Dear Parent - The open letter I'd never send…

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The open letter I’d love to write, but would never send…

Dear Parent/Spectator,

I spend a lot of my time looking at my feet. Part of it is as I am getting older I am working ever harder at making sure I can still see them as I stand up. I also spend a lot of time looking at other people’s feet. The stance you’re in and how your feet are placed is extremely important for balance, especially when you take a punch or kick. So invariably, for myself and a pile of kids, I’m looking at feet. Looking for them and for me to achieve balance.

As this relates to sparring, balance is crucial. I like sparring; I think it’s an important part of karate, and it’s a good way to get out of your comfort zone. Sparring is also a way to apply all the techniques and pad work you’ve learned to reality (albeit a rigidly structured one, I agree). The thing is, once you spar everyone in your class enough times, you know them and their go-to moves. You get comfortable with them and your nerves are a bit less. The butterflies in your stomach subside a little. You can be a bit distracted and complacent yet still do passably well.

For context, the program I am associated with teaches mainly kids, some as young as four. There are 13 locations in the area, and several times a year we get together for a tournament. The main events are sparring and kata, and this is really the only time a lot of these kids will see and compete with other students from the various dojos. There are some kids (like my three) who will go in there like the Klingon General in Star Trek 6 shouting, “Cry havoc! And let slip the dogs of war!” (I know it’s Shakespeare, but I prefer General Chang to Mark Antony.)

There are others, however, who will have a different approach to this. This is the time when I have to turn to you, Dear Parent, and ask you to look at your feet. Check your balance, for balance is more than just staying on your feet physically, but also staying grounded mentally. Your actions and voice greatly affect the competitors.

Einstein liked to do thought experiments. I want to do one with you now. I’ll set the stage:

You’re a young kid. You’re in a big gymnasium that you’re not familiar with, all suited up in pads, facing a kid you don’t know, and there’s at least one big, tall adult black belt standing there. The kid across from you is going to try to kick and punch you, and you’re going to have to try to do the same to him. All while that big, tall adult is watching you do it. Kinda scary, huh?

Now, think about how it would make you feel if, as soon as the round started, a bunch of strange adults you’ve never met started yelling at the other kid to “HIT HIM!” As a kid, that’s not a good or healthy feeling. Now flip that on its head. It’s your mom or dad yelling at you to hit the other kid. Telling you what to do in the middle of your match while this other kid is trying to hit and kick you. Are you going to be focused? Are you going to do your best? I can tell you from experience that this goes one of two ways:

Me: On my left is the blue fighter Tim! On my right is the red fighter, Erin! Feet and toes together, bow to each other, fighting stances…and…Hajime!

Scenario 1:

Parent: Tim! Block him! Hit him! Hit him! Tim turns his head to see what Mom/Dad are saying so he doesn’t see… Erin landing a kick to his ribs.

Scenario 2:

Parent: Tim! Block him! Hit him! Hit him! Tim and Erin both turn their heads to see what Mom and Dad are saying so I have to stop the round and tell both kids to focus.

Now instead of a five-year-old, consider a kid that is on the spectrum. Granted, I am no child psychologist and I will be diagnosing no one. However, I have seen my share of kids, and a few parents have let us know about their kids when they started with our classes, so I have a bit of experience. Sparring is chaotic. Tournaments, especially with smaller kids, can sometimes seem like barely organized chaos. It’s loud, it’s rowdy, and it can be a blur at times. Now add mid-match instructions shouted from the sidelines and you’re setting them up to fail.

I have yet to have a spectator yelling and coaching like that on the sidelines have their competitor win. I’m sure it has happened ever, but I’ve yet to see it. The worst part of that in my eyes is, the young person loses twice. In their heart, they lose twice. They lost the match, and they lost to their parent. I hate seeing that; all that does is make them more discouraged.

I commend you, Dear Parent, for signing your child up. I commend you further for having them step into the uncomfortable to spar strangers. Life is filled with discomfort and learning how to navigate that in a safe and healthy environment is a key skill. It’s hard to watch your kids fail, especially when you know in your heart they are better than they are performing. But, those are the times they need to fail and to learn from defeat. It builds character. They also have to know that it is safe to fail in front of you, that you are still proud of them for doing a big scary thing (to them) and following it through. Just getting up there is a big step for many. To overcome that fear is a victory in itself.

So please, cheer as loud as you can. When it’s my kids up there, I am cheering too! Just keep it in check. Balance your need for them to do well with their need to try on their own terms.

Sincerely,

Sensei Eric

(Editor’s note: for more on this great topic, read Sean Kinney’s article, How to Be Your Child’s Cornerman: 5 Tips for Parents)