Dan Shi Martial Arts Club

2nd Dan Thesis

By Eric Willeke
2006

Nearly four years ago I wrote about the pride I felt at having the opportunity to teach others, and the benefits this additional responsibility placed upon my shoulders. It is simply amazing how much and how little has changed over four years. By the rules, I could have tested for my 2nd degree almost two years ago, yet I didn’t. Why not? There are many reasons, and many more excuses. I can blame my life, my situation, my job. I can pass it off as not having other students at my rank. I could say that expectations weren’t clear, or put the blame on my seniors and instructors. I could even call it a sacrifice. Yet those would all be excuses. In reality, it’s all because of the kids.

In the early years of Dan Shi, we had our mission in mind, but we weren’t really pushing towards meeting it yet. We were running a school, but many of the kids at the school didn’t really fit into our mission. They all had parents who cared, and a pretty decent life at home. Some of the families struggled financially, but that alone doesn’t define our mission. When we moved the training downtown to Jireh Sports, it opened up an entirely new world of needs.

The year spent training, bullying, and disciplining the four academy boys was one of the hardest, most draining years of my life. The disappointment I felt each and every time I saw something we’d done eroded by a lack of support from the home and school environments slowly drained my soul. However, this taught me about an entirely new way to care about somebody. For the first time in my life, I found myself unselfishly caring for a person who didn’t care if I lived or died. I found myself desperately wanting to earn enough of their respect that they would listen and learn from me. I don’t know if I made any difference in their lives, but at least one of the boys is doing fairly well now.

The biggest leap came when we started working with IPS school #54. This school is in a very poor part of the city, and opens its doors to some of the most neglected children I’ve ever met. Some of these kids were true beasts, but it was impossible not to open my heart to them. These children’s lives have become very important to me over the two school years I’ve worked with these kids. Some of the children have supportive parents, but those parents don’t see any way out for their kids. Other children I’ve trained for a year, picking them up every Saturday, without ever meeting their parents. Somebody needed to care for these children, showing them that the world doesn’t hate them.

Caring for the children this much carried a cost. Teaching two or three days a week left little time for my own studies. This caused my personal training to suffer greatly. The emotional drain imposed by the contest of wills against some of the children left my passion for the art spent. My own class time became focused on the instructional aspects, and the desire to train outside of class was completely gone. My own advancement as a practitioner of the art halted entirely. I still competed occasionally, but the competition I faced was limited and I was able to carry through on ability. I was not forced to train hard, and I didn’t. My instructor tried to push me, but there was nothing left to push.

Eventually, I ended up essentially taking some time off. For a period of months I did nothing but teach, and while my skills faded, I was able to regain my spirit over an intervening summer. By the fall, I was ready to teach, but also ready to train again. Even better, the four individual students that most drained my spirit were gone, and many of the most enjoyable students from 54 were back. Life was looking up again, and my spirits were high. Over that school year and the next summer, life started really stepping up again. Individual situations always arose, but all and all, everything I did with the students was rewarding. I found myself being pushed by the students; no longer did I have to carry them.

Now, the first glimmers of the 2006-2007 school year’s after school program is coming together. I taught my first class in their new building the day I wrote this section. I left that class smiling, happy, and content. I left that class feeling like I’d just left a gathering of family and friends. The returning students respected me, my other students were “around” the building and stopped to hug me or say hi, and the new students were excited and interested. I went to teach the evening class, and enjoyed spending an hour working with thirteen people I’ve come to know very well, along with five new students in the same class. The dynamics of this group are great, and it all conspires to push me towards improving myself.

This was my journey. I hope it’s nowhere close to over, and I hope it has a vast variety in store for me. Now, however, I know for sure that the journey has meaning. It is no longer about where I end up, but about all of the students I will walk with on the way. I thank God for every opportunity I have to teach another child, and I love every time I see the difference I’ve made in a child’s life. I no longer view time spent teaching as a sacrifice. Instead, I’ve received an incomparable gift, a precious trust that I have earned the right to carry forward and maybe pass on to another someday.