FCS Southern Tigers: Meet Your New Dad
So, I went to the "FCS Family Gathering," as Guro Harold calls it, and it was awesome. Three days of seminars with Tuhon Ray, who is the grand master of the system. We worked in an air-conditioned gym, light contact, slow and smooth.
Nobody got punched in the face.
Nobody vomited.
Nobody was forced to do power training exercises until their muscles failed.
There were guys there who looked like Batman. There were also a lot of people who looked like normal human beings, including a young man in a wheel chair and a not-so-young man with two bad knees and a bad back. Nobody was made to feel like they shouldn't be there. There were modifications for people who needed them. Everyone was given the opportunity to train, including the 15-year-old girl who's three levels above me and rising fast.
Guro Harold opened each day with a thank-you to Tuhon and to all of us for being there. He told us constantly that he was proud of the organization, his students, and our hard work. He recognized all the new belts, as well as students who had completed goals that had nothing to do with martial arts--like the guy who'd taken over his father's restaurant, and the guy who had just completed a master's degree. He made sure everyone met everyone else, and whenever he introduced me, he mentioned that I was about to complete a PhD in statistics, in much the same way my mom used to say "This is my daughter Melinda. She's an honor student."
In other words, we were treated like our Guro's grown children: Adults who could be trusted to work hard without being shamed or bullied into it. We were encouraged to help each other and not compete with each other, and the man who was encouraging us led by example.
I should be writing about double-zeroes and senkotiros, but that's another day. Today, all I'm saying is: You can kick ass without being one. I might buy that domain name.
Nobody got punched in the face.
Nobody vomited.
Nobody was forced to do power training exercises until their muscles failed.
There were guys there who looked like Batman. There were also a lot of people who looked like normal human beings, including a young man in a wheel chair and a not-so-young man with two bad knees and a bad back. Nobody was made to feel like they shouldn't be there. There were modifications for people who needed them. Everyone was given the opportunity to train, including the 15-year-old girl who's three levels above me and rising fast.
Guro Harold opened each day with a thank-you to Tuhon and to all of us for being there. He told us constantly that he was proud of the organization, his students, and our hard work. He recognized all the new belts, as well as students who had completed goals that had nothing to do with martial arts--like the guy who'd taken over his father's restaurant, and the guy who had just completed a master's degree. He made sure everyone met everyone else, and whenever he introduced me, he mentioned that I was about to complete a PhD in statistics, in much the same way my mom used to say "This is my daughter Melinda. She's an honor student."
In other words, we were treated like our Guro's grown children: Adults who could be trusted to work hard without being shamed or bullied into it. We were encouraged to help each other and not compete with each other, and the man who was encouraging us led by example.
I should be writing about double-zeroes and senkotiros, but that's another day. Today, all I'm saying is: You can kick ass without being one. I might buy that domain name.