Writers are storytellers. I am no exception. Even though I am not happy to revisit this episode, the nine or so followers among the readers of this blog might like to know how the story of the New Guy ended.
The following jodo okeiko was huge, at least in our terms. All of the upper level people were there, and the New Guy sort of faded into the mix. Good, I thought. Maybe he was just nervous and is now finding his groove. Fine.
Or not. The following week found only three of us again, and again he could not keep his mouth shut. When I explained a slight difference in bunkai that differed from how he had been given to understand it (or how he thought he understood it), he rolled his eyes in exasperation. He was also incorrect in his assumption for why his way of doing the kata was somehow "better." I am the first person to admit my limited knowledge of jodo but I do know what I know. I am pretty good at learning things and above everything else, I trust my teachers and sempai. The sempai, to be honest, may miss on occasion, but never in a way that would seriously mislead. And I train with some of the top teachers on the planet. I decided to have a chat with him at the next okeiko - either shut up and get with the program or find some other group to train with.
In the interim I considered how I should talk to him. Ordinarily one would settle differences outside the room. That was the approach I decided to take. However, the next okeiko was also small, and again, he began "correcting" the student who was training with us. We blew him off until after the closing reishiki, at which point I began to tell him, in front of the other (by this time, very affronted) student, that we were studying a particular tradition of jodo. I was going to say that it may be slightly at odds with his experience, etc., but that he should get with the program if he wanted to continue, etc., but I did not get that far. No sooner did I get the above 1/2 sentence out then he went completely off. He began shouting at me. Among other things, he shouted that he was NOT trying to "take over the class," but "when I see a mistake, I'm going to correct it. After all, I've been doing this for a long time."
"So. Have. I." I hissed. Meanwhile thinking, oh buddy, you are so out of here...
He stormed out. Afterwards, my student remarked that he was unlikely to come back. I said, "You know what? I'm going to make sure." The next day, I fired off a short email to the sponsor (who is, by the way, also a student). I told him, briefly, what happened, and said, very clearly, that even though he was the sponsor I was only telling him the New Guy was not welcome and that I was not interested in his opinion. Budo training needs to be extremely polite or else things become very dangerous very quickly. I had always reserved the right to not teach someone I thought was unsuitable. We needed to get in touch with him and tell him.
To my complete surprise, the sponsor went completely "bro" on me (sorry, guys, but I'm not sure how else to put it). He said, "He didn't seem that bad to me."
I believe people near me when I read that saw the steam jetting out of my ears. I AM THIS GUY'S TEACHER, AND HE'S GOING TO ARGUE WITH ME. I understood that, as the sponsor, he was unhappy losing an additional class fee, but he totally forgot that he was also a student and his only proper response would be to trust my judgment and agree, even if reluctantly.
Incredibly, an email exchange between myself, my student/sponsor, and eventually a jodo sempai whom I brought in to back me up (not that I ever, ever should have needed him) went on all day. Finally, the sempai, who knew the New Guy's previous teacher, agreed to contact him to see if we could find out anything further about the New Guy's history. But here's the thing: I know from experience (see the first post on this subject) that violent, rude, abusive people are only that way with those whom they consider targets. With virtually everyone else, they can be perfectly well-behaved. "I don't care if this guy was a prince with his old teacher," I said. "He goes. That's it."
The effects of a rude, impolite student go beyond just aggravating the instructor. Two of the offended students were already making excuses for why they could not come, or could not stay, for jodo okeiko. If the sponsor thought he was going to lose one class fee for bouncing someone who was not appropriate, he was going to find out that losing an entire class would be a lot more fiscally painful. And the disintegration can come about very quickly. I needed to resolve this right away.
The response from the previous (or, as the person himself put it FORMER) teacher, was swift. The New Guy was so unsuitable, he had actually forbidden him to come to his okeiko. "Please extend my apologies to [the instructor]," he wrote, expressing some serious mortification. Vindication; though, as I said, it should not have been necessary at all.
Naturally, I was the one who had to let New Guy know he should look for another class. Maybe he has found one. I don't know. But, if previous experience is any guide, I tend to keep looking over my shoulder. He would not be the first person to come after me to personally express his frustration, let's say. And his former teacher mentioned his persistence. So I am careful not to leave the dojo by myself after okeiko, for now. The two students whom he let loose on were grateful to see him gone, and are back in class. Aside from questioning myself regarding the wisdom of having a sponsor, I have decided to let the issue go for now, since (I hope) it has been taken care of.
I have met many wonderful people, mostly gentlemen, given the one-sided nature of budo in the U.S., and many more excellent people in Japan through my practice. Unfortunately, there are some bad students out there, no matter where, and it is the responsibility of instructors to keep them out of their dojo. They owe it to their students as well as to themselves.
Wednesday, September 30, 2015
Friday, September 11, 2015
The bigots among us
Over the past year or so, I've unfriended FBers who expressed sexist, racist or homophobic opinions. Being aware that some pundits suggest we are limiting our exposure to others' opinions, I have done my best to be tolerant; but, eventually, inevitably, someone posts something that sets me off and - - I delete them from my feed, I hope forever.
The most recent unfriending took place this week when a sometime student who had sent me a friend request a few months ago put up an egregiously homophobic comment. I actually liked this guy - he was a lay minister and a teacher at a charter school who was very into the idea of empowering less-advantaged children. But, like any number of "conservative Christians" (as we call them), he considers homosexuality an abomination. After I unfriended him, I told the sponsor we should take him off of our dojo discussion group, both for the remark and the fact that after a few months he had stopped coming to okeiko anyway. My sponsor agreed (without an argument, for a change), especially after he saw the post. (News flash - not all budoka are straight.)
People's social opinions are no longer private. FB and related media are treated like people's living rooms, where they seem to feel comfortable expressing opinions and ideas that once were confined to personal discourse among family and real, not virtual friends. As a kid, I was aghast (along with much of the country) at the sitcom "All in the Family" for its very revealing Archie Bunker character - the casual working-class bigot who said exactly what he thought. The show started a national conversation about who Americans were, or thought they were - one of the few times a tv show had provoked such a reaction. As the series went on, Archie found out that people not like him are not so different in attitude (including that his black neighbor did not trust white people any more than Archie trusted blacks). Ultimately, his social views began to evolve. (I once heard that the actor who played him convinced the creators of the show that Archie should be portrayed as being more complex, which he ultimately was).
The thing that really bothers me is that the people I have been unfriending are fellow budoka, because that's what my FB list mostly consists of (along with family members and the occasional old high schoolmate). And it has set me to thinking: as budo teachers, do we have ethical responsibilities when it comes to deciding who we teach, or who we consider colleagues?
This is not a new topic. About 10 years ago, a group of budoka had a yearly forum at which they presented papers that addressed issues of sexism and other ethical topics as they related to their practice. One guy presented on a teacher who used his position of authority to sexually abuse a female student (he was caught, convicted and sent to jail for a few years). In another story, an aikidoka recommended a friend to his teacher, in spite of having an "edgy" temper. A few months later the guy disappeared. Upon inquiry, the aikidoka found out the guy had been arrested for using his newly acquired skills to put his wife in the hospital. The teacher was mortified, and the aikidoka was upset that he had recommended him, but until his arrest, he had no idea the person was violent or abusive.
In my own practice, I once refused to teach a guy who was mentally at least - if not also physically - abusing his girlfriend. My sempai at the time was irritated with me, because he noted that everyone involved was "an adult," and their private behavior was not my problem. I responded that the girlfriend was a victim and I was not going to teach someone capable of behaving in that way. (He was also disrespectful to me personally for Teaching While Female. Eventually, he and the sempai had a falling out and the issue became moot in any case.)
Koryu budo is a small world - I recently attended a seminar that was also attended by an "unfriend" who had expressed an obviously racist point of view, prompting me to delete him from my feed. I mentioned the episode to a few of the other people I was training with. The person is a disciplined budoka who is quite good at what he does; and, outside of a certain arrogance, is not a bad training partner either. But it's hard for me to have any kind of even casual relationship with him, knowing what I know. At the same time, I was not sure it was the right thing to "out" him to a couple of my colleagues. The sempai leading the seminar noted that he did not want to have a political discussion with him, but otherwise was ok teaching him. I am not. At the seminar, I was cordial and kept my distance.
My sponsor has said it's not his business to consider potential customers' points of view; even though, as a minority himself, he is not comfortable with racist remarks. I'm not comfortable either, and would prefer that any bigots lurking among my FB friends keep their opinions to themselves. But, unfortunately, the political discourse has recently made it okay for people to express their distrust of anyone not like themselves. Naively, they assume that their FB feed consists of users who think similarly. They now have one less "friend" who disagrees with them.
The most recent unfriending took place this week when a sometime student who had sent me a friend request a few months ago put up an egregiously homophobic comment. I actually liked this guy - he was a lay minister and a teacher at a charter school who was very into the idea of empowering less-advantaged children. But, like any number of "conservative Christians" (as we call them), he considers homosexuality an abomination. After I unfriended him, I told the sponsor we should take him off of our dojo discussion group, both for the remark and the fact that after a few months he had stopped coming to okeiko anyway. My sponsor agreed (without an argument, for a change), especially after he saw the post. (News flash - not all budoka are straight.)
People's social opinions are no longer private. FB and related media are treated like people's living rooms, where they seem to feel comfortable expressing opinions and ideas that once were confined to personal discourse among family and real, not virtual friends. As a kid, I was aghast (along with much of the country) at the sitcom "All in the Family" for its very revealing Archie Bunker character - the casual working-class bigot who said exactly what he thought. The show started a national conversation about who Americans were, or thought they were - one of the few times a tv show had provoked such a reaction. As the series went on, Archie found out that people not like him are not so different in attitude (including that his black neighbor did not trust white people any more than Archie trusted blacks). Ultimately, his social views began to evolve. (I once heard that the actor who played him convinced the creators of the show that Archie should be portrayed as being more complex, which he ultimately was).
The thing that really bothers me is that the people I have been unfriending are fellow budoka, because that's what my FB list mostly consists of (along with family members and the occasional old high schoolmate). And it has set me to thinking: as budo teachers, do we have ethical responsibilities when it comes to deciding who we teach, or who we consider colleagues?
This is not a new topic. About 10 years ago, a group of budoka had a yearly forum at which they presented papers that addressed issues of sexism and other ethical topics as they related to their practice. One guy presented on a teacher who used his position of authority to sexually abuse a female student (he was caught, convicted and sent to jail for a few years). In another story, an aikidoka recommended a friend to his teacher, in spite of having an "edgy" temper. A few months later the guy disappeared. Upon inquiry, the aikidoka found out the guy had been arrested for using his newly acquired skills to put his wife in the hospital. The teacher was mortified, and the aikidoka was upset that he had recommended him, but until his arrest, he had no idea the person was violent or abusive.
In my own practice, I once refused to teach a guy who was mentally at least - if not also physically - abusing his girlfriend. My sempai at the time was irritated with me, because he noted that everyone involved was "an adult," and their private behavior was not my problem. I responded that the girlfriend was a victim and I was not going to teach someone capable of behaving in that way. (He was also disrespectful to me personally for Teaching While Female. Eventually, he and the sempai had a falling out and the issue became moot in any case.)
Koryu budo is a small world - I recently attended a seminar that was also attended by an "unfriend" who had expressed an obviously racist point of view, prompting me to delete him from my feed. I mentioned the episode to a few of the other people I was training with. The person is a disciplined budoka who is quite good at what he does; and, outside of a certain arrogance, is not a bad training partner either. But it's hard for me to have any kind of even casual relationship with him, knowing what I know. At the same time, I was not sure it was the right thing to "out" him to a couple of my colleagues. The sempai leading the seminar noted that he did not want to have a political discussion with him, but otherwise was ok teaching him. I am not. At the seminar, I was cordial and kept my distance.
My sponsor has said it's not his business to consider potential customers' points of view; even though, as a minority himself, he is not comfortable with racist remarks. I'm not comfortable either, and would prefer that any bigots lurking among my FB friends keep their opinions to themselves. But, unfortunately, the political discourse has recently made it okay for people to express their distrust of anyone not like themselves. Naively, they assume that their FB feed consists of users who think similarly. They now have one less "friend" who disagrees with them.
Thursday, September 3, 2015
A dojo is not a class
So, the dog days of August are lingering into September. It's hot, it's humid,and, thanks to the wildfires in the West, it's hazy with pollution. Not much wind, and no rain to speak of - for months. Catalogs are showing up at my door with people in long sleeves, but it's 90F outside. Nice try.
It's also the week before Labor Day. People who have not taken a vacation all summer are taking one this week. This means not many people will be at okeiko tonight. Their absence is causing some angst for my sponsor.
Him: "If no one comes, we have to cancel class."
Me: "No we don't. Anyway, why don't you come to okeiko?"
Him: "Because I'll have to have the part-timer come in to manage while I'm at okeiko. I'll lose money since no one else is coming. So I will tell her not to come in and stay in the office myself."
Me: "We will not cancel. A dojo is not a class."
As basically everyone knows (though no one agrees on how quite to interpret it), the word dojo (道場) means, "a place to practice the way." And budo (武道), of course, is the "way of the warrior." Other writers (actually, many other writers) have discussed the meaning of these terms, and especially the word michi (道) at length, so let's just put it simply and say that our dojo is the place where we practice the way of the warrior. And the "way" involves historical, aesthetic, technical, spiritual and (perhaps mostly) personal aspects of a particular martial art or arts. In actuality, some aspects of the practice may be emphasized more than others, but that's okay. The goal of practice is to improve - mentally, physically, spiritually, personally - over time. Slow time. Years. A lifetime.
A dojo is not a class. It's a dojo. That means that, even if I am the only one there, there's okeiko, because I will practice on my own, no matter what. With all due respect to my sponsor - that bills need to be paid, etc., you cannot take the above paragraph and redefine it into a commercial transaction, no matter how important your motives for doing so; because once that happens, then it is no longer a dojo, and the meeting of the practitioners is no longer an okeiko.
My sponsor offers other classes. At one point he confessed to me that the other teachers are all over the map - if they are tired, no class. If they have other plans, no class. If they think no one else is coming, no class. The lack of consistency makes it difficult to build up regular attendance because the students (and prospective students) don't know from week to week whether there will be a class or not. I think it's because teaching for them is a potential means to an end (i.e., getting paid to do something that you care about deeply; though in this case, I can say that the pay issue is pretty nonexistent).
With all due respect to these teachers, teaching is an integral part of budo, which is why I don't just blow off practice based on some hunch as to how many people might be there. I used to think that teaching was just a way of giving back, of metaphorically if not literally thanking my teachers and seniors for teaching me, but now I know it is more than that. Teaching other people is not just a way of passing on knowledge, or giving back, it is part of what budo is. It's not just that the kohai ask questions that may require thought. Teaching gives depth and perspective to what you already know, or think you know. Annoyingly, it can also be a useful gauge for realizing how much you don't know.
So, yes, I would rather practice with other practitioners. While it's true that I can practice solo kata to my heart's content on my own, the difference between a monk's cell and a dojo is that there are other people around to work with. As an old sempai of mine once said, you can practice what you know (and I would say, improve up to a point) alone, but in order to learn new things, you need other people. We see evidence of this all the time, in daily life. When two old friends get together and begin to recall the same incident, their memories of the experience are enhanced as their recollections feed off of each other. While solitary thinking is excellent, it often takes more than one perspective to solve a problem. A dojo works in the same way.
So, while I am perfectly happy tonight to work alone, if that's what happens (and leave early for a change!), I hope some people are back from their wanderings (or not quite gone yet for the holiday weekend) and available to practice with me. But even if I am hitori de, my okeiko will be time well spent.
It's also the week before Labor Day. People who have not taken a vacation all summer are taking one this week. This means not many people will be at okeiko tonight. Their absence is causing some angst for my sponsor.
Him: "If no one comes, we have to cancel class."
Me: "No we don't. Anyway, why don't you come to okeiko?"
Him: "Because I'll have to have the part-timer come in to manage while I'm at okeiko. I'll lose money since no one else is coming. So I will tell her not to come in and stay in the office myself."
Me: "We will not cancel. A dojo is not a class."
As basically everyone knows (though no one agrees on how quite to interpret it), the word dojo (道場) means, "a place to practice the way." And budo (武道), of course, is the "way of the warrior." Other writers (actually, many other writers) have discussed the meaning of these terms, and especially the word michi (道) at length, so let's just put it simply and say that our dojo is the place where we practice the way of the warrior. And the "way" involves historical, aesthetic, technical, spiritual and (perhaps mostly) personal aspects of a particular martial art or arts. In actuality, some aspects of the practice may be emphasized more than others, but that's okay. The goal of practice is to improve - mentally, physically, spiritually, personally - over time. Slow time. Years. A lifetime.
A dojo is not a class. It's a dojo. That means that, even if I am the only one there, there's okeiko, because I will practice on my own, no matter what. With all due respect to my sponsor - that bills need to be paid, etc., you cannot take the above paragraph and redefine it into a commercial transaction, no matter how important your motives for doing so; because once that happens, then it is no longer a dojo, and the meeting of the practitioners is no longer an okeiko.
My sponsor offers other classes. At one point he confessed to me that the other teachers are all over the map - if they are tired, no class. If they have other plans, no class. If they think no one else is coming, no class. The lack of consistency makes it difficult to build up regular attendance because the students (and prospective students) don't know from week to week whether there will be a class or not. I think it's because teaching for them is a potential means to an end (i.e., getting paid to do something that you care about deeply; though in this case, I can say that the pay issue is pretty nonexistent).
With all due respect to these teachers, teaching is an integral part of budo, which is why I don't just blow off practice based on some hunch as to how many people might be there. I used to think that teaching was just a way of giving back, of metaphorically if not literally thanking my teachers and seniors for teaching me, but now I know it is more than that. Teaching other people is not just a way of passing on knowledge, or giving back, it is part of what budo is. It's not just that the kohai ask questions that may require thought. Teaching gives depth and perspective to what you already know, or think you know. Annoyingly, it can also be a useful gauge for realizing how much you don't know.
So, yes, I would rather practice with other practitioners. While it's true that I can practice solo kata to my heart's content on my own, the difference between a monk's cell and a dojo is that there are other people around to work with. As an old sempai of mine once said, you can practice what you know (and I would say, improve up to a point) alone, but in order to learn new things, you need other people. We see evidence of this all the time, in daily life. When two old friends get together and begin to recall the same incident, their memories of the experience are enhanced as their recollections feed off of each other. While solitary thinking is excellent, it often takes more than one perspective to solve a problem. A dojo works in the same way.
So, while I am perfectly happy tonight to work alone, if that's what happens (and leave early for a change!), I hope some people are back from their wanderings (or not quite gone yet for the holiday weekend) and available to practice with me. But even if I am hitori de, my okeiko will be time well spent.
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