives you a weapon, remember to think beyond the simple surface meaning of this action. I thank Masters Vaughn, Kaye, Homschek, and DiMarco, as well as Grandmasters Shin and Beaudoin for the gifts they have given, and I promise to do my best to accept their thanks, to be worthy of their trust, to heed their lessons, to fulfill their hopes for me, and to accept the responsibilty these gifts place upon me.
As an instructor, there are numerous sayings I use in my classes in order to communicate certain concepts to my students, some of which I have no doubt they get tired of hearing. One of these is:
This isn't to say that no technique should ever feel comfortable to the student, or even that a martial artist can't feel comfortable in a certain stance or during a sparring session. All too often, though, comfort on the part of the student equates to complacency or worse yet, laziness. When I looked up the word comfort, the words relief, soothe, console, satisfy, solace, and ease appeared in the various definitions. While it is true that as we learn to defend ourselves, these words do convey a state which we hope to attain, they are not often words we associate with the actual training process itself, and, more importantly, they are not states in which we should attempt to stay for too long.
If we get too comfortable at any point in our training, we become less open to new ideas and concepts, and are likely to have certain negative habits become ingrained. As both students and instructors, we need to fight this. A little comfort is good, but too much of anything will eventually have a negative effect. Too much comfort leads ultimately to complacency, and too much complacency leads to stagnation, which in turn leads to self destructive behaviors. As students, we need to always seek new ideas, new training methods, and new ways of seeing the same "old" techniques. In so doing, we must never forget the "old" ways either, or we are simply cycling back towards becoming too comfortable with the "new". Only when we embrace both will we find that we are actually training in the true "old school" way. As instructors, then, when we find either ourselves or our students becoming too comfortable, we must work to become UNcomfortable instead. If I went into all the various ways to do this, it would be a REALLY long post, and that isn't my intention, so I will instead focus on one method I have used in my own training.
I would be lying if I said I was ever truly comfortable using a staff. It is not my favorite weapon, nor one that I feel I am truly adept at using in comparison to my understanding of various other weapons. With that said, though, I have recognized this deficiency, and have started to spend some more time working with it. This isn't a post on staff technique, though, so I digress. Here are a few of the staves I am currently using in my own training:
It may not be apparent from the photograph, but each of these has very different qualities from the rest. They are made from various different types of wood, including Pine, Canadian Ash, Waxwood, Oak, and others. I also have a staff made of Rattan, and one that is a solid piece of steel, which are not pictured above. Some are tapered, some are not, and one is thicker on one end than it is on the other. All are different thicknesses and weights, and even vary in length. So, including those not pictured, why do I need nine different staves? I don't...I actually think I need more. I actually don't own just one of any type of weapon, and neither should you. If you only train with one weapon, you will eventually get overly comfortable with it, and we know where that leads. Each and every staff moves slightly differently in my hands, and each has different properties that will carry through into a block, strike, parry, or twirl. Some are designed more for speed and others are geared more for brute force. Some are made to use flexibility as an advantage, and others are designed to be rigid. Some are meant more for spearing or thrusting with the ends, while others are better for striking with the edge. Still others attempt to be more balanced in their various properties and characteristics. I won't claim that out of all of these staves I don't have a few favorites, because I do. Part of training is finding what is best suited for you, and this applies to both weapons and individual techniques. These become our favorites, and will inevitably be our "go-to" choices. However, as soon as I become too comfortable using one weapon, I will try to pick up a different one. I have recently tried this with swords as well, and found that by simply changing the length and weight of the blade, I definitely needed to refocus myself and my technique as well.
So, if a student comfortable using a light staff, hand him a heavy one. If another student always uses a heavy staff, give her a lighter one. If your students are rigid in their techniques, give them weapons that flex. Across the board, this idea can be applied: weight, length, shape, thickness, etc. Remember, too, that the staff is merely a tool I am using to illustrate a concept. As soon as students are becoming too comfortable, it is the instructor's job to make them uncomfortable. So, what do we do with the student who seems to be adept with every type of staff? How do I make this student uncomfortable? Simple, give him two staves:
Or, if that's still too comfortable, how about three?
Is this practical for application of the weapon? Probably not. Will it teach students who have become comfortable with how they move their staves new ideas and insights on hand, wrist, and finger dexterity, alignment of the staff relative to the body, and angles of movement? Absolutely.
This particular post may not be popular with my normal audience of traditional martial artists, but I have come to believe it is needed. Traditional martial arts businesses are under assault today by other martial arts businesses, instructors, and schools in what started out as a genuine movement to educate the public, but has instead become a popularity contest of sorts in which one group can puff up their chests and feel superior to the other based on subjective criteria that often have more to do with generalized opinions than actual observed or measurable fact. This movement centers around one of the most common and pervasive pejorative terms in the martial arts world today: "McDojo".
Although I have used this term in the past myself, I have grown to hate it. It seems that in today's world, martial artists believe that anything they do at their own schools is wonderful and awesome, and that anything done at other schools that they don't do themselves automatically makes those other schools McDojos, when this simply isn't the case at all, based on my own personal observation. Please don't misunderstand me. "McDojos" certainly do exist. They may even outnumber quality schools that teach "real" martial arts, though personally I haven't found this to be true. My attempt with this post is to clarify what I believe a McDojo is, and also what I believe a McDojo isn't. Undoubtedly, there will be readers who disagree with my conclusions. That is fine. These are only my opinions based on my own experiences over the last twenty or so years of teaching martial arts. There may even be some who will believe I can't see the qualities of the McDojo because I am running one myself. If that's what you believe, I'll be happy to allow you to do so, because my arguments won't change your mind anyway. All I ask is that you read with an open mind, and if you disagree, feel free to state your case with comments on this page or on our facebook page. If there's anything I support, it is rational, open discussion, while argument for the sake of argument alone will not be accepted. To the point, then:
A McDojo is: A Belt Factory
"Belt Factory" is another widely used pejorative term, but one that I believe holds up under scrutiny, although "Belt Dispensary" may be more accurate. At a McDojo, belts are given rather than earned. If belts are awarded solely because a student shows up to class and pays the testing fee, this is a good sign that you have entered a McDojo. If no student is ever held back from testing "on time", and no student ever fails a test, or if no real test for advancement is given at all, there is a good chance that this location is a McDojo. (Please note that a "test" can come in a number of ways, and while I prefer a formal test day, the lack of one does not automatically mean that students have not been tested.) If there is no established curriculum outlining what each rank should know and should be able to do, you may have a McDojo on your hands. If older curriculum material is dismissed entirely and never practiced again simply to introduce new material for another rank, you may be in a McDojo. If belt ranks seem to exist solely so that the instructor can charge fees without actually increasing knowledge or skill, there is a good possibility that you are visiting a McDojo.
A McDojo is not: A studio with child black belts, or unconventional colored belts.
This one may make me unpopular with the "traditional, "old-school", or "hard core" martial arts crowd, but in this case, I can honestly say I don't care, and often find the accusation itself to be loaded with hypocrisy. Let's start with youth black belts. While it remains unusual, I have allowed students to test for black belt as young as 9 years old. For me, these students have usually trained for 5 - 6 years, 3 times a week, and have demonstrated a high degree of proficiency in all of our association's basic curriculum for colored belts. They have each written an acceptable 1,000 word essay on a topic relating to martial arts and their own lives. They have each passed a minimum of two physical pretests, and have each passed a 100 question written test encompassing the subjects of history, terminology, philosophy, etiquette, application, and theory, and have done so at 80% or higher. They have demonstrated leadership skills in class and the ability to teach basic skills to others. They have, in short, earned the right to wear a black belt at my school, and in my association. This means nothing anywhere else, and shouldn't. (See No, you can't wear your black belt here...probably.)
What insults me is the automatic assumption that a child wearing a black belt is automatically an incompetent martial artist. The exact same people who tell us that "black belt is only the beginning" and that "black belt only means you are good at the basics" will jump on the bandwagon that youth black belts should never be awarded and that the kids who wear them are not "real" martial artists. This is hypocrisy. Your standard may be greater than mine, and that is fine. It may be less, and that may be alright, too. Judge black belts on how they act and what they do, not on how old they are and what they look like. The videos below are just a couple of admittedly unusual examples, but honestly, I'd have a hard time telling these kids that they don't know the basics and aren't ready to "start" their training. Granted, these kids are not American, but they are even younger than the age at which I will begin to award black belts, and do illustrate that one shouldn't make snap judgments regarding ability based on age alone:
Okay then, what about the "unconventional" belt colors? There are studios out there that have adopted striped belts, belts that are half one color and half another, and even camouflage belts. CAMOUFLAGE?? That definitely means it's a McDojo, right? Not necessarily. Again, it comes down to what the belt means, not what it looks like. I personally don't like the "unconventional" belts because of how I think they look, but that's an aesthetic choice, and should have no basis in judging the value of a belt to another martial artist. As long as the belt has meaning and was earned through the demonstration of skills needed to convey that meaning, why should we feel a need to disparage it? In the grand scheme of things, it wasn't really that long ago that yellow, orange, or green belts would have been considered "unconventional", and now they are so normal that we don't even think of calling a studio a McDojo simply because it awards them. Hypocrisy again.
A McDojo is: A place in which money is more important than martial arts.
To some degree, we have already talked about this, but it bears further discussion, as this is a very fine line, which is at times difficult to see, making it hard to determine when it has been crossed. Some practices are very questionable, though. The general rule I give to my students is: If it costs me money, it costs you money. The question we need to ask is whether we are getting what we pay for. Does a studio charge you a high rate just to enroll, without ever taking a class? This may be a warning sign. Are you encouraged, and even pushed, to join "upgrade programs" like the "Black Belt Club" or "Master's Club"? If so, be sure that you are actually getting something in return for what you pay. Are you forced to purchase equipment that you don't actually use? This one is a dead giveaway. Do you always test as long as you pay the fee, even if you are not ready, haven't improved your existing techniques, or haven't learned anything new? This is a problem as well. Is it expressly forbidden that you buy or use equipment from anywhere outside of the studio? If so, don't you need to ask why? Any time you feel that a charge is unjustified, you should be able to question it, and the instructor should be able to give you a reasonable explanation why the charge in question exists. If they can't do so, you need to watch out.
A McDojo is not: A place that charges reasonable fees for the goods and services it offers.
There are still some people (though happily a diminishing number of them) that believe martial arts instructors shouldn't make money from teaching martial arts, and that making a living by teaching martial arts means that the instructor has "sold out." How ridiculous! We don't tell doctors, lawyers, accountants, or teachers that they shouldn't be paid for what they do, so why should it be the case for martial arts instructors? Martial arts studios should charge what the market will bear, and have every right to do so. Let's be fair for a minute. Let's assume that you have the option of attending 3 classes per week at 1 hour per class, and that you pay $100.00 per month to do so. This means you are paying your martial arts instructor an average of $8.33 an hour for what they do. I know babysitters who make more than that! If you are paying less than that, or attend more times per week, you should be happy with the deal you're getting. "Upgrade Programs" are also not automatically the mark of the devil. I have no problem with studios charging more for something if they are actually offering something more. If the upgrade program allows you access to additional training time, curriculum outside of what you would learn in the regular class, or other specific specialized training and benefits, then you can and should pay for it. If all you get is a flashy new patch and a spiffy colored uniform, though, where's your return on investment? Finally, you should expect to pay for equipment that you will use in class. Requiring specific equipment is okay, and should be expected, if you are actually using it. Optional equipment may be offered as well, and this is okay, as long as you understand that it is optional and you choose to buy it anyway.
A McDojo is: A place in which undisciplined children are allowed to run amok. Make no mistake. In the United States, most children who are allowed to run amok will certainly do so. What happens at the martial arts school when they do? Are students disciplined, asked to sit down, or even asked to sit out? Are they told that this kind of behavior is not acceptable? Every studio will have occasional discipline issues and running children. It is how this behavior is handled that lets you know whether or not you have entered a McDojo. At first glance, a studio may seem chaotic, but is this because children are training, or because they are running free, without guidelines or structure? Is discipline enforced, or is it only mentioned and forgotten? Do students have clear expectations of what they are to do before a class starts, or is it "free time" in which they have too many choices unrelated to training?
A McDojo is not: A place that uses fun and games to teach martial arts concepts and skills.
I have adopted a new saying in my youth classes that I have recently started to have students repeat: "We have time for fun. We have no time for nonsense." Teachers that use fun drills and innovative games to teach martial arts concepts should be praised rather than berated. Some martial artists believe that there is no place for games in their class, though. What a shame. Games that teach essential skills such as targeting, reaction time, complex memory recall, awareness, danger avoidance, basic combative strategies, teamwork, etc., can and should be developed for younger students, and should, at times, be required for adults as well. Often the adult students will find out just how hard these "games" really are, and will come to understand the concepts that they teach. These games should have specific rules, goals, and measurable outcomes related to martial arts. They should never completely take the place of traditional techniques and methods, but they do not automatically make a class worthless, either.
A McDojo is: A place that never spars, or never allows students to get hit.
I have, on occasion, had parents tell me that they want their children to enroll in martial arts, but want me to ensure that their child will never get hit or encounter contact. I'm sorry, but I can't do that. Certainly we have graduated levels of contact, and safety remains a priority, but never getting hit in your martial arts journey means you either have absolutely miraculous defensive skills, or you are in a McDojo. I also believe traditional drills are important stepping stones toward learning how to fight, as well as learning how to control oneself in a fight. At the darkest and grittiest level, though, what we are doing is learning how to hurt people while trying not to get hurt ourselves. If we are never exposed to that possibility, our skills are not being developed, and we are doing ourselves a great disservice.
A McDojo is not: A place that uses protective equipment, practices point sparring, or uses traditional methods to teach martial techniques.
Most people would not suggest that NFL players stop wearing protective gear, or that college and grade school levels aren't playing "real" football because they wear helmets. A better analogy might be that no one would expect a SWAT Team or military personnel to infiltrate a hostile area without protective gear. However, there is still a vocal minority that insists one can never learn "real" martial arts without engaging in sparring with no protective equipment. This is, like so many other statements, a ridiculous one. While I don't deny that there is value in occasionally sparring without gear, I don't recommend it to the beginner or intermediate level student. Quality protective sparring gear measurably reduces injury, helps boost the confidence of students sparring, and allows greater impacts to be taken without suffering too greatly. Its benefits far outweigh any perceived liabilities.
Point sparring is not, in and of itself, a bad thing. It teaches us how to control techniques to near pinpoint accuracy, develops speed, focus, and coordination, and creates a positive outlet without automatically generating fear of injury. What it does not do, is reveal who the best "fighter" is, although to me the best fighter is the one who never has to fight. Philosophy aside, ANY method of sparring, from point sparring, to boxing, to judo, to MMA, that establishes a set of rules, is automatically artificial. Certainly some of these are closer to "real" than others. I never said we should only practice point sparring; merely that its presence is not an automatic indicator of a McDojo. Within the confines of the studio, though, we can only ever approach reality. We cannot actually duplicate it.
Finally, traditional methods like forms practice, one-steps , and board breaking have come under assault in recent years. I will simple say this: I believe that those who find these practices "worthless" never understood the reason why we do them to begin with, and probably never will. Nothing I can say will change that, so I won't even try right now. I do feel the need to say this, though: anyone who believes "boards don't hit back" has never really trained at breaking boards. They hit back- believe it.
A McDojo is: A place in which the instructor claims very high rank, or multiple ranks, without being able to back up those claims.
This one is pretty straightforward. If someone claims to be a 9th Dan black belt in multiple styles and has done this in 5 years (yes, a ridiculous over exaggeration, but it helps make the point) and can't tell you where he got those ranks or how he acquired such great skill, you have a problem. If someone has "created" the style he or she teaches, at least ask why and how it was created. Maybe it has real value and maybe it doesn't. The student should be the judge of that. Questions that should be readily answered by instructors in order to avoid McDojos include:
"How long have you trained in the martial arts?"
"Where did you start your own training?"
"Who awarded you your rank/ how did you earn your rank?"
"What does your rank mean? What was required of you to earn it?"
"What are the main characteristics of the style you teach?"
"Where did your style come from? What other style is it similar to?"
There are more, and some of these will only have meaning in the right context, but this is at least a start for the uninitiated.
A McDojo is not: A place in which the instructor has very high rank, or multiple ranks, and can back it up.
Again, people often make judgments too soon without knowing the whole truth. I know a number of high-ranking martial artists who hold rank in multiple arts and have legitimately earned those ranks, while still teaching classes every day. These people can satisfactorily answer all of the questions above and then some, and will gladly share their knowledge and skills with you if you become a student. As we have said before, it is an understanding of what the rank in question means, and what the instructor can teach and do that is important, not the number of stripes on his or her belt or the number written on his or her business card.
A McDojo is: A place of lowered standards.
If you can't identify this one for yourself, do yourself a favor and conduct some research. Compare what you see at different martial arts studios. Hop on Youtube and compare videos of different styles, organizations, and schools. Get on the web and google terms like McDojo, martial arts standards, martial arts curriculum, etc, and decide what standards you accept and the level to which you refuse to lower yourself. Only you can decide.
A McDojo is not: A place that has standards you don't happen to agree with.
If a studio has defined standards for advancement, you may find them to be below your own personal bar or above it. This does not make that location a McDojo. You must be honest with yourself when you choose to use this label, and identify everything that you find "wrong" or "unacceptable." You must then decide whether these things are truly present or merely perceived. Only then will you know if you are in a "McDojo."
There are any number of categories that could be added to this list, and there are no doubt readers who do not agree with what I have written. My true aim here is to be honest with myself and realize that I have, at times, felt superior to other martial arts schools, and have, at other times, felt inferior as well. As long as I strive to better myself and my students, hold strong to my own ideals, and teach what I believe to be right, effective, and "real", then I am not running a McDojo, whether anyone else thinks so or not. While no one ever has told me I am running a McDojo, I can feel comfortable defending myself if anyone ever does.
