This is a more thoughtful (I hope) corollary to what I wrote a few days ago.
I am a budo teacher, but also a student. Unlike some art forms where, sooner or later, the artist casts off her apprenticeship and becomes a full-fledged, independent thinker (that's the theory at least), classical budo people are like ballet dancers - no matter how good we get, we still need to train with others, to have more experienced colleagues or teachers looking over our shoulders and kicking our butts. So, whenever I meet a budo teacher who does not have a teacher himself, I do wonder. How do you manage to maintain integrity in your style all by yourself (of course, if you have invented your own style, the point may be moot, but not really, when you think about it).
Anyway -
My teacher, Mr. Otani, was a very generous guy. He did not mind if senior students pursued other budo, especially if that person decided to bring back what she was learning to the dojo. He was also very respectful of other classical budo (if, in his opinion, they were worth respecting, and he thought they mostly were). As I have said previously, if you did not rub his nose in something, he was pecfectly fine with us pursuing other interests.
What I am really talking about here is of course a mixture of trust, loyalty and respect. They are not mutually exclusive, and it is really difficult, if one of these elements does not exist, to maintain the others. Sensei was very open, but he also would not tolerate disrespect - not directed towards himself or other students, or even (moving outward) other dojo, or the planet in general. That did not mean he did not have an opinion, and it also did not mean he did not have a temper - he had both. But in regular day-to-day dealings he had all of these three qualities even as they were laced with an almost brutal insight and honesty into what was actually going on.
What should a student expect of a budo teacher? That s/he should be able to train in a trusting environment. I don't mean that stuff should be soft-pedaled so the person feels "safe" - there is actually no really safe place in a sword dojo - but that the student could feel assured that no one is going to deliberately try to physically hurt or otherwise compromise them in the course of their training. The student should feel a sense of mutual respect, and while "no ego" is an impossible goal, at least there should be a sense of restraint and mutual respect. She should feel that if there is a problem, the teacher is there for her. A student should never be left to the mercy of other students when there is a problem. The student also should be able to trust the teacher such that, whatever is being offered in the curriculum should not just be competently done, but should be offered in such a way that it is in the best interests of the group as a whole.
This last sometimes comes up against people's expectations. Say the curriculum changes. This used to happen to us from time to time. I remember sometimes spending so much time on elementary jodo and kumidachi that we would go months without drawing an actual sword, but no one complained. We did whatever the sempai or Otani Sensei wanted to do (sensei was fond of things like making us practice nukitsuke-noto or chiburi for long periods of time. Frustrating, but necessary). No one complained. We knew that what we were doing was intended to improve our practice. Likewise, while we kept some core curriculum, some other things would come up and then fade away entirely. While someone might put in a request to review an old technique, generally, again, no one would complain.
More recently as a teacher I have noticed students who want to do this, but not that. That's not a dojo - it's a department store (or, if you want a more up-to-date metaphor, a shopping mall). I have come to realize that there is no pleasing these people and that loyalty is basically a nonexistent quality (trust me - I have had some rather searing experience with that lately). Pay your fee and get your training - save yourself time and money and just buy the video, please.
What should a teacher expect of a student? Those three qualities apply here, too. Trust, loyalty and respect. The teacher is not just a dispenser of technique or a reference book - she should have a deep understanding of the curriculum, and the student should be able to trust what he is learning, and also how he is learning it. Classical budo includes much more than technique - aesthetics, morals, and philosophical ideas are imbedded in the best of it, and the teacher should be able to communicate those; but, more importantly, just as the teacher "has the student's back," the teacher should be able to trust the student. Sure, NYC is a candy store of budo, all out there to be sampled, but whatever tempts the student, she should know the teacher's opinion and respect it with regard to outside training. Moreover, just as a good teacher will teach mutual respect in the dojo, those students, when they do go outside, whether to a seminar in dojo's style or elsewhere, should not give her cause for anxiety. A respectful student is welcome everywhere and should reflect well on the teacher.
As one of my prior teachers once put it, "Your students will take more out of you than your children ever will." I do not have children, but otherwise I agree wholeheartedly. I admit to a selfish interest in needing people to train with - even though what I do is 2/3 solo kata, I cannot do this alone. But sometimes the price seems awfully high.
Tuesday, October 23, 2012
Thursday, October 18, 2012
And speaking of "students"...
Well, it finally happened. Someone whose motives for study I found kind of dubious has finally revealed himself.
This person has done me a number of good turns when I was first re-starting out. I was grateful for any help in negotiating my new, non-territory, even when it became apparent to me that he had selfish motivations. Help is still help, whatever the reason, so I tried to do my best for the guy while trying also to do what was best for my particular situation. There were many occasions when we trained together. Other occasions where I offered advice when asked (as usual, on some things that were not training-related, but that is what happens when you are a teacher).
This person wanted to study a specific style of budo which I had been teaching. Unfortunately, teaching that style was one of the major reasons why I got kicked out of my old group. The situation was still very political, and I persisted for several years in training him and a few other people in spite of some very unpleasant circumstances. Eventually, however, I found myself teaching one guy alone, and he was not even the enthusiast I mentioned above. I was renting space for practice, and was losing money month over month. So I stopped.
I stopped, and when I got an opportunity to teach at a different space, the sponsor favored MSR, the more classical style I had originally trained in. By that time, I decided that was a better option for myself as well, though I was still trying to figure out where my former style might fit in. Over the ensuing first year, I reorganized my curriculum.
And who should decide to come back? But he was frustrated that I was not teaching what he wanted to learn. We had several frank discussions, including my offer to meet him halfway - that if we could decide on a mutual time, and he could arrange practice space, I would come and teach. But he never followed up, whether for scheduling reasons or lazy reasons, I do not know. Alternatively, I suggested he practice with one or another of the existing groups (including my former group). I assured him that he had my permission without penalty, and he was welcome to practice with us any time as well (though we were practicing a different style). No dice there either. Then I suggested the parent group dojo, hypothetically (my former style was an offshoot of an older style). I noted it would not be an option for me, because I was beholden to the newer group, but that at his rank, it might be feasible. That hypothetically interested him, but the conversation ended there.
Yesterday I got an angry email from the current soke of my former style (are you still following this? It's like a hiru-mero - a soap opera). The soke said he had "heard" that I was planning a jump to the parent style, and that he would take it as a personal insult if I did. There was only one source for this. The soke had been in NYC this past weekend for a seminar which my erstwhile student had attended. I had decided not to, owing to some family reasons that are not relative to this post. Perhaps I erred in not showing my face, but this particular teacher, over four years, has been fairly indifferent as to whether I should continue to be a student or not. I honestly figured I would not be missed.
After recovering from my WTF moment, I wrote back to the soke and told him a number of things, including that I had no intention of jumping anywhere, and that I was insulted that anyone should make such an assertion. I further stated that my "student" had divulged a private conversation, that doing things like that was an undesirable habit, and that he had moreover misrepresented what I had said. I further outlined my efforts to work with the guy, and how he had been somewhat abusive of my time (i.e., I would arrange practice at a mutually agreed upon time which he would attend, or not - mostly not).
Of course, I have no idea (1) why this person would do such a thing (if our roles were reversed, for example, I would never have done something so stupid to him); or (2) how many other people overheard what he said. If some of my former colleagues were in earshot, then what little smidge of reputation I had left with them has been obliterated. A correction sent to the soke may or may not clear the air with him, but I am positive (in an ironic twist in the age of oversharing) that the content of that email will never be seen or heard of by anyone else.
I even wondered if my (now, assuredly) former student had done me a favor. My relationship to this style and teacher had been ambivalent. By burning the bridge for me, as it were, I could really walk away. But I decided - no. My relationship to the ryuha and soke was mine - mine to decide - whether to stay, walk away, take a break and come back, or whatever. While I can't be sure of his total motivation, I have no doubt it was selfish. He was trying in some way to enhance his rep, and he decided to hurt mine in order to do it. And my overall feeling? He did the same thing my old colleagues did. He used the same tactics and was trying to achieve the same result. And that smarts. It does.
After my last debacle relating to this style, I learned not to put things in writing, even to colleagues involved in the ryuha. Now I know I can't give spoken advice to students, either.
I would like, in some of these posts, to come up with solutions to problems that I have encounted in my budo life, but this time, I am afraid I only have one thing - No good deed goes unpunished.
This person has done me a number of good turns when I was first re-starting out. I was grateful for any help in negotiating my new, non-territory, even when it became apparent to me that he had selfish motivations. Help is still help, whatever the reason, so I tried to do my best for the guy while trying also to do what was best for my particular situation. There were many occasions when we trained together. Other occasions where I offered advice when asked (as usual, on some things that were not training-related, but that is what happens when you are a teacher).
This person wanted to study a specific style of budo which I had been teaching. Unfortunately, teaching that style was one of the major reasons why I got kicked out of my old group. The situation was still very political, and I persisted for several years in training him and a few other people in spite of some very unpleasant circumstances. Eventually, however, I found myself teaching one guy alone, and he was not even the enthusiast I mentioned above. I was renting space for practice, and was losing money month over month. So I stopped.
I stopped, and when I got an opportunity to teach at a different space, the sponsor favored MSR, the more classical style I had originally trained in. By that time, I decided that was a better option for myself as well, though I was still trying to figure out where my former style might fit in. Over the ensuing first year, I reorganized my curriculum.
And who should decide to come back? But he was frustrated that I was not teaching what he wanted to learn. We had several frank discussions, including my offer to meet him halfway - that if we could decide on a mutual time, and he could arrange practice space, I would come and teach. But he never followed up, whether for scheduling reasons or lazy reasons, I do not know. Alternatively, I suggested he practice with one or another of the existing groups (including my former group). I assured him that he had my permission without penalty, and he was welcome to practice with us any time as well (though we were practicing a different style). No dice there either. Then I suggested the parent group dojo, hypothetically (my former style was an offshoot of an older style). I noted it would not be an option for me, because I was beholden to the newer group, but that at his rank, it might be feasible. That hypothetically interested him, but the conversation ended there.
Yesterday I got an angry email from the current soke of my former style (are you still following this? It's like a hiru-mero - a soap opera). The soke said he had "heard" that I was planning a jump to the parent style, and that he would take it as a personal insult if I did. There was only one source for this. The soke had been in NYC this past weekend for a seminar which my erstwhile student had attended. I had decided not to, owing to some family reasons that are not relative to this post. Perhaps I erred in not showing my face, but this particular teacher, over four years, has been fairly indifferent as to whether I should continue to be a student or not. I honestly figured I would not be missed.
After recovering from my WTF moment, I wrote back to the soke and told him a number of things, including that I had no intention of jumping anywhere, and that I was insulted that anyone should make such an assertion. I further stated that my "student" had divulged a private conversation, that doing things like that was an undesirable habit, and that he had moreover misrepresented what I had said. I further outlined my efforts to work with the guy, and how he had been somewhat abusive of my time (i.e., I would arrange practice at a mutually agreed upon time which he would attend, or not - mostly not).
Of course, I have no idea (1) why this person would do such a thing (if our roles were reversed, for example, I would never have done something so stupid to him); or (2) how many other people overheard what he said. If some of my former colleagues were in earshot, then what little smidge of reputation I had left with them has been obliterated. A correction sent to the soke may or may not clear the air with him, but I am positive (in an ironic twist in the age of oversharing) that the content of that email will never be seen or heard of by anyone else.
I even wondered if my (now, assuredly) former student had done me a favor. My relationship to this style and teacher had been ambivalent. By burning the bridge for me, as it were, I could really walk away. But I decided - no. My relationship to the ryuha and soke was mine - mine to decide - whether to stay, walk away, take a break and come back, or whatever. While I can't be sure of his total motivation, I have no doubt it was selfish. He was trying in some way to enhance his rep, and he decided to hurt mine in order to do it. And my overall feeling? He did the same thing my old colleagues did. He used the same tactics and was trying to achieve the same result. And that smarts. It does.
After my last debacle relating to this style, I learned not to put things in writing, even to colleagues involved in the ryuha. Now I know I can't give spoken advice to students, either.
I would like, in some of these posts, to come up with solutions to problems that I have encounted in my budo life, but this time, I am afraid I only have one thing - No good deed goes unpunished.
Monday, October 15, 2012
A student who wants to date other budo
I have a young student - he's 18, quite bright, and very enthusiastic - who has recently started asking me about other forms of budo he might study. He's particularly interested in naginata ("Does he know it's mainly for women?" my Japanese student sniffed.), especially Tendo ryu, the old style that I find pretty interesting myself. This kid has been training with me for a year, and has recently begun to figure out (as some of my other students have) that NYC is a candy bowl of budo - traditional, modern, made-up - and not just from Japan of course, but from all over the world. There is even a school of traditional Western-style swordsmanship in New Jersey which I would love to check out some day when I have time.
Like most naginata dojo, the group he was wondering about teaches and practices mostly Atarashii Naginata - the sport form. However, Atarashii Naginata also has its own kata and kihon practices that people not necessarily interested in sport would find probably worthwhile for a short time. Tendo ryu, when I was able to try it, was offered as a special seminar a few times. In regular dojo practice, it does not figure as prominently in the curriculum. In fact, it is generally done as the enbu part of a tournament from time to time, rather than seriously practiced on its own, which I think is too bad, but there it is.
I tried to answer his questions as well as I could, about the school and who teaches, and what they do, to the best of my current understanding (a number of years have passed since I had any dealings with them. After I got kicked out of my old group, true to any divorce trope, that particular group felt compelled to pick sides and decided to maintain its contact with them, rather than with me). Without going into any detail, I mentioned this part as well. His curiosity was not particularly satisfied, and I suspect that he will make his way there eventually to check out their practice himself.
As a teacher, I have mixed feelings about the American taste for dojo-hopping. I can't blame people, especially here, for their interest. On the other hand, I know teachers who are very offended when a student expresses an interest in other practices (some would even expel a student if they found out). For some, obviously, it's a commercial consideration - potentially losing a student to another style means losing income. For others, it may be pride, ego or even simply tradition.
When I was training, we were told we had to wait at least two years before we could pursue an interest in other budo, and, even at that, it was best to seek permission to look around. I noticed, however, from experience, that even though he would not forbid it, Otani Sensei did not care for students to dojo hop. Among other reasons (besides the obvious one that he might lose a student to what was presumed to be the greener grass on the other side) it suggested the person was not serious about his practice. The times I was able to successfully pursue another style of swordsmanship, it was because I established a study group inside the home dojo with everyone's permission, not supplanting anything that was already there, but adding to it. Sensei thought the dojo should ideally be an academy. I thought that was a great idea myself.
In any case, the worst thing a student could do with Otani Sensei was enthuse about another teacher's style in front of him. Again, being as he was a real gentleman, he would not say much. I remember in particular one senior student expounding on the fabulousness of his kyudo teacher. Sensei listened politely for a moment, but, as the guy would not quit talking, began to quietly remark, "Kyudo - that's for girls. High school girls." The talker did not take the hint, and after a few uncomfortable minutes, the subject changed.
I had to forgive Sensei his somewhat mysogynistic remarks. In Sensei's time, kyudo was promoted primarily as exercise for women because it was less strenuous than, say, judo, or even iai - not that he ever really agreed with the idea, as I am here to attest. He was simply signalling his irritation with the blabbermouth, and perhaps his lack of enthusiasm for kyudo in any case. From that incident, however, I learned to keep any extracurriculars out of the conversation. We all did other stuff, but he did not want to hear about it.
So, coming when it did a few weeks ago, after what were several Classes from Hell (some other blog post will deal with this at some point), my student's questions sounded a lot like a high school boyfriend telling his girlfriend that he wanted to date other people, just to see what else was out there, but it didn't mean that he didn't care.
Disingenuous, yes.
Like most naginata dojo, the group he was wondering about teaches and practices mostly Atarashii Naginata - the sport form. However, Atarashii Naginata also has its own kata and kihon practices that people not necessarily interested in sport would find probably worthwhile for a short time. Tendo ryu, when I was able to try it, was offered as a special seminar a few times. In regular dojo practice, it does not figure as prominently in the curriculum. In fact, it is generally done as the enbu part of a tournament from time to time, rather than seriously practiced on its own, which I think is too bad, but there it is.
I tried to answer his questions as well as I could, about the school and who teaches, and what they do, to the best of my current understanding (a number of years have passed since I had any dealings with them. After I got kicked out of my old group, true to any divorce trope, that particular group felt compelled to pick sides and decided to maintain its contact with them, rather than with me). Without going into any detail, I mentioned this part as well. His curiosity was not particularly satisfied, and I suspect that he will make his way there eventually to check out their practice himself.
As a teacher, I have mixed feelings about the American taste for dojo-hopping. I can't blame people, especially here, for their interest. On the other hand, I know teachers who are very offended when a student expresses an interest in other practices (some would even expel a student if they found out). For some, obviously, it's a commercial consideration - potentially losing a student to another style means losing income. For others, it may be pride, ego or even simply tradition.
When I was training, we were told we had to wait at least two years before we could pursue an interest in other budo, and, even at that, it was best to seek permission to look around. I noticed, however, from experience, that even though he would not forbid it, Otani Sensei did not care for students to dojo hop. Among other reasons (besides the obvious one that he might lose a student to what was presumed to be the greener grass on the other side) it suggested the person was not serious about his practice. The times I was able to successfully pursue another style of swordsmanship, it was because I established a study group inside the home dojo with everyone's permission, not supplanting anything that was already there, but adding to it. Sensei thought the dojo should ideally be an academy. I thought that was a great idea myself.
In any case, the worst thing a student could do with Otani Sensei was enthuse about another teacher's style in front of him. Again, being as he was a real gentleman, he would not say much. I remember in particular one senior student expounding on the fabulousness of his kyudo teacher. Sensei listened politely for a moment, but, as the guy would not quit talking, began to quietly remark, "Kyudo - that's for girls. High school girls." The talker did not take the hint, and after a few uncomfortable minutes, the subject changed.
I had to forgive Sensei his somewhat mysogynistic remarks. In Sensei's time, kyudo was promoted primarily as exercise for women because it was less strenuous than, say, judo, or even iai - not that he ever really agreed with the idea, as I am here to attest. He was simply signalling his irritation with the blabbermouth, and perhaps his lack of enthusiasm for kyudo in any case. From that incident, however, I learned to keep any extracurriculars out of the conversation. We all did other stuff, but he did not want to hear about it.
So, coming when it did a few weeks ago, after what were several Classes from Hell (some other blog post will deal with this at some point), my student's questions sounded a lot like a high school boyfriend telling his girlfriend that he wanted to date other people, just to see what else was out there, but it didn't mean that he didn't care.
Disingenuous, yes.
Monday, October 8, 2012
Sympathy for the prez, or, why the presidential election is like a dojo
By now, much of the dust from last week's first presidential debate (a misnomer, actually, since only one person was a president, but I digress) has settled. While some people gave Obama a thumbs-up on substance, most pundits gave Romney the win on his performance. This has naturally left Obama supporters sputtering about how the GOP candidate lied, prevaricated and flipflopped his way through the debate. At one point Romney even said he was proud of the Massachusetts health care law that he had been backing away from for the past year, and the camera got a reaction from Obama that seemed to express shock - shock - at the backpedalling.
Alas, we have been here before. All I could think of watching the whole thing was - Jimmy Carter. Carter, who did not have a lying bone in his entire body, losing to the glib, polished performance of Ronald Reagan. Reagan (a better actor than I ever gave him credit for) could say anything - and did - and made it sound sincere. His administration also routinely cut people off from social security and medicare in a kind of "rolling blackout" style (people would get legitimately re-enrolled, but it would take another month or two for the re-enrollment to take effect) in order to save money. He also said libraries were not important, because he never had access to one growing up and he got to be president of the US anyway. And, most importantly, he began I think (in modern times at least) the trend that said the civil rights era is over; it's okay to be a rich privileged white guy and stick it to everyone else. Ah.
The reason I am bringing this up is that this week, Obama is trying to come back from his lackluster, if honest, performance and respond to Romney's lies in a way that does not make him sound like a whiner, or a bitter person. To make a comeback while being also presidential. I sympathize with him greatly here, because I have been in a similar, though much less significant, situation, and I didn't do too well.
When I got kicked out of my old practice group, I later realized that the guy who took over had planned my exit for a very long time. It could be seen in an old video from the first teacher visit from Japan (which I had initiated and arranged). I was showing some techniques with the teacher, and the sempai's facial expression was very, very dark. He was not so much paying attention to the technique being shown as that I was the one demonstrating it with the visiting instructor. Things got worse from there - basically a whole campaign of lies and deceit (I say this stuff now somewhat philosophically, since I don't care much at this point - I am trying to make a larger point here). When the situation blew up finally, I knew my nemesis was lying through his teeth to everyone - to the remaining students, to the teacher in Japan - in order to solidify his position. I know some of the stories specifically, and I can guess the rest - I did know him pretty well, after all - and realized eventually that the lies probably started much further back in the past than I had realized, even before I had come to train, which was many, many years ago. But people believe him, owing to the time-worn (and generally true) idea that people don't lie in a dojo. The heck they don't, but Americans especially have bought into the idea that the "way place" has some kind of inherent integrity. A simple look around should convince people otherwise, but it does not.
The more I tried to alleviate the situation, the somehow worse it made me look. It is very hard to call out an injustice, and yes, it made me look whiney and bitter, even though I was right. It convinced no one, and made people uncomfortable. In the first place, no one could believe that I had been badly treated, or that they had been lied to (see above paragraph). And I was seriously no fun to be around, even for me. The final round took place - at last - only recently, with an email exchange with the teacher in Japan, who made it clear that his loyalties now lie with the old sempai, and, while I am welcome to still train, he made it pretty obvious that I will not be given the respect that is due me as the person who introduced him in the US and elsewhere and made all these things happen for him. And since one can't demand respect (or, you can demand it, it just won't do you any good), that is where things have been left.
Unlike Mr. Obama, though, the fate of the nation is not riding on my decision to walk away from this toxic situation at last. I can, and did walk away, because I needed to, and because I could.
For everyone's sake, including the people who don't like him, I hope Mr. Obama is reelected. Hang in there, Mr. President.
Alas, we have been here before. All I could think of watching the whole thing was - Jimmy Carter. Carter, who did not have a lying bone in his entire body, losing to the glib, polished performance of Ronald Reagan. Reagan (a better actor than I ever gave him credit for) could say anything - and did - and made it sound sincere. His administration also routinely cut people off from social security and medicare in a kind of "rolling blackout" style (people would get legitimately re-enrolled, but it would take another month or two for the re-enrollment to take effect) in order to save money. He also said libraries were not important, because he never had access to one growing up and he got to be president of the US anyway. And, most importantly, he began I think (in modern times at least) the trend that said the civil rights era is over; it's okay to be a rich privileged white guy and stick it to everyone else. Ah.
The reason I am bringing this up is that this week, Obama is trying to come back from his lackluster, if honest, performance and respond to Romney's lies in a way that does not make him sound like a whiner, or a bitter person. To make a comeback while being also presidential. I sympathize with him greatly here, because I have been in a similar, though much less significant, situation, and I didn't do too well.
When I got kicked out of my old practice group, I later realized that the guy who took over had planned my exit for a very long time. It could be seen in an old video from the first teacher visit from Japan (which I had initiated and arranged). I was showing some techniques with the teacher, and the sempai's facial expression was very, very dark. He was not so much paying attention to the technique being shown as that I was the one demonstrating it with the visiting instructor. Things got worse from there - basically a whole campaign of lies and deceit (I say this stuff now somewhat philosophically, since I don't care much at this point - I am trying to make a larger point here). When the situation blew up finally, I knew my nemesis was lying through his teeth to everyone - to the remaining students, to the teacher in Japan - in order to solidify his position. I know some of the stories specifically, and I can guess the rest - I did know him pretty well, after all - and realized eventually that the lies probably started much further back in the past than I had realized, even before I had come to train, which was many, many years ago. But people believe him, owing to the time-worn (and generally true) idea that people don't lie in a dojo. The heck they don't, but Americans especially have bought into the idea that the "way place" has some kind of inherent integrity. A simple look around should convince people otherwise, but it does not.
The more I tried to alleviate the situation, the somehow worse it made me look. It is very hard to call out an injustice, and yes, it made me look whiney and bitter, even though I was right. It convinced no one, and made people uncomfortable. In the first place, no one could believe that I had been badly treated, or that they had been lied to (see above paragraph). And I was seriously no fun to be around, even for me. The final round took place - at last - only recently, with an email exchange with the teacher in Japan, who made it clear that his loyalties now lie with the old sempai, and, while I am welcome to still train, he made it pretty obvious that I will not be given the respect that is due me as the person who introduced him in the US and elsewhere and made all these things happen for him. And since one can't demand respect (or, you can demand it, it just won't do you any good), that is where things have been left.
Unlike Mr. Obama, though, the fate of the nation is not riding on my decision to walk away from this toxic situation at last. I can, and did walk away, because I needed to, and because I could.
For everyone's sake, including the people who don't like him, I hope Mr. Obama is reelected. Hang in there, Mr. President.
Friday, October 5, 2012
More on teachers and students
Teachers and students, and what our relationships should be with regard to both roles are part of what it means to be involved in traditional budo. Like a classical dancer, we continue to train all our performing lives (and as lucky budoka, we can go much longer than a ballerina). Even as we gain permission from our teachers to teach, the idea that someone can "look over our shoulder" and suggest improvements in our training is an endless, and beneficial, process.
So, as usual, especially after okeiko, I turn over issues in my mind as I go home, based on what happened in class and whatever else is going on. Last night, I was changing trains, when I ran into one of my old students on the platform. I always liked this guy. He was not particularly ambitious for rank, he enjoyed training, and was kind of a mellow, teddy bear type. When I was kicked out of my old group he was not involved, though, like most of the rest of them, he decided to stay there rather than follow me into the great beyond of No Dojo. But that was the only fault I could ever find with him.
We had a pleasant, brief conversation. He asked me if I was still teaching MSR. I said yes, I was, and he said he thought so because he had seen something about it. Still at the community college? Yes, and elsewhere on Thursdays. He remarked that he had just come from okeiko himself, and that my old sempai had complained that he did not come to class often enough, which was true, since he worked alot. Still, he said, he missed MSR, since "they don't teach it anymore."
"I know," I said.
We chatted a little more, about how he would like to do MSR again, but wanted to stay with his current style as well. I remarked that I had tried to do the same for a little while, but in the end decided to take a different path, mostly for political reasons. I didn't lay it on too thickly; a lot of time has passed, plus I had just had a great practice and, happily, it's really difficult to be negative after a great practice.
Just before his train pulled in, he asked if he could come some time and do some MSR. I told him the community college class was not as much fun as the Thursday class, but, a little taken aback, did not say yes or no. After we parted, I of course started thinking about it.
If this guy came to my class, what would I do? If he, or any of my old students (depending on their role in the coup, though I doubt any of the actual conspirators would make an appearance) came to the community college class, I would probably have to accept them, since it's basically a public class. Unless someone is truly poorly behaved, I don't exactly have a choice. If he came to the Thursday night class, I might be torn - it's a private class, so theoretically I have some discretion, but the sponsor needs to make money, and one of the prime ways he makes it right now is by students coming to my class. Turning away someone otherwise ok to take part would be literally taking rent money away from the sponsor, which I would be loathe to do.
More importantly, if he came to either of my classes, would I be generous enough to refrain from bitter remarks about my exile in Queens, while my old place is still functioning, largely because of the framework I built for it? Or (more likely), refrain from making snide remarks about his current style because of its flash and general impracticality, as compared to what I currently teach? These are some of the thoughts that preoccupied me on the rest of the way home. I was happy to see him, and yet, even though the water has passed 'way under the bridge, he reminded me of a former life that I thought was pretty sincere but which turned out not to be.
I would like to think I would do neither of those things, and simply treat him as a guest student;, someone I already know as opposed to the leagues of weekly strangers coming into the community college movement studio. This has been a very mixed bag, lately, and not totally in a good way, but that's the subject for another post.
As he got on his train, he turned to me and said, "Goodnight, Sensei." That stuck with me for a long time, and it occurred to me he might be the only person left at the old place who still thought that way. Still, I am not sure what I would do. I guess I will wait and see if he ever shows up (which, if history is any guide is unlikely - nothing personal, it's just that people rarely seem to do what they say they will do). Then decide if the "host and guest" metaphor would work in this situation.
So, as usual, especially after okeiko, I turn over issues in my mind as I go home, based on what happened in class and whatever else is going on. Last night, I was changing trains, when I ran into one of my old students on the platform. I always liked this guy. He was not particularly ambitious for rank, he enjoyed training, and was kind of a mellow, teddy bear type. When I was kicked out of my old group he was not involved, though, like most of the rest of them, he decided to stay there rather than follow me into the great beyond of No Dojo. But that was the only fault I could ever find with him.
We had a pleasant, brief conversation. He asked me if I was still teaching MSR. I said yes, I was, and he said he thought so because he had seen something about it. Still at the community college? Yes, and elsewhere on Thursdays. He remarked that he had just come from okeiko himself, and that my old sempai had complained that he did not come to class often enough, which was true, since he worked alot. Still, he said, he missed MSR, since "they don't teach it anymore."
"I know," I said.
We chatted a little more, about how he would like to do MSR again, but wanted to stay with his current style as well. I remarked that I had tried to do the same for a little while, but in the end decided to take a different path, mostly for political reasons. I didn't lay it on too thickly; a lot of time has passed, plus I had just had a great practice and, happily, it's really difficult to be negative after a great practice.
Just before his train pulled in, he asked if he could come some time and do some MSR. I told him the community college class was not as much fun as the Thursday class, but, a little taken aback, did not say yes or no. After we parted, I of course started thinking about it.
If this guy came to my class, what would I do? If he, or any of my old students (depending on their role in the coup, though I doubt any of the actual conspirators would make an appearance) came to the community college class, I would probably have to accept them, since it's basically a public class. Unless someone is truly poorly behaved, I don't exactly have a choice. If he came to the Thursday night class, I might be torn - it's a private class, so theoretically I have some discretion, but the sponsor needs to make money, and one of the prime ways he makes it right now is by students coming to my class. Turning away someone otherwise ok to take part would be literally taking rent money away from the sponsor, which I would be loathe to do.
More importantly, if he came to either of my classes, would I be generous enough to refrain from bitter remarks about my exile in Queens, while my old place is still functioning, largely because of the framework I built for it? Or (more likely), refrain from making snide remarks about his current style because of its flash and general impracticality, as compared to what I currently teach? These are some of the thoughts that preoccupied me on the rest of the way home. I was happy to see him, and yet, even though the water has passed 'way under the bridge, he reminded me of a former life that I thought was pretty sincere but which turned out not to be.
I would like to think I would do neither of those things, and simply treat him as a guest student;, someone I already know as opposed to the leagues of weekly strangers coming into the community college movement studio. This has been a very mixed bag, lately, and not totally in a good way, but that's the subject for another post.
As he got on his train, he turned to me and said, "Goodnight, Sensei." That stuck with me for a long time, and it occurred to me he might be the only person left at the old place who still thought that way. Still, I am not sure what I would do. I guess I will wait and see if he ever shows up (which, if history is any guide is unlikely - nothing personal, it's just that people rarely seem to do what they say they will do). Then decide if the "host and guest" metaphor would work in this situation.
Monday, October 1, 2012
Sempai versus Sensei
This is one of those "eat crow" moments, but the realization below cleared up so much crap for me, I can't really complain.
I had a superb weekend of training a week ago with a jodo sempai. He has trained with the uber-sensei in Japan for nearly 20 years, but at the beginning, he was introduced to the dojo by someone senior to him. That senior subsequently had a falling out with the Japanese teacher, but this guy continued. He said of the man who introduced him, "He was my sempai, but he wasn't my teacher." I thought this was a profound distinction to make and I have been thinking about it ever since.
I used to think that when a traditional teacher retired or died that, as long as the place was well-run and the lines of succession were clear, there should be no problem in a place continuing on, under "new management;" i.e., that the daisempai would succeed and everyone would continue to train as before. I used to think, when I saw dojo fall apart after the death of the founder, that the chaos was a result of ego, overweening ambition, or just poor management. As I collected stories, I found all kinds of nuance. For example, one famous sword dojo in Japan, after the death of the founder, continued, with his widow's permission, to use the dojo space which was part of his home. While students began aligning themselves with one senior student or another, no one wanted to disturb detante by stepping forward as a successor (he did not name one). Instead, the senior students installed the founder's chair at the front of the room to remind everyone of the founder's presence. I did not follow up on this, but, conceivably this arrangement continued until the widow passed away. I doubt it went on much longer than that.
In another case, the named successor was not considered sufficiently competent to continue as the teacher, resulting in a defection of students to someone more qualified, or to someone in a new art form altogether. In yet another case, there were challengers for succession. Factions formed, resulting in this case in a three-way split of a traditional ryuha.
And it's not just budo - there have been stories with traditional dance groups as well, and I am assuming that other traditional Japanese art forms often suffer the same fate. A charismatic teacher (especially, I think, the rapidly vanishing group that trained before the Pacific War) passes on, and things fall apart. They then reconstitute if the style is a strong one, but sometimes in a very different way from how they were before - whether in fragments or branches or in some other dimished state. Eventually, the new situation stabilizes and becomes the "new normal."
I used to think this was a tragedy, and that if only people had communicated more, trained together better, etc. that it did not need to happen. But there it is - a sempai is not a teacher. The sempai who took over my group after my teacher died, in spite of some honorary rankings, was not really qualified to teach much of what he had inherited, though he was canny enough to maintain a connection with a teacher in Japan in the style he preferred, which makes him sort of a study-group leader rather than a teacher. My job, if I had decided to stay, would have been as the de facto teacher, guiding from the rear at best. Maybe, if I had held on long enough, I might have come to inherit the group myself. But it did not work out that way.
But here's the thing - maybe things should fall apart. Maybe a founding teacher dying is the spiritual equivalent of getting kicked out of the nest. The jodo sempai I mentioned above founded his own group and maintained and strengthened his relationship with the original teacher in Japan. As the instructor in my own group, I am in the process of forging new relationships with teachers and colleagues, even as I leave the old connections to my old group, along with my expertise in that particular style, which I no longer teach. And the jodo instructor's remark, along with my experience, suggests this is not a bad thing. A headmasterless style, like SMR or MSR iai should be able to tolerate multiple teachers, as long as people are qualified to teach (and I realize that is the rub). Each of us who become teachers has a tradition to uphold, rather than just one or two individuals. As long as we are consciencious, we should get a long fine, both with our students and with each other.
As I said, it feels weird after four years of soul-searching to figure out that this is probably how things were supposed to turn out anyway, not that I have wasted all that much time. It feels good, finally, to have a chance remark clear up a lot of fog. It's about time.
I had a superb weekend of training a week ago with a jodo sempai. He has trained with the uber-sensei in Japan for nearly 20 years, but at the beginning, he was introduced to the dojo by someone senior to him. That senior subsequently had a falling out with the Japanese teacher, but this guy continued. He said of the man who introduced him, "He was my sempai, but he wasn't my teacher." I thought this was a profound distinction to make and I have been thinking about it ever since.
I used to think that when a traditional teacher retired or died that, as long as the place was well-run and the lines of succession were clear, there should be no problem in a place continuing on, under "new management;" i.e., that the daisempai would succeed and everyone would continue to train as before. I used to think, when I saw dojo fall apart after the death of the founder, that the chaos was a result of ego, overweening ambition, or just poor management. As I collected stories, I found all kinds of nuance. For example, one famous sword dojo in Japan, after the death of the founder, continued, with his widow's permission, to use the dojo space which was part of his home. While students began aligning themselves with one senior student or another, no one wanted to disturb detante by stepping forward as a successor (he did not name one). Instead, the senior students installed the founder's chair at the front of the room to remind everyone of the founder's presence. I did not follow up on this, but, conceivably this arrangement continued until the widow passed away. I doubt it went on much longer than that.
In another case, the named successor was not considered sufficiently competent to continue as the teacher, resulting in a defection of students to someone more qualified, or to someone in a new art form altogether. In yet another case, there were challengers for succession. Factions formed, resulting in this case in a three-way split of a traditional ryuha.
And it's not just budo - there have been stories with traditional dance groups as well, and I am assuming that other traditional Japanese art forms often suffer the same fate. A charismatic teacher (especially, I think, the rapidly vanishing group that trained before the Pacific War) passes on, and things fall apart. They then reconstitute if the style is a strong one, but sometimes in a very different way from how they were before - whether in fragments or branches or in some other dimished state. Eventually, the new situation stabilizes and becomes the "new normal."
I used to think this was a tragedy, and that if only people had communicated more, trained together better, etc. that it did not need to happen. But there it is - a sempai is not a teacher. The sempai who took over my group after my teacher died, in spite of some honorary rankings, was not really qualified to teach much of what he had inherited, though he was canny enough to maintain a connection with a teacher in Japan in the style he preferred, which makes him sort of a study-group leader rather than a teacher. My job, if I had decided to stay, would have been as the de facto teacher, guiding from the rear at best. Maybe, if I had held on long enough, I might have come to inherit the group myself. But it did not work out that way.
But here's the thing - maybe things should fall apart. Maybe a founding teacher dying is the spiritual equivalent of getting kicked out of the nest. The jodo sempai I mentioned above founded his own group and maintained and strengthened his relationship with the original teacher in Japan. As the instructor in my own group, I am in the process of forging new relationships with teachers and colleagues, even as I leave the old connections to my old group, along with my expertise in that particular style, which I no longer teach. And the jodo instructor's remark, along with my experience, suggests this is not a bad thing. A headmasterless style, like SMR or MSR iai should be able to tolerate multiple teachers, as long as people are qualified to teach (and I realize that is the rub). Each of us who become teachers has a tradition to uphold, rather than just one or two individuals. As long as we are consciencious, we should get a long fine, both with our students and with each other.
As I said, it feels weird after four years of soul-searching to figure out that this is probably how things were supposed to turn out anyway, not that I have wasted all that much time. It feels good, finally, to have a chance remark clear up a lot of fog. It's about time.
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