Letting Go: Lessons Learned From Young TCC Students

This is not a presentation on how to teach TCC to children; it just some fun anecdotes.

I read in our community’s monthly newspaper that the elementary school was looking for a martial arts teacher in an after-school enrichment program. My first thoughts were: 1.) Kids don’t need to be learning martial arts. TCC is much more beneficial; and 2.) Most of my TCC students have been 50ish and older. It would be fun to teach kids.

My immediate vision included a group of 20-30 elementary children who, through TCC practice, show marked changes in behavior and become role models for other children who now want to learn TCC. Then within five years the entire school system would be practicing TCC. The school would become a model for other schools; TCC would spread through the public school systems. What an ego.

I called the principal, gave a brief explanation, and during our meeting, she loved the concept of TCC versus martial arts. Within 10 minutes, we are talking about the details of classes (the number of days, time, fees). The school went all out promoting the TCC afterschool enrichment classes. I was psyched.

Then a little panic set in. It’s been 25 years since I’d taught groups of young children. I needed advice. I remembered that [New Mexico TCC Teacher] Judy Hendricks had made a presentation at a conference about teaching elementary school children. I emailed Judy, who responded immediately with written material and phone conversations. With her guidance, I felt prepared.

Registration forms showed two first graders and six second graders (2 boys and 6 girls) had enrolled. Flyers were directed to grades one through five, so I was surprised to have all little ones. No problem.

First class: Because the after school program was immediately after school, the principal suggested a short snack period before the class started. I met the kids in the hall as instructed and our little group walked together to the cafeteria where we sat on the steps of the stage for snack time. Judy advised me to greet each child individually for each class and to look them in the eye while doing so. They were so cute. They also sized me up while gobbling their snacks.

Then the chaos began. When the first student finished her snack she began running back and forth on the stage. Despite my efforts at control, the stage became a play ground for everyone dancing, twirling, sliding across the floor and doing karate kicks. Judy also advised that children enter the classroom silently and begin classes silently. This wasn’t going to happen.

I finally got everyone’s attention, to stand where I wanted so I could give the “rules.” There was still some chopping and kicking going on, so I explained that TCC was not about punching and breaking boards. “My mom lied,” was an immediate response from many.

I said, “TCC is about being powerful, but we don’t need to kick and punch to be powerful. How are some ways we can be powerful?” Lots of waving of hands were raised. Sarah held her hand high and steady with confidence and said with great poise, “When a whole bunch of people get together and decide to do something together, that’s powerful.” I pause to take in this profound answer; I know who is going to be the leader of this class and it was not going to be me. Sarah was definitely the alpha dog. All the children had similar stories of how being powerful involved helping others. I was impressed.

At the end of the class, Becky took a deep bow and said Namaste. Becky takes yoga, and so I explained what Namaste means. Everyone bowed and the class ended with a spontaneous group hug.

Our schedule called for 10 classes meeting twice a week. I never gained the calm control and discipline I imagined for the group. But I let go of an image of myself as Miyagi from the Karate Kid, gaining the children’s rapt attention and admiration.

I employed some maneuvers. I allowed exercise time immediately after the snacks; students took turns leading the exercises. After we practiced a movement, I asked a student to come to the front and lead a movement with me. They wanted to show off that they knew it. Since they didn’t have a sense of personal space, I used tape to make Xs on the floor to show them where to stand. This helped some.

I was never able to engage Brian, a boy who wears goggle style glasses with a strap that holds them in place. Brian cannot hold still for more than 30 seconds. The principal suggested that I use tape a box around his X to help him know his boundaries. I did so with reluctance; it turned out to be “The Box” that no one wanted to stand in. I was determined that TCC was going to help Brain be calmer, more focused, that it would be his savior. I had to let go of this vision I had for him.

As I let go of my expectations of myself as the perfect teacher, I relaxed had some fun. I let go of my expectation for the performance of the children. I saw that they were learning the more simple movements I had chosen. They were not as coordinated as I thought and did not always move with continuity, but that was alright. Tiny 7-year-old Isabel was the exception; she moved with the softness and grace of a floating butterfly.

The children liked to rename the movements. What would Justin think? I let go of the formality and let them enjoy using their imagination. For example: Rocking Motion became Planting Flowers; Around the Platter became Pick Up the Potato and Put It In the Pot.

Thinking it would be an incentive for them to pay better attention, I asked if they’d like to perform for their families at the last class. They were very excited and it helped their motivation a little. When 25 family members arrived, to my utter amazement, the children walked with great pomp and circumstance onto the stage, lined up, and stepped forward to introduce themselves. I offered few words to explain TCC.

With the students on the stage, I stood on the ground level with my back to the audience. As we moved through eight movements, my chin dropped lower and lower. Where were the children I had been working with? These children – even Brian – were doing TCC movements. Not perfectly of course, put they were doing it. The principal later told me that she could see my face struggling not to burst out in laughter. We did Cosmic Consciousness Pose (now called Making a Wish), and they enjoyed the drama of holding this pose and then with a very deep bow said, Namaste. The audience erupted into applause and we all laughed.

The principal and I will begin classes again the next school term. The middle school athletic coach expressed interest in having classes for his teams. Maybe that initial vision could really happen after all. I saw 8-year-old Christy at a community event recently. She gave me a hug and said she was looking forward to taking classes again in the Fall. She’ll be in the third grade then.