E.P.R.

(not to be confused with CPR, PMS or RIP)

What horses are really good at is knowing what happens before what happens, happens. In fact, they’re masters at it. Sometimes, it’s amazing.

Here’s an example. To “direct rein” means to pull on the rein on the side toward which you would like the horse to turn.  To “neck rein” means you move the rein on the opposite side so it just touches the horse’s neck. Everyone uses "direct rein" first because it’s an “obvious” continuation of leading a horse on the ground: where the lead rope pulls, the horse follows.

To make the transition to “neck reining,” you start by laying the opposite rein on the horse’s neck a fraction of a second before applying the direct rein.

What the horse quickly figures out is that the neck rein is what happens before the direct rein that happens, happens. Anticipating the direct rein, the horse responds to the indirect rein. Once he does that, you can discard the direct rein and just neck rein. Voila!

Knowing what happens before what happens, happens, we like to call “early pattern-recognition" (or E.P.R., when we want to sound arcane and very scientific).

Here’s another example of what we mean. Those of you who are students of other martial arts may have heard this story in another incarnation. It goes like this:

Once there was a young man who wanted to become a great swordsman. To this end he went about challenging various fencing masters to contests of skill. When he found one he could not beat, he stayed with that master and studied with him until he could beat him. Then, he’d move on to another. And another…

Finally, he challenged the elderly “master of all masters” to a contest.

They met at the appointed hour and ground.

No sooner had they come “en guard,” than the old Maitre d’Armes stepped back and said, “If you attack by cut to my head, I’ll counter with a side step and thrust to your heart.”

This stunned the younger man, and struck him as a very odd coincidence indeed, because attacking by a cut to the head was exactly what he’d been thinking of doing.

Again they stood to their guards.

Immediately, the old man stepped back and said, “If you thrust at my wrist, I’ll prise du fer and counter with a thrust to your face.”

Once again, this stunned the younger man, and struck him as a very odd coincidence indeed, because attacking with a thrust to the swordmaster’s wrist was exactly what he’d been thinking of doing.

And so it went.

Each time they came on guard, the Maitre would step back and politely say, “If you do A, I’ll counter with B…”

After a short time, the younger man was so completely unnerved, that he lay down his sword and begged the Master to accept him as a student.

There’s quite a bit to this story. Part of it has to do with how your subconscious mind immediately and indiscriminently acts to obey the conscious mind (SEE: Psycho-cybernetics by Maxwell Maltz, the godfather of sport psychology).

Another part has to do with ways of knowing, in particular the cognitive vis a vis the intuitive.

But for the moment, the important element of the story is that the master knew what happened before what happened, happened.  He knew what his opponent was going to do before his opponent did it – perhaps even before his opponent knew it, himself.

That is, the Master was able to recognize in his opponent’s subtle body language and expression, his opponent’s intent. The wiley old gent was reading “cues” (or, as poker-players call them, “tells” ).  Boxers call it “telegraphing” a punch.

These combat cues are, to a greater or lesser degree, subtle but unavoidable and largely invisible to the person making them.  Indeed, we spend a fair amount of time making them visible to ourselves so that we can either eliminate them, insofar as can be done, or to USE them for misdirection. (“All combat is based on deception”. –Sun-tze)

The best cues are those that are integral to the intended action, ie, the intended action cannot be executed without first doing the “cue” action.

Cutting blows are a good example.

All cuts, to be effective, must first gather up energy and then release energy. One prepares or “winds up” the cut, and then delivers or executes the blow. It cannot be done in any other way.  Therefore, the wind-up is what happens before what happens (the cut) happens.

However, the wind-up itself can be broken down into small segments and the sooner you recognize the characteristic sine qua non of that preparatory action, the earlier you can respond.

That’s what we mean by early pattern recognition.

Another example:

A guy goes for the gun under his coat at his right hip. This action has a universally recognized crouch. It isn’t anything else. Nobody reaches into a pocket that way. Nobody goes for a wallet that way. Nobody scratches a mosquito bite that way. So when you see that action start, you respond in whatever way you’re going to respond: duck, dodge, run, or try to beat him to the draw. You don’t have to wait until the fellow draws his gun and aims it at your nose and pulls the trigger before you say, “Hmm. He wants to shoot me.”   Better to recognize the pattern earlier than later.

Perhaps more than anything else, early pattern recognition – sometimes incredibly early --is the mark of a master. It’s the fighter’s best stock in trade.  If your training doesn’t cultivate this capacity, I recommend you change your training so that it does.

Hold it Like a Little Bird...

A picture from this past week. First day holding the foil.

Setting the Stage

The first time I ever observed Maitre Crown teach a foil class, he did something that I found amazing, at the time.

It was one of an introductory series of classes, held in a gymnasium at the local recreation center.

There were somewhere between 20-30 children in the class. A large group.

The age range appeared to be from about 7 to maybe 12 or 13, as I recall.

At the beginning of the class, as they arrived, the children all went and sat in a line, and waited for the Fencing Master.

There may have been a little quiet conversation, but when the Master arrived, all conversation immediately stopped, and each child turned his or her focus to the beginning of the class.

Throughout the class, there was no side conversation. There was no fidgeting, fiddling or wiggling. Every person in the room stayed engaged and focused on the task at hand.

A gymnasium. Full of children. Quiet children. Focused. Not running around.

How does he DO that?!?

I had only three kids myself, and I couldn't get them to behave like that!!

I was amazed. Intrigued.

Little did I know, at the time, that the "secret" to this incredible situation was very, very simple.

Set the stage.

Most people, children especially, want to do what is expected of them, most of the time.

In order to do that, they need to know what it is.

In order to know what that is, what you say, what you do, and what happens in class all need to reinforce each other.

Say what you mean.

Mean what you say.

And make sure they know that you do.

The world is full of people who don't really mean what they say. The dominant culture in many places, and certainly in the United States, strongly encourages "little white lies" as a matter of course. Right from the ubiquitous "How are you?" being followed by "fine, thanks" no matter what the reality is. And on top of that, adults, or people in positions of authority, often seem to believe that they have no obligation to be honest with those in their charge, or under their care.

That is, I believe, to put it mildly: bullshit.

But it is, unfortunately, what most people have come to expect, much of the time.

So the biggest task I have, starting a new class, is to demonstrate that in this place, in our classes, the world is different. The standard of behavior is much higher than it might be elsewhere.

It starts with my preparation for the class. I make sure to have everything with me that I need, in an organized fashion. I arrive early and make sure the space is prepared. I meet the new students at the door, introduce myself, and ask for their name. I tell them exactly what I want them to do, where I want them to sit, and that they may converse quietly until class begins. I start the class precisely on time.

In the first class of a new series of classes, we take care to explain our rules. We also explain that we never make a rule we don't need, and never make a rule we don't enforce.

Our primary rules are simple:

1. Never aim a weapon at anyone who is not wearing a mask.

2. No talking during class, unless you are asking the instructor a question, or are answering one. There will be plenty of opportunities for questions.

3. Do what we ask you to do, when we ask you to do it, how we ask you to do it, and DON'T DO ANYTHING ELSE. We will be sure to be clear and specific about what, when and how we want you to do things.

After explaining these rules, we ask the students if they understand and agree to them. Often, we will ask each individual student to personally, verbally, agree to the rules, with a handshake.

We also specifically tell the students that they are expected to behave courteously at all times. I would hope that this would be unnecessary, but unfortunately, it seems not to be. Often, we have to explain what "courteously" means, with examples.

For the rest of that first class, we are especially observant for ANY infraction of the rules. There can't be any infraction of that first rule, as there won't be any weapons in students' hands, so we are looking for the first time someone talks to their neighbor, or the first time someone starts fidgeting or pretending to swordfight, or whatever extraneous movement there happens to be. There is always something. My job (or my assistant's job) is to catch it.

This is CRITICALLY important:

The FIRST time anyone breaks a rule, no matter how slight the infraction, they are corrected. Immediately. Sharply- although not harshly. They are reminded of the rule that they specifically agreed to. They may be asked to sit out to collect themselves, if the cause of the infraction is that they are unable to maintain their focus for some reason.

Then the class continues.

There is no continued sharpness towards the student- the expectation is that once corrected, they will understand that we weren't kidding, and they will strive to behave accordingly. If they have been asked to sit out, once they have a chance to refocus, they are invited back into the exercise. Usually, this will be after one set of repetitions of whatever we're working on.

In order to be most effective, it must be the FIRST infraction, no matter how small, with no "second chances." This may feel harsh, until you are accustomed to it, but it isn't. It's CLEAR.

Both halves of the correction are equally important: that it be immediate and sharp, and that there be NO continued sharpness from the instructor, no grudges. It isn't about punishment, it's about changing the behavior. Once a student's behavior is appropriate, they are in as good graces as they were before the infraction. It's not personal, at all. It's about safety, not about ego.

With most classes, that first correction is enough to get their attention, to convey that the environment in this class is different from elsewhere in their lives, and they have no trouble adjusting, since they understand and agree to the rules upfront. If the class has a high proportion of younger students, it may take another reminder or two- and that is what it is, a reminder. By the end of the first class the students understand what we expect of them. By the end of the second class, at the latest, they understand that we really mean it, and there are no more infractions.

At the close of every class, we always thank the students for being there, and for the hard work they have put into the class. If necessary, if a student who was corrected seems to have trouble, or feel embarrassed or otherwise traumatized, I might sometimes speak to him or her individually after the class, to tell them they did a great job in class. I want to reinforce that there are no hard feelings, that as soon as the incident is over, it's over.

We don't have "behavior problems" in our classes.

We simply don't allow it.

Before we can put weapons into the hands of a gymnasium full of students, often children, we must KNOW that they will behave appropriately and safely.

We have very rarely had to take the step of asking someone to leave.

We cannot allow a student in the class who will behave in unsafe ways and endanger themselves or the other students.

After the introductory series of classes, when students elect to continue studying with us, we are all able to be more relaxed, and less formal, since everyone already understands and follows the rules. I prefer to be less formal with my students, when possible. I occasionally need to remind them- and myself- not to get TOO relaxed when we're working, but for the most part, it's really not an issue after that first series of classes.

All of this, in my opinion, is very simple, and very obvious- now that I know it.

It is also very effective.

It is especially so once I learned to manage the hard/soft correction, of immediate and sharp, followed by no hard feelings, and when I learned how to be strong, clear and to the point WITHOUT being harsh, mean, or a drill sargeant. Too many people equate "discipline" with "punishment," and they are not only not the same, but not even related. On the flipside, people equate "permissiveness" with "friendly and likeable," and those are not related, either.

Perhaps you also find it obvious. So obvious that you are wondering why I bothered to write about it.

The thing is, I have taken many classes, in different subjects, in different places, taught by many different teachers.

Most classes I have been a student in have had frequent side conversations, or other instances of a lack of attention, and/or a lack of respect for the teacher. I hear stories all the time of classes where students have to be told not to use their cellphones, or where half the class is frustrated because the other half is being disruptive. I've observed classes full of children who run wild, where little learning takes place, and where students have been injured.

As obvious as it is that setting the stage from the first moment (by modeling the expected behavior, and by explaining the rules upfront) creates an environment where learning can take place safely and enjoyably, I have rarely had a teacher who actually does that effectively.

Education of a Swordsman

The word “educate” comes from the Latin “duco, ducere,” meaning “to lead.”

(Not “to push.”)

“E” plus “ducere,” means “to lead forth.”

To be an educator doesn’t mean pounding information IN to your students, but rather to lead forth from them what they really already know. They just don’t know that they know it.

The qualities that make a good leader also make a good teacher:

      

• Competence – you have to know what you’re talking about.  You can’t fake it.
      
• Confidence – you have to know that you know what you’re talking about. You must have confidence in yourself AND confidence in your student’s ability to achieve excellence.
      
• Communication  – this is certainly the core skill of the teacher. It’s the ability to use verbal, para-verbal and non-verbal elements to effectively send your message. “Effectively” means that the receiver understood the message the way you intended it. If the receiver doesn’t “get it” then you didn’t communicate it.
      
• Humility – acknowledging that you don’t know all the answers, and you sometimes make mistakes, like anyone else-- but you immediately own up to it when you do.
      
• Patience – things take the time they take. You plant your garden in the Spring; you harvest in the Fall.  If you plant your garden in August, you’re not going to harvest much in October, no matter how much time you spend weeding, watering or swearing.
  It takes the time it takes and there’s nothing you can do to force it.
  (Incidentally, I recommend you plant a garden just to stay connected to this natural law.)
  
        
  Each student is a unique individual who enters into unique relationships with the world as he/she perceives it. Each has a unique spirit, a unique heart, and a unique way of learning. No matter how “alike” two people may be, they will still be different.  And yet, no matter how different two people are, there will still be similarities. (One of those “paradoxes” I love).  As a teacher, you have to figure out what’s the same and what’s different.
      
• Flexibility – One of my favorite maxims is: When the only tool you have is a hammer, you tend to treat everything as if it were a nail.  If the only tool you have is a hammer, you can hammer in the morning, in the evening and hammer all over this land, but you’re still not going to be much of a carpenter.
  Imagine a carpenter coming to build your house and the only tool he brings is a hammer. There are some boards that need shortening and he proceeds to start whacking them with his hammer.  You ask if a saw might not be a better tool for that job.
  “I’m a hammer man,” he replies. “My dad was a hammer man, and his dad before him. I come from a long line of hammer men. Further, I’ve dedicated my life to hammer. I’ve studied with all the greatest hammer men alive. I’ve studied all the hammer books left to us by the great masters of the hammer. The hammer is the best tool there is. It’s the only tool I need. Um, better step back, splinters are going to be flying…”
  As a fighter, my job is to defeat my opponent, utterly and completely. I’m not emotionally involved in what tool I use to do that. If it means a punch, a kick, a club, a knife or a gun, it’s all the same to me. I’ll use whatever tool I need to get the job done. As a teacher, my job is to provide opportunities for my students to cultivate excellence and I’ll use whatever tool I need to get that job done. It’s all the same to me. I’m not emotionally involved with any particular tool.

What do I mean by “cultivate excellence?”

What does that have to do with teaching fencing?

Good question.

Well, I’m not really teaching “fencing.”

I don’t care if any of my students ever “win” a fencing trophy.

If I were about that, then I would just be a “coach.”

What I’m concerned with is what kind of people my students will become, and what kind of world they will make.

The sword is the vehicle I use to illustrate some fundamental truths that, because they ARE fundamental, are also evident in a broad range of other areas, from psychology to politics to interpersonal and business relationships.

I endeavor to set the stage so that my students will have certain experiences. In struggling to understand those experiences and to ascribe them meaning and value, they will wrestle with making choices. The choices they make will determine who they will become.

I can’t make them choose anything in particular.

All I can do is advise. Counsel. Encourage.

Sometimes they make choices that make my heart soar.

Sometime they make choices that make my heart sore.

Goes with the job.

First Blood?

Another quick bonus post.

Picture from Friday's class.

First time, sword in hand.

Guest Post: Why Do I Teach?

It's my privilege and pleasure to offer you a little something from a long-time and much beloved brother-in-arms.
He's an actor, screenwriter, film-maker (you may have seen his superb documentary AMERICAN JOUSTER), musician, swordsman and for many years a jouster at the various and ever-popular "renaissance faires" around the country.
He's trained other "knights" for the shows and even trained some of the real stars --- the horses!


aac




Why do I teach?

 by Richard P. Alvarez


It is certainly not for the money.

I’ve recently started teaching again. A small group of my son’s friends – eight to be exact – requested I teach them classical foil and saber. The token fees they pay go to cover the use of the gym facility – I don’t make a dime.

So why do I do it? Probably for the same reasons that any teacher faces a student.

“We teach best, that which we most need to learn” – Richard Bach, from “Illusions.” Does this mean that I need to learn the basics of classical fencing? Well yes and no. Certainly I’ve acquired the knowledge of how to perform the basic movements years ago – and I have a shelf of dusty old volumes that outline various approaches to teaching them.

But the actual experience of imparting that knowledge to someone who has never experienced it – allows me to experience it anew. It forces me to see it fresh from their perspective - A perspective that I might not share or even be capable of imagining. And the struggle that they exhibit, along with the delight in their eyes when they ‘get it’ is a simple delight that I never tire of. So call it a ‘contact high’ if you will.

Teaching is not a recitation of known paradigms; it is an exploration into preconceived notions, and an illumination of hidden reservoirs of strengths. No area is off limits. The effort to find a metaphor that the student can relate to – pushes my own concept and understanding of a principle into areas I hadn’t even considered.  I can find metaphors in music, dance, most other martial arts and even driving a car.

“Do you drive a car?” The usual answer is yes.

“How long is it? How wide?” - I’ve never met someone who actually knows in inches the exact wheelbase of the car they drive.

“And yet, you know when you eyeball a parking space, if it will fit. You know where the tires are, underneath you. You know where the back bumper is, because hours and hours of sitting in that car has made it an EXTENSION of your body. When you get behind the wheel of a strange vehicle – you have difficulty making those judgments. It takes many hours to make the car an extension of your body. It’s going to take many, MANY hours to make the blade an extension of your arm.”

“AH” the light goes on in their eyes. And so they have come to an understanding of ‘sentiment du fer’  Sure, they get it. It’s not going to come easy. They won’t master this move in a few lessons. But if they work at it they will get better.

All of the Maitre’ des Arms I have had the privilege of studying with have been very creative souls. They were musicians, artists, mimes and quite often highly trained military men with combat experience as well. I loved learning what they had to share, because they loved SHARING it.

Knowing that I’m imparting knowledge to someone else, along with at least a little of the love I have for the art – gives me a sense of accomplishment. Planting seeds is a way to create. Planting the seed of knowledge is a form of creativity.

I teach because it’s one more outlet for my creativity. And we are closest to our highest, our truest natures when we are creating.

Keeping the Distance

A little bonus post today. Pictures from this morning's class. Brand new students, working on learning to keep the distance. This is their first time working with a partner.

They are holding 1/2" diameter dowels that are four feet long. The dowels serve to give them a reference for the distance they are trying to keep, and also give them immediate tactile feedback, rather than having only visual feedback to know if they are successful.