Thoughts on Shodan Testing

A new student in my Saturday class recently chided me for not having anything new to say on my blog for so long.  I am guilty.  I have been teaching Saturday classes for a while now, and I have much to say.  But not right now.  More on that later.

Right now, I'd like to write down a few thoughts directed at a couple of my fellow Aikidoka who are coming up on their Shodan tests.  File it under "for what it's worth."

At all three dojos where I've trained, "testing" -- especially for Shodan -- is a bit of a misnomer.  For the most part, as the saying goes, if you're up for testing, you've pretty much already proven to the dojo leaders that you are worthy of the rank.  The "test" should be a demonstration -- not an evaluation, really. You're probably not likely to "fail" a test to where you will not be granted the rank.

That said there are ways you can come up short -- which amounts to the same thing.  You won't come away from your Shodan test fully satisfied (I don't know that you should), but you should feel good about it overall.

So, how can you come up short?  Well, that depends on what the Yudansha are looking for. And that's slightly different for each individual -- both the individuals being evaluated, and the individuals doing the evaluation.  You need to satisfy them all.

You need to be able to

• Demonstrate the techniques the way you were taught to do them
• Do this with some degree of proficiency
• Breathe, and move from your hips
• Know the vocabulary
• You will be asked to do things you've never seen in class -- you need to be able to use the basics you know to solve these new problems.
• You will be pushed to your limit, and beyond.  You will be observed as to how you handle this.
• Will you be able to use your training in a real "street" confrontation?

Personally, I look for all of the above.  But there are certain things that I am more concerned with than others.

Having come from different styles myself, I am less concerned personally that you're able to do techniques exactly the way you were taught them -- other than being able to be a consistent teacher for other students.  I assume that you can do this at this point in your training.

I've seen a lot of people pass me in rank over the years, and I've observed their transition through the upper ranks -- particularly heading in to Shodan.  Usually, students go through a couple of distinct events:  wanting to quit because they feel they'll never "get it," and seeing their own Aikido "pop."

Most students reach a point where they're so frustrated with trying to get their technique down well enough for Shodan that they just want to quit.  For me, I went through that three times -- all three times I earned 1st Kyu.  By the last time it happened, I recognized it as the "my Aikido sucks" phase of my training, and, though it lasted a LONG time, I was mentally prepared for it.

I look for "the pop."  What I mean is that each student eventually finds something in Aikido that is recognizably their own.  I find my self saying "ahhh... so that's George's Aikido..."    I'm always learning from students, but it is at this stage of their training when I think they really actually start adding to the art.  It is this that I'm looking for, before and during a Shodan test.

I'm also just looking for some basic "how you hold yourself" stuff.  How do you command the space around you?  Are you fully active even between techniques?  Do you, out of frustration at some point, depart from your training and resort to whatever your particular tendency is (like using strength, maybe you stop moving, etc)?  Do you ever quit -- even when pushed to your limit and beyond?  How does that look?

I will be asking for a "favorite technique."   What technique do you think you do well enough to let it characterize your own personal take on Aikido?

So.  You'll need to satisfy a lot of different criteria.  That's the challenge.

First Class

I just taught my first full class.  I'd like to take a moment and reflect...

First, I have to say that I've had no desire to lead a class 'till now.  I prefer to train.  But, the subject has come up before, and, about a month ago I came away from a Monday class feeling really yucky about my technique -- Shihonage, in particular.   I found myself walking across the parking lot after class, slightly dejected, thinking "maybe the only way I'll ever learn this stuff is if I teach it."

Oh, the irony.

As it happens, an opportunity presented itself to take over the Saturday classes, at least for a while.  I decided that, since my kids are now of an age where they sleep 'till noon anyway, I could make that commitment even if my wife is out of town, so I volunteered.  I'm happy to say I had encouragement from Gaston Sensei, and support from others as well.

I think today was a success.  There were six of us training: Eric and George representing the higher ranks, and the two Davids representing the lower ranks.  Dr. Tom was there, too, but injured his foot in the bathroom after the warmups when the sink apparently fell off the wall.  (He's OK -- a cut on the heel).

The official class rotation called for Kote Gaeshi today.  While the other teachers don't really follow that rotation, I figured that, being the new guy, I would.   As it happens, Gaston Sensei spent some time on it on Thursday, as well, so I had a timely refresher course.

So we worked on Munetori (Lapel-Grab) Gote-Gaeshi from a tenkan blend.  I broke it down several times after watching what Eric and George were doing, pointing out the extension of the blend, the preferred butterfly-grip hand position, and George's tendency to keep the technique very low (I differentiated that with how it was taught sometimes at my first dojo, where it turned into a big almost Kokkyu type throw that focused less on the wrist).

I then asked George to show the technique using the Jo, and we worked on that for a while.  (I though of this as soon as George entered the room, as I realized I always wanted him to show more weapons work, and -- now I had the class!).

Then we did it from a static lapel grab, with a direct entry, without a Tenkan.  Classic Gaston Sensei stuff.  I changed things up a bit here and let George and Eric work together for a while.  They seemed to really be getting into working with a higher rank.

I asked George to show Sankyo from the Jo, and he threw me a curve.  I expected him to turn to the Soto version -- blending around to the outside (almost a Nikkyo).  But instead he went Uchi (inside) and showed it with a throw for the finish.   So we did that for a while.  Later, he revealed that he thinks he might have made that up on the spot.  Ha!

Then we did Sankyo in our classic style -- from Shomenuchi, with a Tenkan blend.  We focused on a down-blend, and keeping it in close (rather than making the mistakes that I, personally, always make).  :-)

Finally, I showed a variation on Shomenuchi Sankyo from a past life, which is the Tachi-waza version of the Jo technique I was expecting George to show.  This is an off-line blend with a back-foot tenshin (foot movement) that redirects the attack so that Sankyo can be reached from the outside (soto), without going under (inside, uchi) Uke's arm first.  I think people liked that one, and I have to admit it felt really good to do it again.

On that last technique in particular, it became evident to me how much teaching can help you learn (as I expected).   I originally did not point out the foot movement, and people were having trouble.  Eric pointed out to me that this was different, so I was able to elaborate.  Also, I noticed that the hand movement closely resembles the technique in our Jo-kata where we do an overhead block and a strike.

One final note...  I've been specifically asking people I work with lately to PLEASE tell me when my technique is not working.  I noticed about a year ago (I've had my Shodan for almost two years now) that people had mostly stopped correcting me.  As an upper rank in our dojo, you mostly work with lower ranks.  This means that Sempai seldom train with other Sempai, and Kohai seldom with Kohai.  While I understand the reasoning, I believe it comes at a cost.  It's just as valuable for lower ranking students to work with each other as anything else, and it's clearly valuable for ANYone -- including the upper-echelon -- to work with more experienced students.   When I'm leading class, I intend to mix this up a bit, at least for part of the class, every chance I get.

Thank you again, to all those who encouraged me to step up.  Thank you to those who showed up as well -- particularly to George, who was kind enough to let me put him on the spot.

Our Loss

We just learned that one of our fellow Aikido died.  Joe Coty died doing what he loved, while in a class at the shooting range where he was an instructor.  Unfortunately, on this day, he suffered a fatal heart attack.    Joe had been through a lot recently, as he cared for and suffered with his wife battling, and finally succumbing to, cancer.   Joe was scheduled to test for 3rd Kyu in the fall of 2015.   He will be missed.  We have a running joke at the Dojo... I will think of Joe next time Sensei says "OK, everybody grab a Jo(e)."

Joe and I weren't very close, in the normal sense.  But it's hard not to feel a sense of closeness when you spend time on the mat together with someone.  You sweat together, put hands on each other, and cause each other pain and frustration.  Sometimes, without meaning to, you even injure each other. It's this very closeness that makes it hard for beginners to become regulars.  Joe didn't let any of that stop him.

I hope that, when I'm 68, I have the same passion for life, and for Aikido, that Joe did.

Push Hands

The attrition rate of new Aikido students is very, very high.

I've been doing Aikido since 1998, and in that time I've seen a lot of students quit Aikido before they've ever really started -- say, in the first 3-6 months.

My wife was one of them.  We've talked about it.  To her, the problem is clear.  It has very little to do with the art of Aikido.  It has to do with all the physical, mental, and emotional crap you bring to the mat with you, and how you swim in all that baggage as you interact in unfamiliar ways with unfamiliar people.

Those of us who've been around for a while have probably forgotten how scary it is to choose a partner and work with them; to grab their wrist, or have them grab yours, to cause pain in another human being, or allow pain to be inflicted upon yourself (both even with boundaries).  And so on.

Remember the thoughts that went (or still go?) through your head as a beginner?

• Should I choose a partner?
• Why did they choose me?
• Why didn't they choose me?
• Is he better than me?
• Oh, I suck -- can I work with a beginner instead?
• Oh, I suck -- can I work with a black belt instead?
• Why is my partner DOING  that?!
• Should I correct them?
• Is Sensei watching me?
• Why isn't Sensei paying attention to me?
• This person SMELLS!
• This person SWEATS!
• This person is so BIG!
• This person is to TINY!
• Why is my partner correcting me? I've been doing this longer than they have!
• Why is my Uke being so stubborn?!
• Ha! They can't throw me if I do... this.
• Ouch! -- not so hard!  I hate working with this person.
• Oh, I LOVE working with this person!
• . . . and on and on and on...

I think we lose most of our Aikido students in the first 3-6 months because of all the interpersonal garbage that we ALL bring to the mat with us.   And because learning to fall can suck -- but that's a different story.

Recently, my Tai Chi teacher was adding various "push-hands" drills to our (Tai Chi) practice.  If you're curious what that looks like, just google it, or check out this example (which happens to be a wonderful guitar teacher I'm met before... https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1jHYHwOC8zU)

The one in the video is actually considerably more complex that the simple ones I've done so far, but they show that there's a gentle interaction between the partners, a complete lack of tension, and certainly no pain being inflicted on one another.

It seems to me that these kinds of drills would be a good thing for all beginning Aikido students to start with, if only to get over the simple human fear of having another human in your space.

World Combat Games

Turn off the TV.  This is WAAAY better.

Really beautiful all-around demonstration of LOTs of different techniques, styles, and personalities.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CDRkhJKaDkI

I fall, therefore I train

So, I went for a run at lunch today.  I'm running one of my usual 5K routes, but because it's the warmest day of the year so far and I'm a little low on sleep, I struggle a bit.   I'm at the end of the run, and my legs are rubbery.  I have about 10 yards to go to my "end" marker, and I stumble.

I'm on really rough, unfinished sidewalk concrete.  Not smooth -- bumpy.

I start my impending nasty face plant with my left hand leading the way to the earth. In the split second that seemed like forever on the way down, I see myself pulling my hand in to gently touch the concrete, and I roll to my left.  Not a pretty roll.  Pretty awkward, in fact.  But I end up on safely my side/back, shaking my head.

There is no doubt in my mind that if I hadn't been been falling to the mat hundreds of times a week for the past 20 years, I would have certainly bloodied up my left hand really badly, and very probably broken or at least sprained my wrist.

As it is, I sustained a tiny bruise on my left hip, a little strawberry on my left elbow, and a minor abrasion on my right hand.  My left hand -- that's the one that frets the strings of my guitar -- is unscathed.

Another minor victory for klutzes everywhere.

Balance

My Taiji teacher said something this weekend that I thought I'd relate to you...  somethign that should sound familiar to any Aikidoka, but this time the simple way it was put, sort of drove it home for me (again)....

He said: "Whenever you're out of balance, the answer is always less tension -- not more."

And yet, often when we're out of balance (leaning too far one way or the other, for instance), our first reaction is to apply a correction with additional effort -- push this way or that, for instance.

In Aikido, we operate on the principle that if we're in balance with Uke, then the technique will flow more or less effortlessly.  It's what we put our faith in, as practitioners.  So, if a technique in Aikido is not working, it means it's out of balance.  If it's out of balance, it means that we need to apply less tension -- not more.

Not working? Do less.