The Black Belt Curriculum: The Age Gap

“It has been more than half a century since I began teaching. Not only the methods of martial arts instruction, but the world itself has changed drastically and rapidly.  Consequently, I have had to throw out many of my old notes as the teaching methods have evolved greatly from my old days.”

                                   -Grandmaster Jae C. Shin, 2002  

 

We have introduced the fact that there are several qualities that separate the black belt student from the color belt student, and that there is a need to challenge the ideas of the past concerning the “hands off” philosophy of allowing black belt students to develop these qualities on their own.  Before we can move forward to develop a comprehensive curriculum for the black belt student, though, we must first identify the factors that have created the need for this new curriculum, as well as the areas in our current curriculum that fall short in addressing these factors, or are missing altogether.  In short, there are two questions we must address:

1.  Why do we need a new black belt curriculum?

2.  What is missing from our current black belt curriculum? 

Why We Need a New Curriculum: Teaching the Young

                  One reason we need a new curriculum for our black belts is actually relatively obvious.  Over the years, the average age of a martial arts student has decreased dramatically.  Until the early to mid-1980s, teaching martial arts to children was a very uncommon practice.  Even then, at ten to twelve years of age, a child was considered quite young to begin training.  Teaching methodologies were aimed at late teens and young adults, and not at children.  Over the years, instructors worked hard to develop new methods specifically designed for teaching children, and many became quite good at doing so.  Martial Arts Instructors began to realize that by starting at younger ages, they would be able to develop students who had lived their entire lives in the martial arts, and as such would learn and grow along with the curriculum, their skills and knowledge naturally growing with their mental and physical development over the years. This worked out extremely well when the new white belt was as young as ten years old.  In the martial arts schools of today, though, we are seeing new students as young as three.   As we began to accept beginners at younger and younger ages, a mismatch began to take shape between the development of the student and the development of the curriculum itself.

                  Grandmaster Shin, in his latest book, Traditional Tang Soo Do: Volume V: Instructor’s Manual, states the following:

                  “In years past, practice of martial arts was limited to male adults.  As the martial arts spread to countries outside of the Orient, it was acceptable for women and children to train.  As we progress even further, we see that the acceptance of children as young as 3 years old is beneficial both physically and mentally, as long as the program is geared towards their skill and comprehension levels”  (emphasis added)

We are told, in no uncertain terms, that a martial arts curriculum for these very young students must be specifically tailored to them.  Many very skilled instructors have spent years doing so, and have made our current Tiny Tigers and Little Dragons programs into a rousing success that is shared among studios across the world.  However, this program, while a wonderful addition to our overall curriculum, only addresses one end of an unbalanced dynamic created by accepting three year old students.  What it does not do is address the other end of our current curriculum, in which we are confronted by a growing population of eight and nine year old black belts, who may not be truly prepared to take the steps necessary to begin developing the advanced qualities of that rank.  These young black belts need additional stimulation, guidance and direction, or they may find themselves straying from the path.  It is our job as instructors to further develop our teaching methods for not only the young white belt, but for the young black belt as well.

                  Over the years, I have noted that one of the most common complaints of black belts, and in particular young black belts, is that they aren’t learning anything “new”.  This in turn tends to lead to boredom, and in the worst cases, students begin to despair that they will never learn anything new.  I have often challenged these students by telling them that if they aren’t learning anything new that is their fault; there is so much new to learn, and they simply aren’t looking.  This idea perhaps too strongly embraces that old philosophy that a black belt’s journey must be entirely one of self-discovery.  It is important that black belts learn and discover things on their own, yes, but perhaps it isn’t critical that they make every new discovery entirely alone.  This is especially true of our young black belts.  While we do want to encourage leadership skills, maturity, and a certain degree of self-sufficiency in these students, we certainly do not wish to foster a sense of boredom, or worse, hopelessness.  Children of eight and nine years old, even black belt children of this age, inherently seek guidance from those they perceive as role models. If we are able to guide them towards new discoveries and don’t, then perhaps it is our fault if they don’t learn anything new.  Black belts must be encouraged to see their techniques and drills from a different perspective; to analyze things they have been doing for years with a new set of “black belt eyes”, and in so doing, become stimulated to see the “new”, even in what they once thought of as “old.”

                  In addition to the need for additional stimulation, guidance and direction, young black belts also display a need for socialization, and more importantly, a need for social acceptance. In short, they need to feel as if they belong, and if they are given any sense that they do not fit into the group in which they are classified, they will naturally begin to pull away from that group.  If they do not have consistent and stable peer groups present both in their individual classes, as well as within the larger body of the dojang, they will begin to withdraw.  If this is not remedied, withdrawn students will very likely leave in order to seek new social groups in which they feel accepted.  While individual learning can and must continue to take place, our new curriculum must also address the need for socialization by creating new partner and group drills and activities geared towards black belt students.  They must be encouraged not only to interact with one another, but also to push and encourage one another towards new levels of achievement.     Within these group activities, certain roles will naturally begin to form, and some students will begin to take the lead while others will be more content to follow.  While leadership is certainly a trait to be encouraged, true leaders will know when to take a step back in order to help others develop these skills as well.  For students to truly take the bigger step towards understanding, they must actively take part in both roles.  The curriculum must be designed so that all members of the group both lead and follow, for only in this way will they learn to accept both the assets and the faults present in others, and will then help to strengthen one another’s assets while learning to overcome areas of weakness. 

                  While social acceptance from peer groups is a strong motivating factor that will help young black belts continue to train and develop their skills, there is perhaps another guiding factor that is an even stronger force in determining whether or not a young black belt will continue onward on the journey towards mastery: respect.  While it is true that respect is earned and not given, instructors can and should create opportunities for young black belts to earn respect.  Most instructors will allow youth black belts to engage in supervised teaching responsibilities and will give them opportunities to lead their juniors in many activities.  By putting young black belts in these positions of authority and leadership, they can earn the respect of both their peers and their juniors, but this is only one factor that must be addressed.  In addition, a black belt curriculum must put these young black belts into positions in which they can earn respect from those who are traditionally placed above them as well.  As historian and criminologist Don Pinnock says:

“Elaborately, often unconsciously, and with tools, substances and attitudes dating back to the dawn of our species, young people engage in rituals of transformation which have a single goal: adult respect.”

While the preponderance of evidence suggests that this is true, it also suggests that young people in general, and young black belts by extension, do not necessarily understand how to achieve this goal; nor do they truly understand what respect from adults is or how to measure it.  In the end they will create their own methods for achieving this respect, even when those methods actually yield a negative result.  If we want to create a comprehensive curriculum to include young black belts, we must then incorporate ways in which they can earn respect from various groups of adults, both in and out of the dojang.  The curriculum must include opportunities for public service, guided authority in adult groups, and, ultimately, recognition of both efforts and achievements in a way that matters to the youth black belts in question.

The Age Gap: Conclusions

                  After some analysis, we see that there are three main areas in which the age gap between black belts of the past and the black belts of today has caused corresponding gaps in our curriculum:

1.   The need for ongoing stimulation, guidance, and direction: developing “black belt eyes”

2.     The need for socialization and social acceptance from peer groups

3.     The need for respect from juniors and seniors, with a focus on respect from adults

By identifying each of these needs and the gaps in our curriculum which correlate, we can begin to create a specific curriculum designed to fill these gaps.  Before we do this, though, we must ask whether the scope of this design will be too narrow.  After all, these gaps only address a very specific population of black belts, and generally address situations within the dojang, but not without.  As Grandmaster Shin tells us in the opening quote of this post, it is not only martial arts teaching methodologies that have changed over the years, but the larger world as well.  Perhaps by examining this larger world, and the predominant ways in which it has changed, we will find additional areas in which we must modify and update our black belt curriculum, and in so doing, broaden both its scope and overall effect, but that is a post for another day.

Kick. Punch. Easy Stuff.

      

Beginnings...

 

“What the caterpillar calls the end,

the rest of the world calls a butterfly.”

-Lao Tzu

            It is often said in the martial arts world that black belt is the stage at which we really start to learn; that is not the ending of our training, but merely the true beginning.  If this is true, and I must say I agree that it is, then we must ask this fundamental question:

If black belt is only the beginning of our learning, then how, exactly, do we begin to learn?

While this proves to be a difficult question to answer, in either a qualitative or quantitative fashion, it is nonetheless what I will attempt to do over the next few months.  Before we can even begin to answer how we begin to learn at the black belt level, though, we must first ask what it is we are attempting to learn.  What are the qualities of a black belt student that are different from those of the color belt student, and what is a black belt striving to be that a color belt is not?

            Obviously, we could discuss the basic mental, physical, and spiritual development of the martial artist, and determine that a black belt should be a person who trains hard, who studies the history and terminology of his or her given art, and who is of strong character, but the fact is that all of these areas have been developed since white belt.  The training in these areas does not really change, and it certainly does not begin at black belt, so again we must ask, what is beginning, and how does it begin?

           Based upon my experience watching and training alongside countless students and instructors, I fell that I can say with some certainty that one of the qualities of a good black belt is understanding.  A black belt should strive to do more than simply perform the motion of a given technique or skill.  A black belt needs to be able to apply that technique, and must be learning how to do so for a variety of different situations in a dynamic way.  The black belt must display the ability to improvise multiple solutions for a given problem, rather than simply show that he can demonstrate a static drill through rote repetition.  The black belt is moving beyond mere imitation of what the instructors and senior ranking students are doing.   The black belt is in the process of attaining knowledge about why we perform our techniques and drills exactly as we do them, is learning how to use these techniques correctly, and is learning when to use one technique over another.  It is in all of the above areas, then, that a new black belt’s learning begins, and it is in these areas that the instructor must guide and develop his black belts.  To reiterate and consolidate these ideas then, a good black belt curriculum must facilitate the development of three key areas:

1.      Understanding (knowing why techniques work as they do)

2.      Application (knowing how techniques work and can be used)

3.      Improvisation (knowing when to use one technique or application over another)

           While this list of characteristics is meant to illustrate the qualities that the black belt is beginning to explore and develop, it is important to realize that it does not denote a simple step-by-step process, and should not be viewed as one.  As a black belt develops ability in one of these areas, it in turn feeds into another area as well.  A student may start by learning a particular application of a technique, and this in turn can foster both a greater understanding of the art and at the same time trigger certain improvisational skills.  Each of these three areas in turn feeds into the other two, and is not only a circular and cyclical process, but one that can travel in multiple directions at once, and also feed back into itself.  Perhaps the process can be best viewed like this:

                If these are the areas in which true learning begins, where, then, will this new beginning take us?  Is there some inevitable destination to which this process will bring all black belts?  If the black belt does, in fact, go through the process of learning each of the above key areas, then I postulate that yes, there is one destination common to all good black belts: becoming an instructor.  If one truly understands the core concepts of his or her own martial art, can apply those concepts, and can improvise and adapt to diverse situations, then I truly believe that person will naturally develop the desire to see these skills develop in others, and will want to be the one to teach them.  This stems from a natural desire to see the art we love continue, and this can only happen by passing our knowledge on to a new generation of martial artists.  It seems to me, then, that a good black belt curriculum must take teaching into consideration as well.  A black belt who is beginning to display development in each of the three key areas identified above must also be encouraged to develop teaching skills, and must be presented with teaching opportunities.

           Knowing, then, that we must cultivate these areas in our black belts and that in so doing we can be assured that our art will be perpetuated, why do we see a continued trend of black belts who quit their training while only on the beginning steps of this journey?  In the “old days” of martial arts training, we would always have placed the blame squarely on the shoulders of the black belts who quit.  The responsibility for discovery, research, and technical development was theirs alone, and only the occasional nudge from the instructor was expected in order to keep black belt students on the right path.  If they strayed from the path, it was their fault, and it was generally up to them to find their way back.   

           Perhaps, though, it is time to reconsider this philosophy, at least to some degree.  While it often is the case that a black belt quits due to their or limitations, or for their own reasons, it is also true that some portion of the black belts who quit do so because they aren’t learning that which they need to learn.  We must identify the areas in which our curriculum for black belts is deficient, and we must innovate new ways of teaching an ancient art in a modern world, while still preserving the integrity and traditions of our art. We must realize that there are situations we face today that our predecessors did not.  We must determine where and why some of our current practices fail, and change those practices accordingly.  It is not an easy task, but with some thought and some hard work, it is one we can accomplish.

 

Kick. Punch. Easy Stuff. 

 

There is no Karate Season (or, My Goal is NOT Black Belt)

On several occasions now, I have had youth students, and even the occasional parent, ask me, "When is karate over?"   With this question they are not asking me when an individual class ends, or even when tuition comes due again, but rather, they are legitimately asking how long they will be with me, and when in fact their training will come to an end.  The answer, of course is a simple one: Never.  Karate does not end, and martial arts training is, or should be, a life long pursuit.  This answer, though, is often met by wide eyes and an uncomprehending look of disbelief.  "How can something never end?" they seem to wonder.  I am no less shocked by their response than they are by mine, but perhaps I shouldn't be.

To most children today, everything has a set beginning and a set ending: their favorite TV shows, the seasons for their other activities and sports, and even the school year.  There seems to be an unhealthy obsession with reaching some arbitrary point and declaring with satisfaction:  "I did it!  I'm done!"  This attitude misses the most important question though: "What's next?"  By constantly reinforcing the idea that reaching a goal equates with something ending, we do a disservice to everyone. 

I often see martial arts studios in which the slogan "My Goal is Black Belt" is prominently displayed.  Let me be clear: there is nothing wrong with this.  Black Belt is a worthy goal.  It is not the slogan itself that perpetuates the problem.  It is our students' (and their parents') perceptions of this slogan that causes problems.  The perception is, all too often, that "My ONLY goal is black belt."  Many students who reach this goal fail ask and answer the important question: "What's next?"  In so doing, they have decided that their goals are achieved, that they are done, and they choose to quit, in order to find and conquer another goal or pursue a different activity.

Some of the blame, then, does fall on those of us who are instructors.  At some point, we have failed to instill in our students that the true goal of martial arts is an ongoing perfection of oneself: physically, mentally, and spiritually. As true perfection can never be attained, the goal is unreachable, and therefore must be pursued over an entire lifetime. This is hard concept for many students to grasp, though, so instead we place much focus on the attaining of intermediary belt ranks, and, unintentionally, an over-importance on the far too-coveted rank of black belt.  We inadvertently imply that there is an arbitrary finish line; that there is an end in sight to our students' training. If this were the biggest problem, it might not be so hard to address, but the real problem, as I see it, goes even deeper.

By setting our students' sights on the finish line we have constructed for them, we allow them to decide that they can create their own finish lines when things begin to get "too hard."  Make no mistake, at some point most students will decide in their own minds that their training has reached a point at which it is "too hard."  Some of these students will continue to push themselves, work through their problems, and continue forward on their own martial paths.  Some, however, will decide that if one goal can be set as an ending point, then there is no reason why that ending point can't be adjusted to fit their own needs.  They begin to decide that they will stop after reaching red belt, or after brown belt, or orange belt.  After all, they have achieved their goals, so it is fine.  They "did it."  They're done.

Only by establishing our true expectations up front can we expect students to understand our overall message.  We do have intermediate goals, and each of these goals is marked by an advancement in rank.  These goals are intermediate goals, though, and must be reinforced as such.  None of them represents an ending point.  There is no finish line; not even at black belt.  When our students reach black belt, this should be celebrated.  It is a great accomplishment.  It is not an end, though.  Our black belts need to be reminded to look up from their waists and see that others are still running the race.  Are they?

So, as it often does, our subject returns to the beginning.  My expectations are clear. My answers are simple. There is no Karate Season.  Taking extended breaks from training simply because you feel the need to take a break is not "okay" in my eyes.  My goal is not black belt.  It reaches far beyond that intermediate goal.

When does karate end?   Never.
When will I stop training?  Never.
When will I stop asking "What's next?"  Never.

I will almost certainly experience failures along the way.  I will always attempt to make my successes outweigh these failures though, and I will never give up.

How long will I keep it up?  Always.

Why?  Because there is no Karate Season.  All the seasons, all the days, all the weeks, all the months, and all the years of my life will be in some way affected by my martial arts training.  The least I can to is give some of that time right back to my chosen martial art, on a consistent and ongoing basis.

Kick. Punch. Easy Stuff.

The hardest questions to answer...

I'll openly admit it: I'm a geek.  In particular, I'm a sci-fi, fantasy, comic-book and cartoon loving geek.  This is one of the reasons I became a martial artist to begin with, as I really wasn't very athletically inclined or coordinated, but that's a different story. So, being a geek, I'm naturally inclined to take in and enjoy a bit of Star Trek now and again.  So instead of starting right into the preachy and pretentious martial arts stuff, I'll start with a quick summary of one of my favorite Stark Trek scenes, from Star Trek IV, or as it is better known, The One With The Whales.

Love it or hate it, this movie has what I consider to be one of the better scenes in the Star Trek franchise.  While you might not be able to top William Shatner screaming KHAAAAAAAANNNN!!!!! in Star Trek II, this one is still pretty good, and it features none other than Leonard Nimoy as the unforgettable Spock.

In the scene in question Spock is undergoing a rigorous series of questions administered by a computer.  The questions span a myriad of subjects, ranging from science and mathematics to general logic, theory, and even philosophy. Spock is able to answer all with ease, increasing the speed of his answers with every question.  It seems that there is no question too difficult for him, and, in fact, it begins to seem that the computer has difficulty keeping up with his ability to answer.  Finally, though, there is one question that gives him pause:

The computer asks this question repeatedly, but Spock is unable to answer.  He explains to his mother that he doesn't understand the question, that the question itself is illogical, and that it has no purpose or importance. 

For the Star Trek uninitiated, Spock is a Vulcan, a race that has chosen to purge all emotion and feeling in the pursuit of pure logic.  However, Spock is half human as well. For him, this question should have some meaning, but in the early stages of the film, it does not.  The movie is as much about Spock discovering his humanity and finding an answer to this question as it is about transporting a bunch of whales to the future to save all humanity.

Okay, so by now you're probably wondering what this has to do with the martial arts, right?  I have found that while my black belt students are quite often able to readily answer questions regarding Korean terminology and history, dojang protocol, or the philosophy of the belt system, when I ask them how they personally feel about Tang Soo Do, they freeze up, much as Spock did.

My goal is not to produce little robots or computers that can spit out whatever information is put in.  My goal is to create leaders; living, feeling people who have a drive and a desire to better themselves and others, and to pass on the art of Tang Soo Do.  This question should not be a hard one, but all too often it is.  This question, and one other, seem to be the hardest to answer.

That second question seems relatively simple at first glance as well.  Although this question only consists of one word, it is that word which both drives and haunts us: Why?  

Ask a student if he or she wants to be a black belt, or a master, and you will usually get an emphatic positive reply.  I almost always get a resounding chorus of "Yes, Sir!" when I ask this to a group of students. If I ask that same group of students why they want to be black belts, I am met by stark silence.  Perhaps this is a failing in me as a teacher, but I don't believe that's so.

If I try to force my own thoughts or beliefs on someone, I stop being a teacher, and instead take the first steps toward becoming a tyrant.  Do I believe that all my students should love Tang Soo Do, want to make themselves better, faster, and stronger, learn to defend themselves, and have a burning desire to pass this knowledge on to others?  Yes, I do, but I also accept the fact that some people won't feel as strongly as I do about the martial arts.  I do think that they should be able to articulate why they are there and how they feel about what they are doing, though.

I promise: I won't hate you if you have different motivations for training than I do.  I'll respect you for being clear about what your motivations are, and for being able to explain them to me, as I would hope that others respect my own motivations and emotions.  There is no one "correct" answer to these hardest of questions, but there is a correct answer for you.  Strive to find your own answers.

How do you feel about your martial arts training: past, present, and future?

Why are you training?  Why do you continue to do so?

Kick.  Punch.  Easy Stuff.

So, Is This All You Do?

I have to be honest: I really cannot believe how many times this particular question comes up.  While I do realize that the people who ask this question genuinely do not mean any offense by it, I can't help but be a little bit offended nonetheless.  I find myself wondering why it's being asked of me.  Do I somehow not seem competent to do what I do?   Is it, perhaps, that being a martial arts instructor just isn't viewed by the general public as a "real" job?  If that is the case, I have to wonder in this day and age why this bias is perpetuated.

Let's take a look at what, exactly, a martial arts instructor does on a day-to-day basis:

In all seriousness, though, this really isn't that far off.  Some people will say that all a "karate instructor" should do is teach karate.  Well, that is what I do.  In order to accomplish that goal, though, there is so much more that needs to be done.  A certain degree of discipline and order must be maintained in classes, mostly so that no one gets hurt.  The day-to-day dealings of the business side must be dealt with.  Curriculum and various methods of assessment must be developed.  And whether others like it or not, martial arts instructors do get asked for advice by their clientele on a wide range of personal and professional issues.  I always tell people with truly serious problems that there are better qualified people to ask, but I won't hold back my opinion if pressed for it; nor do I think I should have to, if my opinion may be of some help.

At some point or another, I'm fairly certain that I've performed in most of the following capacities:

• Teacher
• Personal Trainer
• Counselor
• Psychologist
• Life Coach
• Administrative Assistant
• CEO
• Accountant
• Drill Sergeant
• Author
• Theoretical Physicist
• Executive VP of Marketing
• Project Manager
• Software Developer
• General "IT Guy"
• Philosopher
• General Contractor

I could go on, but you get the point.  I have noticed, though, that most of the above professionals do not get asked on a regular basis if this is all they do in order to make a living.

Nevertheless, I usually just smile and nod.

Yes, this is "all" I do.

Kick. Punch.  Easy Stuff.

An observation about sparring... and those who would spar.

In the classic The Art of War (or Sun Tzu Bing Fa) the military strategist Sun Tzu says, and I paraphrase for simplicity:

Know yourself and you will win half your battles.
Know your enemy and you will win half your battles.
Know both yourself and your enemy and you will win all of your battles.


It strikes me that there is a problem with the current state of our students and their ability to become truly great at dae ryun.  I use the term dae ryun, because, in all honesty, "sparring" is really a completely inadequate translation for what it is we should be doing, but I digress. The problem I have seen is directly related to the passage above from Sun Tzu.  Serious students today do study fighting (an attempt to know their chosen art), and they study ways in which they feel they can make themselves better fighters (an attempt to know themselves), but it is a rare sight today to find someone who actually studies other fighters. Somewhere along the line, the attempt to "know one's enemy" has been diminished significantly, almost to the point of being lost altogether.

Tournaments are one place where it is easy to see this. The next time you attend a tournament, instead of watching the fighters in the ring, watch the contestants who have not yet fought, and those who have won a match, but still will need to get back in the ring again.  What are they doing?  All too often I see contestants who don't even have their eyes on the match in progress. I see those who immediately start listening to their iPods between matches in order get "psyched up."  I see those that are just sitting idly by, chatting it up with other contestants. I see those that are halfheartedly watching the match in progress, but they most definitely aren't studying it.

To a lesser degree, I see the same thing happening in classes.  Individuals stick to their favorite techniques and combinations, but do not take the time to analyze the reactions to those techniques by their opponents.  Nor do they make the attempt to analyze and identify the favorite techniques and combinations of their opponents.

Once, this level of analysis was common practice, and if someone didn't do it, other fighters looked down on that person as someone who was likely to lose (or at best only win half his fights).  Chuck Norris, who was one of the best tournament fighters of his time, says the following in his book, Against All Odds: My Story:

      "I settled down on the sidelines to watch the other black belts compete. Now that I had become tournament wise, it was a matter of routine for me to study the other competitors. I knew that I might have to confront some of them later on. I watched the way the fighters walked for signs of injury. I observed the way they stretched and warmed up: a kicker warms up with kicks and combinations of kicks, usually working on the one he will use most when under pressure. A fighter with good hand techniques warms up with repetitions and the combinations he favors.
        I studied the losers as well as the winners. The winners were the ones I would probably have to fight. The losers were men I might have to fight in the future. The techniques that fighters implemented, especially the ones with which they scored most often, were my immediate concerns.
       I didn't simply observe the winners and losers. I visualized myself in the ring with whichever man I was watching. I studied his strengths and his weaknesses; I inventoried my own techniques and matched them to his defenses. I visualized myself taking his strengths from him while maintaining my own. If, for example, I could see myself blocking an opponent's powerful side kick and then scoring with my own technique, I knew I would be able to do it when the real match began." 

This kind of in-depth analysis of other fighters, and other students in our own classes, is sorely lacking today, and that is unfortunate, to say the least.

So the next time you engage in the art of dae ryun, don't "just do it".  Don't just act or react.  Try to study.  See if you can create reactions in others. Can you anticipate where they are going to go?  Do you know what techniques they are going to favor?  Are they kickers? Do they prefer to use hands?  Do they like to use the lead hand/leg, or the back?  Are they right or left side dominant?  Do they attack first, or wait for the opportunity to counter?  Do they attack to your strong side or your weak side? Do they attack in straight lines, or attempt to move to the side and attack from an angle? Do they spin often or not?

All of the above attributes, plus others, must be studied and catalogued in our minds, and we must do so for every fighter we encounter, for fighting many different people in exactly the same way is a surefire formula for eventual defeat.  We must go beyond the physical, though, and learn how our opponents react psychologically as well.  Are they easily intimidated, or are they very confident?  Are they, perhaps, overconfident?  How do they react when an opponent shows strength?   How do they react when an opponent shows weakness? Do they always fight the same way, or do they show changes in attitude and personality depending on who they fight?  How should you approach them?  Should you fake a show of weakness and attack when it is unexpected, or simply try to overpower them?   Are they too tricky for your own mental games or are they easily manipulated?

These are the factors that will help you become great at dae ryun.  

Keep in mind, though -

Someone is studying you....so how well do really know yourself?

All things along the martial way come full circle eventually.


Kick. Punch. Easy Stuff.

My Turn.

Recently I read a fairly intuitive piece written by a friend of mine that states:

"In training, we often practice a form of 'my turn - your turn'."

We do this in one steps, exchanging techniques with one another, back and forth.  We do it with our Ho Sin Sul (grappling/releasing self-defense) as well.  To a lesser degree, we even do this in free sparring, often allowing each other a free exchange of various techniques.  My author friend tells us that the one place we really don't see this is in the authentic practice of hyung (forms). He says:

"In hyung training, the objective is 'my turn - my turn - my turn again.' "

I honestly believe that we need to, as serious martial artists, begin to cultivate this attitude more in our training.  This isn't to say that there is no validity in our traditional practice of taking turns.  Obviously, both partners need to be given equal time to train and work on developing their skills.  However, it does seem that this form of training can, all too often, foster a sense of complacency and overconfidence.  This, in turn, leads to ineffective practice at best, and dangerous practice at worst.

I was once part of a weapons self-defense class in which a senior master informed us that we really shouldn't be handing the weapon back to our partner immediately after practicing disarms.  Traditionally, we do this simply because it is now our partner's "turn" to have the weapon.  This creates a serious problem, though, when we apply this practice to real self-defense against a weapon.  For one, it fosters the wrong attitude.  In self-defense against a weapon, the attitude of "MY TURN"  must equate to "MY WEAPON".  By passively handing the weapon back to our partner, we are once again allowing complacency to take hold.  Secondly, we will, when confronted with the need to use our skills, do as we train.  Successfully disarming a knife or gun-wielding attacker is difficult at best.  If you actually suceeded in doing so, would you want to hand that weapon right back to your attacker?  Of course not.  Yet there are abundant tales of trained martial artists and law enforcement professionals doing exactly that in real confrontations.  We definitely need to encourage the "my turn" mentality more in our self-defense training.

There are plenty of great reasons to give another person their chance, their "turn", if you will.  None of these reasons apply in physical altercations, though.  If you have made the choice to attack me, or someone I care about, and I am unable to avoid the physical confrontation, then you don't get a turn.  It's my turn now.  And still my turn.  And my turn again, until you stop or I stop you.  It's really that simple.  Or is it?

Let's say it's a good first step.  In the end, though, if we really want to practice effective self-defense, then we need to instill this same "my turn" attitude in the student playing the part of the attacker.  A real assailant doesn't wait to give you your turn.  If I attack you, and your attempted defense doesn't work, guess what?  It's my turn, and I'll attack you again.  You will have to show the attacker it's your turn, or he'll take it from you.

All of this can be done in a training environment, and it can be done safely.  It's up to us as instructors to determine the best methods for doing so in our own individual studios.  Think about it.  If we never cultivate this attitude in our students, we are actually doing them a disservice, by making them overconfident in a skill set that will not be effective without the right attitude to go with it.

So, in the end, yes, I encourage you to take your turn.  Then take it again.  And maybe one more time.

Kick. Punch.  Easy Stuff.