BaffledExperts by Adam Norman

3: Starting something new, strange, and violent

Judo schools are called dojos, and they are usually owned by a single person, the sensei, who teaches most of the classes. Sometimes sensei want to teach life lessons, what my friend calls the whiter-than-white lessons: how to be a man, succeed in business, or think about the international criminal court. Don’t learn from a sensei like this. Go to a sensei to learn judo. That’s more than enough.

My dojo has been through many phases, and yours may have been too. Several years ago, we had so little money that we practiced on the lawn of a park. After that, we practiced in the most frightening end of town in a Dickensian foundry turned artists’ space, in which there was also a pornographer, a famous artist, and a meth lab. It gave us a certain ghetto cred.

Needless to say, our dojo has never made a profit. In all likelihood, the dojo you choose won’t be a big business either. Judo isn’t very popular. This is good, though; you should be able to speak to the sensei without jumping through hoops, getting attitude, or being made to feel inferior. If you do get a bad vibe, just walk away. Dojos are small, intimate places where your weaknesses will be exposed to people you may know for years. Sooner or later, you’re going to fart on someone’s leg or grab someone’s balls. I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve had a man’s sweaty nipple on my face. These things are embarrassing enough, and there’s no reason to patronize a place that makes you feel out of place from the get-go.

My dojo's classes are about 90 minutes long. The first part is a warm-up, usually a bit of light running and a few pushups and sit ups. It’s not terribly difficult. Next, we usually do some basic techniques, like somersaults, to refresh our memories and loosen up. Then, the class proper begins. We learn a technique and a few variations of it. We wrestle for a while to practice our ground skills, and, then, just before the class ends, we do a little standing competition. The latter two sections, the wrestling and standing fighting, are the most demanding.

Many people incorrectly suppose that martial arts have greatly formalized rules of conduct. I don’t believe that this is generally the case. We do start by bowing to the teacher, but the bow lacks the religious connotation it typically has in Western culture. It is a sign of mutual respect, much like a handshake, but more easily accomplished from the front of the class.

Entering the dojo, we ask that everyone removes her shoes. In Anglo cultures, this is only a little odd, and in Canada, it is quite common to remove one’s shoes when visiting, especially in the winter. I believe that in Japan (and in the dojo), it is a purely practical matter. Many Japanese houses have beautiful straw flooring that would be easily damaged by rough rubber soles. A jjudo dojo has very expensive rubber mats on which people roll around.

We also bow to each other and to the sensei several times throughout the night. When changing partners during practice or after fighting, we usually bow to the partner we are leaving and again to the partner we are joining. Again, this is quite practical and serves to keep the peace. Bowing among Anglos is a gesture of submission, and frankly, a little submissiveness—especially by the victor in a fight—goes a long way in the dojo. It shows respect and gratitude. This is important, as your emotions will at some time or another get the better of you, and you will celebrate your victory or bewail your loss. Excessive exultation can hurt, but so can mopey losing, by making your opponent feel like an unworthy fighter. Bowing to him ends the fight respectfully and as friends.

At the end of the class, we bow one last time to our teacher and to each other, as a gesture of thanks and respect. We then get dressed and go for a beer.

When you begin judo, you may feel a little out of place. Dojos don’t fit well into our normal relationship categories. They are not schools, shops, or dwellings, though they resemble all to some degree. As a result, you may feel that you do not know what role to take, as you cannot be a student, customer, or entirely at home.

If you feel uncomfortable, try cultivating an attitude of respectful self-sufficiency. You should be neither obsequious nor swaggering. You should be happy with yourself, trusting of others, and neither critical of their flaws nor worried about your own.

Like I said, precious little separates a brown belt from a white belt, especially a big, strong, or fit white belt. There is no need to be servile. You’ll be kicking our wrinkled asses soon enough, and we are old enough to know it. Nor, though, should you be pugnacious; for while we may not very good, many of us have spent years learning the obscure trivia and back-of-the-book throws. As a pimply noob, you are no more welcome to blather on about the right way to do things than you would be at a conference of ranch hands. No offense, of course.

If you ever come to doubt yourself though, be open and be confident. You have every right to be.