That Moment

When I was climbing the ladder to black belt, in the time before I started teaching, my focus was one hundred percent on the techniques and how to do them correctly. Tunnel vision. Sure, I cared about body connection, hip rotation and everything else, but only as it related to what I was doing. I didn’t think about it too deeply. I had a job to do and I was going to get it done.

That’s probably why they say, “When you become a black belt is when you really start to learn”. I believe it’s true. But I’ll take it a step further and offer that when you become an instructor you truly begin to understand the potential and how to improve both yourself and students. In the very beginning I can remember the moments of trepidation when I’d correct a student. “No, move your hand here” or “that foot moves first”. I second guessed myself and walked through the moves before I’d open my mouth. Lacking confidence comes with the territory for a new instructor. I’m sure of it. Those that bluster in, loud and pushy probably never get to the next stage of teaching. (That’s my own personal philosophy. You can take it or leave it.)

Once the confidence hurdle was crossed an interesting thing happened. In the quiet moments of teaching an idea or concept would click in my head. I could see the solution to a problem and didn’t have to muddle through how to fix it. I loved those moments then, and I love them now. There’s only one thing better.

It’s that moment. When I run a drill with a student and I see the smile involuntarily slide across their face. Their face sparkles, illuminated as if a light just went on. Maybe because it did. I had that moment yesterday. It was fabulous. The young lady who I was coaching ‘got’ my point. She punched the bag. I don’t mean touched it with her hand, I mean she smashed her knuckles in, determined to push the bag away from her. She dove in, grabbed her confidence and went from being a little girl to a strong, confident martial artist.

Oh, if I could only have captured that moment in a picture. The look on her face. It was priceless. Best of all, she knew what had happened. She knew all my coaching, getting in her face for the past thirty minutes, had worked. She knew she could do it. That moment. That’s why I teach.

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