mentor

Being a better training partner

This past weekend, I was helping with my daughter’s jiu-jitsu class and, when it was time to roll (sparring in jiu-jitsu), I picked out a couple of kids I wanted her to work with. These two girls in particular are both new, but have been pointed out as having a lot of grit and a lot of potential. I put them with my daughter because she has been training for a long time and has become skilled enough to handle tough kids her age, but she is also a thoughtful, helpful training partner. 

My expectation, which I mistakenly did not communicate to my daughter, was that she skillfully, but mercifully submit the other kids. I did not want her to do this for the sake of winning or exerting dominance, but as a way of showing them that jiu-jitsu works, that an otherwise sweet young girl can develop effective fighting skills, and that you don’t have to injure someone in order to control and defeat them. But that’s not what happened. Instead, she just laid there in her guard and let them work. 

This is not an uncommon thing in jiu-jitsu when people are working on static drills meant to develop new skills, but this is not how rolling is supposed to work. Rolling is supposed to be live practice against real resistance. Instead of being skilled, my daughter was being nice. It’s hard to fault her for it, but truth be told, no one involved got better at jiu-jitsu because of it. 

On the ride home after class, we had a long talk. I explained to her why I paired her up specifically with these two girls. I told her that I wanted them to experience good jiu-jitsu done with thoughtfulness and care because I know that she is capable of that. I also explained that, by not trying, she did these girls a great disservice. 

By her not trying, these girls weren’t challenged, and it’s our challenges that make us better, stronger, and more resilient. Whereas she thought that she was doing them a favor by letting them work, she had actually robbed them of the opportunity to experience jiu-jitsu as it can be. Instead of inspiring them, she gave them a false sense of confidence. 

I did my best to explain this from a place of compassion and understanding. I know that she is a kind, caring girl and doesn’t like to hurt anyone. She most likely thought she was being nice. The problem with this, however, is that it didn’t help anyone improve and, ultimately, we are in jiu-jitsu to help each other improve. 

Without good training partners who are both tough and trustworthy, jiu-jitsu is kind of an empty practice. It is our partners and the skillful resistance they give us that brings out our skills and pushes us to strive for improvement. Without the tension created by good training partners, we stagnate and training becomes pointless. 

It is her job as their senior, I explained, to push them her partners’ growth. It is the senior student’s role to give their juniors enough resistance that they have to get better, but not so much that they can’t. The goal isn’t simply to beat them and it is especially not to humiliate them. Rather, the goal is to show them what is possible and to lead them by example in that direction. 

As with most lessons I try to teach my daughter, however, she wasn’t the only one who needed to hear this. As the words came out of my mouth, all of the times I was a lazy, passive, and apathetic training partner flashed through my mind. I needed to hear all of this as much as I needed to say it to her. 

In fact, a couple of years ago, a friend of mine with whom I do jiu-jitsu said something quite similar to me as I was saying to my daughter. He approached me after practice one night and said, “There are people who train here who have never felt your real skills and your top pressure, and you are doing them a disservice.” Confused, I asked him what he meant. He replied, “It’s cool that you want to work on your weaknesses and I know you are trying to be nice, but you are giving these folks a false sense of confidence. You are allowing them to believe they are better than they are. They don’t know what it feels like when you roll with intention and really put it on them, and they should. They need to know. They need to know as a student what you are capable of, but they also need to know, through your example, what is possible.” 

Once again, fatherhood proved to be a reflection upon my life and my character. It is the mirror I was incapable of staring into until this little blessing of a child came along. Much like I wanted her to do with her training partners, she pushes me to be better. She forces me to look at my own deficiencies and makes me question what I thought I knew about myself and my place in this world, and her presence does this, not in a way that is humiliating or demoralizing, but that feels true and generous. 

We are not islands unto ourselves. We have to have other people in our lives who are going to push us to become our best selves, and we have to do the same for others. This is what community is for. We are not here to lie down and let others walk all over us. Nor are we here to trample and take advantage of the weak. We were put on this earth together so that we can lovingly and thoughtfully push each other to be better, and to help those who cannot help themselves. 

Robert Van Valkenburgh
Grappling With Divinity

To read my poetry and shorter writing, please visit Meditations of a Gentle Warrior and subscribe to receive my daily meditations in your inbox. 

Don’t touch the stove

A manager of mine once told me that managing people is a lot like raising children. At the time, I didn’t have any children, but he was a good, sincere man and a very important mentor for me, so I took his word for it. He explained that, while many employees would be great and should be treated accordingly, there would always be people who would test the limits of my patience and kindness. 

“Some people are going to see how far they can go before getting in trouble,” he explained. “They are like a child reaching out to touch a hot stove. At first, you say in a stern, but kind way, ‘Please don’t touch the stove. It’s hot. It will burn you.’ But they keep reaching for the stove. So now your tone changes, becoming harsher, ‘I said don’t touch the stove. It’s hot. It will burn you.’ But their hand gets closer still. Now, you are getting frustrated because your attempts to be kind are being ignored. ‘Hey!’ you exclaim, ‘I told you not to touch the stove! You’re going to get burned!’ In spite of this, they just keep reaching for it. Finally, you realize that you are wasting your breath. You have done and said everything you can to help them, but they simply will not be helped. Discouraged and annoyed, you say, ‘Fine. Touch the stove. See what happens, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.'” 

Not only was he right that some employees are just this stubborn and defiant, but he was also right that parenting is also like this from time to time. Some people simply need to learn the hard way. They need to get burned before they will believe the stove is hot. For whatever reason, they are unwilling or unable to learn from the mistakes of others. They have to touch the stove themselves. 

Unfortunately, all too often, I’m “some people.” In an attempt to guide me in the right direction and to save me from unnecessary suffering, God gives me all sorts of warning signs. Like a loving father raising a stubborn child, he tries to teach me how to live a good life, but I resist, insisting that I can do things my way. He tells me that my ways are flawed, to trust him, and that he will not lead me astray, but my pride and selfishness frequently stop me from hearing him. 

I keep pushing until he finally says, “Fine. Touch the stove. See what happens, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Inevitably, I get burned and then turn to him for help. And like a loving father, he is always there to comfort and teach me when I am willing to listen, even if sometimes he lets me feel the pain I caused myself a little longer than I would like. 

God does not save us from the consequences of our actions. We have to live with them. That is our cross to bear. He does love us enough, however, to try to warn us before we choose poorly, but we don’t always listen. So often, we exercise our free will by pushing the boundaries of his grace and breaking his heart. And yet, if we repent, if we turn back to God, we will be forgiven and welcomed home like a runaway child because he wants nothing more than for us to choose him like he has chosen us. 

Robert Van Valkenburgh
Grappling With Divinity

To read my poetry and shorter writing, please visit Meditations of a Gentle Warrior and subscribe to receive my daily meditations in your inbox.