Changing Dojos

by Mark Binder

It's easier to change dojos as a black belt than as a kyu rank. And it still takes time.

In 1994, I moved from Rhode Island Aikikai to Northeast Aikikai in Chelmsford Massachusetts. I'd met Lou Perriello Sensei at several seminars, but hadn't really paid him much attention. In Providence, I was the senior student, teaching several days a week, and suddenly, I was just another Shodan in a dojo filled with Nidans and Sandans.

At first it was great. I was welcomed. I loved not teaching, avoided lower ranking students like the plague, and practiced only with black belts. What a luxury, to be able to learn from a fellow student's technique, rather than try and show him what was wrong.

Then I started noticing the differences. My old teacher, Glenn Webber, was a student of Chiba Sensei, and practiced with a vigorous unrelenting style that emphasized rapid attacks, and lightening ukemi. Lou was older than Glenn, moved differently and had bad knees. He rarely took ukemi, and the students &emdash; especially the higher ranking kyus &emdash; were (I thought) lazy about their attacks, and very nearly dangerous in their ukemi.

As a newcomer, I kept my peace… for a while.

Then came the first promotion testing, and I had a problem. Not with the techniques, but with the uncommitted attacks.

The Dan students were given an opportunity to critique the tests, so I spoke up. My heart pounded. In my mind, the equation was simple. Without a committed attack, there is no need for technique. Not only that, a lame attack made technique hard, forcing nage to initiate movement and energy, since uke wasn't giving him any.

When I was finished, I bowed, and for several more months went back to my own training. Now I brought a renewed effort. I would show them what I meant by vigorous attack.

Still nothing changed, except some people avoided practicing with me. I heard murmurs about some other's unhappiness with me. No one's attacks got better, and the third, second, and first kyus' ukemi continued to be precarious.

At last, in utter frustration, I announced that I would be holding a series of ukemi workshops on Sundays. After checking with Lou, I posted a sign-up sheet on the bulletin board. There were three students at the first session. Seven at the second. Four at the third. They were all beginners or low-ranking students. I was happy teaching beginners the value in learning ukemi, but I wasn't reaching the people who I thought needed it.

My enthusiasm waned. I began to slacken my own attacks. My ukemi grew sloppy. I started to get hurt.

Then another "transfer" student moved into the dojo. Chris Newport was a second kyu from Burlington, Vermont, who had studied with Terry Dobson. Chris's attacks and ukemi were superb, and I remembered the fun that I used to have in taking falls.

Using Chris, and another shodan, Mike Wood, as my examples, I began bringing my ukemi back up to speed. My teaching schedule picked up, but rather than being on a crusade, I was merely instructing. Blending with the current rather than fighting against it?

In the past few months I've had compliments from several of the kyu students who I had railed against. "You give good attacks," one said. During a shodan test, I saw another take a beautiful break fall.

At the same time, I've finally begun to absorb the many subtleties of Lou's teaching. When I first arrived, Northeast Aikikai's techniques seemed about 30 degrees off the line from what I'd learned. I'd struggled, and found myself frequently frustrated.

How foolish I'd been &emdash; senior student, just a shodan, from another dojo, coming in like a whirlwind to show the old-timers the "true" way.

Thankfully, one of Aikido's chief lessons is patience. If I'd pulled the same stunt in a Karate or Judo dojo, I'd probably have had both my arms broken.

Tips:

If you're on good terms with your old Sensei, ask her to call the new Sensei with a recommendation
Don't gossip. Don't bring problems from one dojo into another.
If you're not willing to fix something, don't complain.
Holding your breath waiting for change may lead to unconsciousness.
Trust your new Sensei and his students. Why else would you practice with them?
Welcome new students in the way you'd like to have been welcomed.