It Is A Process

"If you think learning Aikido is hard, try teaching it," says the late Kenneth Cottier Sensei.

One time, someone came to try an Aikido class.  After class, I asked her how things went.  She said she really enjoyed it.  But then, she asked, "How does one become an Aikido instructor?  Are there training you have to go through?  Is there a certification process?"  

That took me by surprise.  Nobody ever asked me such questions before.  Nor did I ever ask my teachers about such things.

"Hmm, there is no training on how to teach Aikido.  It is kinda like an apprentice system: you learn Aikido from your teachers, you watch them teach, and then you teach the way you want when it is your turn.  I have the rank that allows me to teach, but, no, I was not 'formally trained' by anybody to teach Aikido, if that is what you are asking . . ."  

The young lady seemed to regret her questions.  She did not know what to say in response.

She looked like the type who can withstand and enjoy a teasing game.  So, I went on, "Now that you know I am not a 'certified, trained instructor', does it change the way you feel about the class you just attended?"  

I have to admit:  I was strangely amused by the situation.  

She waved her hands vigorously in the air while she explained, "No, no, no!  That's not what I meant!  I just showed up unannounced, but you included me in the mix and taught a very coherent and well organized class that was challenging for everybody.  I just wonder how you did it.  That's why I thought maybe someone taught you how to do that."

Since long ago, I have given up the idea of planning ahead for a class because you never know who may show up on a particular day.  Even if the "target audience" for your planned class is here, people may not be in the condition to follow your plan.  Nowadays, most of my classes are "instant brews" based on what I think the people who are on the mat can use on that very day.  

With enough time in, most people can stand out there to show a technique or two in front of a class.  Yet, showing people technical skills is one thing, helping them learn is a totally different story.

As any psychology book will tell you, instead of being told, people benefit more from a learning experience if they reach the conclusion by themselves.  As instructors, therefore, it is essential for us to allow time and space for students to try and even fumble.  

Since instructors already have learnt the movements, we may forget how clumsy we used to be.  We may wonder why it is so hard for our students.  We may have the urge to intervene and help.  Yet, for students, no extra amount of directions or demonstration can replace hands-on experimentation.  There are lessons to learn from every repetition -- whether one succeeds or fails to perform a technique.  The best that instructors can do is to watch students try and be patient.  

At the end, the real Aikido education lies in the process of trying to learn it.  The ability to do the techniques is secondary at best.  

If we are serious about helping students grow into stronger, self-sufficient people, we have to have faith in them and treat them as such.

A student shared with me a video about a research on learning to play musical instruments.  In brief, the research results indicate that, of three groups of students: 1/ people who make a lot of mistakes, 2/ people who make some mistakes, and 3/ people who make no mistakes, group 2 -- the people who make some mistakes -- learn the most.  

Assuming the same is true for learning other things, including Aikido, maybe instructors should design classes ands calibrate the material so that students are encouraged to make some mistakes while they enjoy some triumphant moments.  

In an episode of NPR's Hidden Brain, psychologists pointed out that people remember their experience mostly by how it ends.  Knowing that finding, I try to end classes with a high note.  This way, students get to take home good memories which may motivate them to come back for more.

As good as these theories may sound, however, different people react to challenges differently.  Some people rise to the occasion, while some shrink and back away.  There is no one single motivational tool that works for everyone.  Some students do better when you sing them praises; some feel belittled and lose interest if you pat them too much.  

In addition, depending on the person, a "suitable praise" comes in different forms.  Some students want very upfront big pats on the shoulder and loud verbal praises.  Some only need an exchange in looks and a smile.  Others, you pause to watch them, make a very tiny nod and then walk away is enough.

In my classes, I tend to use the fun factor and little successes as the main rewards for students' effort.  At the same time, I insist on providing constant challenges to maintain an edge and to combat complacency.  It can be a delicate balance.

Like my teachers did for me, I try to be sympathetic with students when they encounter bumps and plateaus on their Aikido journey.  When we learn Aikido, the eyes perceive first, the bodily feeling follows.  Physical coordination to replicate is always the last.   It can be a painfully long, slow process.  As a result, frustration is an inevitable element in the pursuit of Aikido.  

That is why patience is extremely important.  I often remind students, "Be patient with yourself.  The transformation takes time.  It is a process.  And please be patient with me.  I am already doing my best.  I am working on becoming a better instructor for you.  It is a process, too.  Please bear with me."