That’s a quote from my 1991 article, “Learning from Children: Five Easy Lessons for Teachers,” in the book Martial Arts Teachers on Teaching. And, as anyone who works with kids knows, they do it frequently, often calling other kids on mistakes they don’t realize they are also making themselves.

I went on to say, no offense to eight-year-olds, but that can’t be what good teaching is all about. I stressed that it takes more skill to discern what students are doing right, than what they are doing wrong. Mistakes are obvious; pointing out mistakes is shallow teaching.

A similar subject recently came up in my parallel life as a writer-slash-poet. I was discussing with some writer friends an approach used by a successful local workshop leader we know. When writers in his groups comment on each other’s work, he requires them to begin with those things they liked, before launching into weaknesses and negatives. Many assume our friendly workshop leader uses this approach in order to be nice – to make people feel good, so they’ll be more likely to keep coming to the workshops.

I disagree, and I link it back to what I said about those eight-year-olds, twenty-some years ago. Requiring a reader to say something positive is a way of ensuring the critic has taken more than a superficial look at the work, before going for the negative critique. Criticism (the negative kind) is all too easy – and all too satisfying for some people, given the human trait of feeling superior when putting something down. By requiring the positives, our workshop-leader friend is raising the quality of instruction, by requiring would-be instructors to examine the work more carefully before speaking.

And, yes, it is more pleasant for the writer to hear some good things before the bad. This may make them more receptive to criticism, but more importantly, the criticism that comes through this process will often be deeper, more honest, and more useful.

Now let’s get back to the topic of teaching martial arts. There are those who confuse positive instruction with being nice – catering to students feelings, lavishing praise while avoiding critique, never saying anything that might (supposedly) harm their self-esteem. This is a mistake.

Positive instruction is not about being nice. It’s very pragmatic. It works, for one thing: Thanks to years of research in coaching and human behavior, it’s well understood now that the mind more easily processes, and the body more easily acts upon, instructions framed in positive (“do this”) rather than negative (“don’t do that”) terms.

And it helps you be a better instructor. What, after all, is your job as instructor? It’s not to correct mistakes day after day (though admittedly, you will spend some time doing that). It’s to guide students on a path from where they are now, to where they could be at their best. The ability to see what they are doing right is essential to both those things: seeing where they are now, and understanding where they could be. You’ll use that knowledge to build upon and to mold. It’s essential, then, that you take the time to see it – and express it.

Being nice is something altogether different. It’s about demeanor, personality, maybe personal style. Martial arts instructors come in all varieties, and I must say some of the most successful, effective instructors I know – experts in positive instruction – are the most hard-nosed, demanding, no-nonsense personalities on the mat. And they are beloved, not because they are warm-fuzzy-nice, but because there’s no question they care deeply about their students’ progress. On the flip side, although I won’t make a blanket statement, some of the warm-fuzzy-nice guy instructors I’ve seen have also been some of the least effective. The students are smiling and having fun; they leave the mat happy, and eager to come back; but on the other hand, they don’t learn much of what I’d call martial arts.

Where do you fall on the scale, fellow instructors? Warm-fuzzy? Tough meanie? – And how do you integrate positive instruction into your style?

Normally, when a student misses a test date, I’ll schedule a make-up asap, but sometimes this doesn’t work out. This young man hadn’t kept up his skills during his absence, and when I ran him through the basics at the first class of the year – expecting to check off his test requirements one by one – I discovered he just didn’t know his stuff. He didn’t recognize the names of basic techniques we practice every class, and he couldn’t show the difference between lunge punch and reverse punch. When I scheduled him to test back in December, he was able to do these things. Clearly, he had lost ground during the time off. It happens, and when it does, we get to work. I put him (and the other white belts) through their paces repeatedly during class, covering the 1-yellow-stripe techniques and stressing the importance of focusing on these basics before trying to copy the advanced kids or learn new things. Today I ran through the list again, and again he wasn’t ready.

So, here he came after class, asking why he hadn’t gotten a new test date yet. I told him that, as much as I wanted him to get his stripe, when I looked at his basics, I didn’t feel he was ready. I pointed out the difficulty he’d had with lunge punch and reverse punch, and with performing the lower block correctly. (This is a child who is old enough to do these things well.) He looked disappointed, as is to be expected; but more than that – he looked shocked, as though it hadn’t occurred to him there was a connection between what we were doing in class, and what stripes he would get on his belt. I assured him that he would get his date as soon as I saw him getting the basics back up to where they’d been in December. He continued to look surprised.

We instructors talk about it all the time, but it still amazes me: Many kids seem to expect rewards they haven’t earned. They want the stripe or belt, and figure they’re entitled to it just for showing up, no matter how little effort they put in! But they’re good kids. Usually, all they need is for someone to clarify the connection between effort, accomplishment and rank (and then clarify it again, and again). Today’s young man, like so many kids, somehow didn’t understand that the things he was messing up on during class had something to do with his belt rank. And like so many, instead of focusing on what he needed to improve and practicing outside the dojo, he was walking out the door and forgetting about everything till the next class. (That’s why I wrote the book – to help those kids take their lessons home and make real progress, instead of forever running in place.)

Instructors – How do you help your young students understand the connection between effort and reward? Please share some of your favorite lessons and strategies.

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"Six push-ups!"

The “Deck of Cards Class” is something I picked up years ago from a member of an adult class I was teaching. He got it from a Hapkido instructor he’d trained under in college. I stole the basic idea–which was to use the suits and numbers to determine the repetitions done in class–and adapted it to my tastes. It goes like this: I shuffle a deck of playing cards, and designate meanings for the four suits. Clubs mean ‘hand techniques,’ spades mean ‘kicks,’ hearts mean ‘exercises/calisthenics,’ and diamonds may mean different things, depending on the class and my whim– maybe partner work, rolls and drops, or performing in front of the group. Aces and twos of any suit usually mean ‘kata.’

Class proceeds by letting a student draw a card, and having the whole class perform the repetitions suggested by the card. For example, if the first card drawn is nine of spades, I’ll choose a kick, and we’ll do a count of nine (or perhaps, nine on each leg) with a kiai on number nine. Then the next student draws. In a class with older or more advanced students, I’ll let the kids choose the techniques, jumping in only if someone is taking too long to decide. (It’s important to keep things moving!) Even with the younger kids, I’ll let them choose for hearts – push-ups, frog jumps, jumping jacks, etc. When clubs are drawn, the technique might be a hand combination (as opposed to a single technique), as appropriate. If the card drawn is a low number, I might make the most of it by tripling the technique done on each count. The possibilities are endless, really.

In a good Deck of Cards Class, each student will get to draw twice or more. Even when they don’t get to choose the techniques, they feel a sense of excitement and control when they’re drawing from the deck. It’s fun!

Do you use any similar devices to keep things exciting? Please share.

I have just become a junior instructor and one thing that I am most unsure about is the ‘mat chat’ for the youngest kids class. What topics and themes should I use?

Great question. The easy answer would be, talk about the same things you discuss in the older kids’ classes: respect, etiquette, perseverance, all the martial arts values. But discussions with 4- and 5-year-olds can be a little different.

I remember, early in my experience with that age group, I asked, “Can someone give me an example of using good manners in the dojo?” One hand shot up, and I called on her, “Yes, Kayley?” She announced loudly, and with great pride, “My brother is seven!”

One thing I do with my youngest kids is begin class by choosing a “word of the day,” discussing it a bit, and revisiting it throughout class. These include things like teamwork, fitness, balance, safety, and of course my favorite, respect. Sometimes I talk about the Five A’s of Self Defense: Aware, Alert, Avoid, Anticipate (what?! that’s a really big word!), and Act. (I might not get through all five in a day.) I try to fish for what the kids know and can contribute, while sharing what I think, what I’d like them to remember, and what it would be great to talk about with their parents.

Instructors, what topics do you use with your youngest? And, maybe more importantly, how do you go about discussing them in an age-appropriate way?

I’m wondering if any of the instructors out there have worked with blind/visually impaired students. We have been asked if we can teach a six year-old who is blind, and we are exploring the possibilities.

I’ve been aware over the years of adult martial artists with visual impairments training successfully in various schools and styles. Working with a 6-year-old would pose different challenges. This inquiry got me wondering how I would handle it.

Undoubtedly, there are instructors out there well-trained and experienced with this issue. Any suggestions?

A little 5-year-old girl walks out onto the mat to start class. She has been in the dojo for 9 months already. Today, her mother follows her, holding a medium-sized stuffed animal. The mother says, “Mr. Cloud will watch you from here,” and she starts to put the stuffed animal on top of a pile of kicking targets that are on the mat. As the instructor, how do you respond?
A) No, I think Mr. Cloud will watch you from the visitor area with mom.
B) Oh, look we have another student for today! Hello Mr. Cloud.
C) [fill in your response here].

Personally, I’m pretty strict and serious about the training area, so I know my first impulse would be to do something like A) – although I would try my best to be gentle and courteous with the parent. B) has possibilities, though…

How about the rest of you? I’m very curious to hear. And my colleague won’t reveal how he or she handled the situation until we hear from some of you, so please post your thoughts!

The post prompted my colleague Michael Hornback from Hero Academy in Florida to ask for more details about our dojo demos:

I’d love to hear what you do before, during, and after your demo… Who’s the audience? What’s your purpose for the demo? – that kind of thing.

Let me put those questions to all you instructors out there on the world wide web. Does your dojo put on public demonstrations? What are your goals for these demos, and how do you carry them out? Does it work? – for example, if recruitment is one of your goals, have your demos gained you some new students? What was it about the demo that drew them in?

As for Redwood Dojo, our demos are for the purposes of community spirit, dojo spirit, and student pride in accomplishment. We perform two or three times per year: at the annual school fair for the elementary school adjacent to the dojo (many of our members come from that school community); at the annual open house for the community center that houses our dojo; and, in a new tradition, we hold an annual in-house demo and party for dojo members, their families and friends.

Our demos are open to any member who wishes to participate, regardless of rank or ability; in other words, we don’t have an elite “demo team.” And there’s minimal rehearsal outside regular class time. To pull this off, we select drills and activities from each group’s regular training curriculum, and make sure each performer is doing things at which he or she can excel. Older kids, adults and teens can be more creative — if they take responsibility for their own preparation.

Based on who signs up to be in the demo, I impose a structure and order on the events. This has on occasion meant staying up late the night before writing names on vinyl spots to be placed on the floor to get the younger kids lined up! Teens and adults help with the kids’ demos, either playing a role in the performance or organizing them on or off stage, in addition to performing their own demos.

While recruitment has not been a major purpose for us, I do of course introduce the performance by talking about the history of our dojo, what we teach, and why it is valuable. At the community center open house, we pass out flyers, and make sure more flyers are available inside the center (that demo is outside in the park).

Recruitment is an area where we could stand to improve, so I look forward to hearing more about what the rest of you do. So let me repeat the questions:

Does your dojo do public demonstrations? When and where?

Please post!

What a great idea (I thought); and it spurs me to ask all of you:

What do you do in your dojo to help students see the connection between martial arts values, good citizenship, and everyday life?

I think we all talk from time to time about these connections, and aim for our students to understand that martial arts is a way of life. But what are some ways to go beyond the occasional lecture? Do you use regular discussions? Homework? Words of the month? Organized community service? Tell us how you approach it at your school.