Special Guest blog by Sifu Jazilyn Wiley
As instructors or teachers of any kind, we should all keep in mind a sober assessment of ourselves.
“To be honest with oneself is a terribly difficult thing to do.”
Bruce Lee hit the nail on the head when he said this. Once someone receives power, they reveal more and more of their true character. Hence why having a code of honor and ethics is so important in the martial arts community. When someone is newly equipped with the title Sifu, that title can inflate their ego. They can easily forget the many hours of labor spent to earn that title. Being humble is a lifelong journey that extends far beyond one’s time on the mats. It’s in everyday life, how we treat our parents, our children, our spouse, even others like waiters and, believe it or not, even government workers. Remembering one’s struggles, learning from them, and finally translating them in a way most beneficial to one’s students is the mark of a trustworthy and great Sifu!
To speak from my own experience, at the age of 17, I had been training for nearly 10 years and recently become a Sifu. While the ink was still drying on my certificate, I sought to compete in a boxing match. As a fresh face in life as well as teaching, I set out to prove that I deserved my title and was truly the prodigy I believed I was. I was not looking for a match to sharpen my abilities for future students; no, my arrogance and insecurities led me to prove myself. I wanted to show that my skills could stand up in a competitive sport under as much pressure as I could fathom (ya know, without going to bars, picking fights at 2 am). My heart was pounding as I walked into that little damp basement with the sound of leather ricocheting off bodies and bags, the loud whipping of jump ropes, and coaches yelling at their guys in the ring. I stood there with my gym bag hung over my shoulder and my nonuniform workout attire, and suddenly it hit me… I was alone. No one knew my name, no one called me Sifu, and no one cared if I was any good or not.
The coach who ran the gym introduced himself and showed me to a whiteboard. “These are the drills you do when you first come in.” He pointed to this long list of what seemed like busywork for someone of my skill and stature. “Once you finish that, someone will come over to hold mitts for you,” he patted my shoulder and walked off. “That’s it?” I thought. No, “what do you know or have you ever boxed before or anything?” Nope. That was it. I started on this 12-round circuit like everyone else around me. I began to realize that my title, which was well earned and something I very much held on to, did not speak for itself. I got a chance to start over again and feel uneasy, a little scared, I still had my title, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was what I could do when the bell rang.
There was no greater good in my initial quest, but an opportunity presented itself. Walking into the lion’s den not as Sifu, but as nobody. No one was looking out for me. No one was supposed to respect my title just because. I learned very quickly that people will respect a jab that lands solidly much more than any title. My arrogance took me to that gym, but by being humbled, I was able to learn and grow, giving me the wonderful opportunity to pass skills along to my students that could be revolutionary in saving their lives one day, or at the very, very least, encouraging throughout the students’ cultivation as a martial artist. There will always be someone bigger and better than you out there. But this isn’t the point. My true goal was to become the best instructor I could be. But it was twisted by the 17-year-old’s thinking: ‘I have to be the best.’ The truth is, even someone out there could beat up Bruce Lee! (and almost did…cough…Wong Jack Man…cough). Ok, I won’t antagonize you too much, but it is a reality we must know and understand. Does Bruce Lee’s JKD not matter if there was someone who could have beaten him? We are not agreeing to fight an incredibly skillful, trained fighter. We are preparing for a street fight against someone unknown. However, unless we are living a highly immoral life, it’ll probably be the homeless guy we didn’t notice leaving the convenience store too late. That being said, as instructors, we never teach from that point of view. We teach everyone to become a monster…so skillful that they’re nearly impossible to defeat! After weeks and months of feeling insufficient because I couldn’t outbox their amateur and pro boxers, my egotistical clouds were cleared.
And then it clicked.
Why are you doing this?
To teach self-defense through JKD and Wing Chun, using boxing as a safe testing ground.
It all made sense; then I was able to train without my entire reputation and future on the line. I was able to respect and enjoy sparring with these skilled fighters because I calmed down and remembered the purpose of it all: To be a student always is to be a Sifu!
This then begs the question: what is a Sifu? Well, of course, he or she needs to be able to perform the techniques at a high level of proficiency; however, you should be able to do that by the time you are a black belt. A Sihing (senior student/kung-fu big brother) understands the skills well and can be a great help as a demonstrator and an assistant in preparing for a class, i.e., clearing the floor and grabbing focus mitts. As the Sihing matures and is given more responsibilities, they can communicate the techniques and tactics necessary to most people in an easy-to-grasp manner and, hopefully, make it entertaining. These are basic skills for beginning to teach in any art form. What sets a Sifu apart is that he or she is bleeding to teach this beloved art to his or her students. An instructor loves the art and science of Jeet Kune Do/Wing Chun and has a passion for helping each person who takes classes learn and become a master of it!
A great instructor takes the heart and soul of the art and delivers it into every student, melding it with each student’s heart as he or she passes along this knowledge. It is no wonder that Sifu means not only teacher, but Kung-fu father too. One has completely lost the familial relationship when they only provide the physical skills. They must pass along the love of the art with the purest of convictions, in no way seeking to hold a student back because of their own vain imagination. On a fundamental level, no one is more highly regarded than anyone else – we are all laid bare before God. All authority has been given to us, which means there isn’t unnecessary competition between instructors and/or students, and the instructor is continually educating themselves to become the best they can be! If you are proficient in your skills and knowledge, there is no denying that it was well-earned. But what is left after you have accumulated this high level of mastery? What does it profit a man to gain all this knowledge and lose his soul? When a student chooses to learn from you, you are entrusted with a grave matter—a desire to led by you, his or her Sifu. To cultivate a student in any art form takes time and patience, a sort of tending that is attentive and produces an atmosphere of growth. A plant cannot grow in hardened soil, nor can a student blossom in the hardened heart of a Sifu! A great instructor understands the depth of the task they have been asked to perform and embraces it earnestly. To know the art is an excellent task in and of itself, but to share it with others comes from an overflow. An overflow of love for the art and conviction that it is a necessity in people’s lives. Or, at the very least, it may add to someone’s joy in life. If there is no abundance of love for the art that pours from you and seeks to empower the next person searching for your advice, then you should not wear the title Sifu, as you are a high-level practitioner, not an instructor!
Follow me for a moment as I slow down and speak about humility. It is not feeling insufficient and thinking you have not attained the competency necessary to share, nor is it getting beaten on by your novice students to avoid discouraging them. It is not false modesty where you deny the proficiency you have attained. It is knowing your value as a high-level practitioner and then reaching out to your students in a way they can understand. Studies show that people perceive intelligence by how well you can inform others. People who use bigger words and more embellished speech are not perceived as the wisest people in the room, but actually the person who can boil down a lofty or complex idea into layman’s terms for everyone to grasp—a prime example of humility. You may be well read, and I do encourage it if you do not want to be the end-all, be-all of the theories and art form that you are teaching, but if you speak with language only a few can grasp, what is the likelihood you will reach the people who genuinely need your knowledge? If a man or woman is nervous or timid entering your class, they certainly do not want to be overwhelmed by a proud speech that speaks over their head. You are no longer concerned with the heart of that person and are more set to prove your own worth. How well you perform the art/ how much you know will not help another person fight! You must take their heart and show them how THEY can perform the skills they see you do with exceeding fluency.
I remember an old story my Sifu used to tell of his boxing coach. When Ringside was just getting started, they sent banners to many boxing gyms that read, “We make champions!” in big, bold letters. As a surprise to their beloved coach, they were hanging the sign before he came into the gym that afternoon. Upon seeing it, his coach was furious. “Take that sign down,” he yelled at his students. “Take that sign down, I said!” They were shocked, he didn’t love their surprise for him. My sifu and his classmates took the sign down and waited for their coach to return. “We make champions is a bunch of bull.” The coach explained. “Look around this gym, how many of these boys are going to be champions? Probably none of them. But how many of them are going to be fathers, husbands, friends?… Boxing makes men!” This was a moment with a great instructor! A man who knew the importance of character over medals. His goal was to build up the people who came to him and give them a goal they could reach! Learn the craft and apply its lessons to your heart; someone is constantly trying to punch you, but they don’t always use their hands. Sticking to your discipline under pressure is the goal at the heart of every martial artist!
Therefore, let every Sifu never forget the white belt we once wore, or the first day of class with our flat feet and awkward, unbalanced stance. From that moment through the bad sparring sessions, to the aficionado who is now teaching, we are all still students. For a Sifu to forget those moments is the absolute worst thing they could do! A great leader takes it upon themselves to correct their mistakes/ shortcomings and ensure their students understand their aim. Jocko Willink, a former Navy SEAL commander, calls this extreme ownership. Whatever is within your power is within your responsibility; take hold of it -in love!
By Sifu Jazilyn Wiley – Senior Instructor in Cornerstone Jeet Kune Do