The Relationship Between Teacher And Student

Issoyama Shihan, pouring out the spirit of Aikido.

In United States Air Force basic training, we had a training instructor (TI), the equivalent to a drill instructor in the Army and Marines.  TI’s were typically staff or technical sergeants; men and women who’d been in service for about 8-10 years.  That doesn’t seem like a long time, but when you get off that bus and step on the yellow line for the first time, you just see all the stripes and hear all the gripes.  And there were a lot of gripes:  “Look straight ahead!”  “Get your ***** hands out of your pockets, **********!”  “I said get your ****** feet on that ***** line, *****%$#$^^!!!”  Ah, basic training.  I’ve read a few self-help books over the years, listened to some podcasts on stoicism and humility, but nothing will eviscerate your ego like basic training or boot camp.

For the first few days, you learn that people yelling at you is just another level of conversation.  It’s one-way conversation, but you get used to it.  And there are times when you’re not getting yelled at; talked at, maybe.   It’s still a one-way conversation, but it is instructional.  I can still remember the day our TI taught us how to arrange all of our clothes in a footlocker, how to put hospital corners on a bunk, how to spit shine boots.  His tone was authoritative and sounded a lot like the time my dad taught me how to change the oil and spark plugs, how to change a tire, etc.  An instructor’s job is to teach you a new task and bring you to a level of comprehension so that you can demonstrate the ability to repeat the task.  And that’s pretty much the extent of your relationship…unless it’s your dad, showing you things you’ll never forget.  During the last week of basic training, TIs have all but completed their mission and they lighten a bit, at least mine did.  They were approachable, even friendly.  There’s a time and a place for everything.

In traditional martial arts, the role of teacher is often misunderstood in western culture.  Unfortunately, so is the role of a student.  You see, we have a tough time looking at someone as a parental figure, which is a bit what a sensei, sifu or sabonoim represents.  On the other hand, you have certain individuals that earned their black belt who automatically believe their status has changed from student to instructor.  Again, another dilemma with western martial arts schools.  You see, if I give you a black belt, I can then expect you to teach for me on a regular basis and pass it off as your responsibility, while you’re paying me, of course.  Some teachers and school owners I’ve met have a misguided sense of entitlement when it comes to their students.  I think it’s very difficult to understand the role of teacher and student if you haven’t lived and trained in the country of your marital art’s origin.  Try as we might, it’s really hard to replicate culture when you live in a different culture all together.

The sensei (we’ll just use Japanese here) is someone who has dedicated their life to training.  Not just a couple days a week, not when the mood strikes them.  Training never ceases, despite the demands of job, family and other responsibilities.  It is a deep passion mingled with extreme self-discipline.  They may only have a few minutes some days, but they are always training.  Their thirst for knowledge and mastery extends far beyond the dojo; they read about it, think about it and learn to apply the physical, mental and spiritual aspects of their art in every day life. Some times, in order to continue their own training or at the behest of their teacher, they open a school, often not getting paid for their time and expertise.  Indeed, some people in the traditional martial arts community think it’s a sin for teachers to be compensated, but that’s another conversation.  And the best teachers of any given art, in my opinion, hold themselves to the same if not higher standards than they have for their students, especially when it comes to self practice, physical fitness, behavior, etc.  They interact and live in a manner that deserves the title. Most importantly, they never call themselves, “sensei.”  That’s how you know if somebody gets it or not.

The student’s (kohai) job is the trust their teacher.  See how that already leaves a bad taste in your mouth?  In the west, if I pay you for a service, I expect you to deliver that service in a manner that I deserve…because I’m paying you.  Now, that’s fair to a certain extent.  The fastest way to lose a student is to be a jerk; like choking somebody out on their first lesson to show them what your school is all about.  So much for trust.  But to be a “good” student takes humility; you have to be ok with the fact that whatever you’re doing is hard and you’re not going to get it right away.  In fact, you may have been training for over 10 years and your teacher shows you something new.  But I have encountered more than my share of people who want to challenge me while I’m trying to show them something.  “I’m going to resist so you can’t do the move, I’m going to block as hard as I can to demonstrate my strength.  I’m going to go 110% when we spar and try to score one on you.”  I’m sorry, I can’t help you; your cup is full.  If you really want to get the most out of your experience as a student, I have three vital words for you:  patience, practice and consistency.  In that order.  Patience leads to humility.  Practice leads to mastery.  Consistency leads to depth of knowledge.  And that cycle continues till you’re on the other side of the dirt.

The man in the photo above is one of the best teachers I’ve ever had, Issyoma Shihan…master.  He could be a scary dude one minute and completely gentle the next.  That is beautifully depicted in this picture.  Issoyama is everything I described about the sensei, an example I continue to strive for.

Dave Magliano

Tatsu Dojo

Jisseknkan Budo

Dojo Cho