It isn’t easy teaching Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu. Not if you want to do a good job and be of value to your students. I used to do a good job and I like to think I’ve been of value. As of late? Not so much and in this post, I’ll tell you why.
To start, I’ll tell you that I’ve been teaching jiu-jitsu since 2017 when I earned my brown belt. One of our black belts was currently teaching the Tuesday night slot and he didn’t want to anymore. He handed it off to me and I was only too happy to accept the challenge. I remember those early days well. I studied technique and tips for hours and took not only what I conveyed to my students very seriously, but how I conveyed it seriously as well. I was most likely too intricate and detailed in those days. I’ve since become much more blunt. I’ll let you know why down below.
I’m also a volunteer. I don’t get paid. I teach BJJ for the love of the sport and for the smiles I see on the faces of those who would like to learn. If I was paid for what I do, I’m sure I would have left a long time ago. Volunteering is a unique beast and it’s something people do with much more ease than their paid counterparts.
Location & Culture
The first challenge with teaching jiu-jitsu has to do with where you’re teaching and what the student preferences are in that particular area. I think I’ve mentioned this in a few past posts, but location and culture in a teaching area matters a ton. Back when I was training in Connecticut, I quickly noticed that the culture was primarily a judo-centric one, which fit me well because I’m somewhat tall. Judo uses the gi for throws and when it comes to initiating those throws, tall works well much of the time. Shorter guys prefer a no-gi wrestling style because it’s conducive for shooting for the legs. In judo, it’s oftentimes beneficial to first crowd the opponent from the top and then scoot under for the throw. While there were certainly many wrestling aficionados in the state of Connecticut, I think more folks were favorable to judo.
I don’t think Maine likes judo. I think Maine players like wrestling a lot more. They also seem to gravitate towards some sort of MMA training. I have difficulty with that when attempting to teach because so many of my students up here come from wrestling backgrounds and have dreams of learning MMA. And because I prefer the judo lifestyle because I’m tall and my skinny legged knees are weak, I also prefer wearing the gi. I suspect most of my students prefer wearing rash guards instead. This isn’t to say that I don’t enjoy rolling no-gi as much as the next guy does, it’s just that I prefer teaching while using the gi as a tool. So as you might guess, if my students prefer wearing rash guards as opposed to gis, that can cause a disconnect.
Body Style
If you’ve ever taught jiu-jitsu, I’m sure you’ve noticed the difficulty with teaching those with varying body styles. It’s a challenge to convey the points you’re attempting to convey. I’m 6’3″ and weigh about 200 pounds. I have a certain rolling style and really have no problems transferring my knowledge to anyone who’s in proportion to the way my body looks and behaves. I suspect the following conundrum is experienced by many instructors; let’s say you’re a five foot tall black belt who weighs 150 pounds. Through the years, you’ve surely defined and have nearly perfected your game. If you were to offer a five foot tall student who weighs the same as you a private lesson, that student would walk away after the lesson with a huge amount of immediately executable knowledge. Now let’s say your student isn’t a 150 pound five footer. Let’s say your student is 6’7″ and weighs 480 pounds. What the heck are you going to teach him or her? Not much, that’s what. And the shame of it is that you’re going to feel horrible about that. As if you’re doing something wrong. As if your knowledge of jiu-jitsu somehow isn’t deep enough.
Of course, if you put enough work into it, you can surely discover the best way to convey your knowledge to this taller and heavier student. But again, you’ll need to really work at that. And with a volunteer’s salary, the work ain’t happening any time soon.
I can easily execute and teach a triangle from mount. In order to complete this submission, the top player’s legs need to be pretty thin. I have many students who have thick legs. They can’t finish the triangle. This frustrates me because they aren’t succeeding when I want them to.
I can easily execute a D’Arce (darce, Darce, D’arce) choke because my arms are fairly long and relatively thin when compared to some of the stronger dudes in my classes. Many of my students can’t reach far enough to complete the choke. Again, this frustrates me because if these guys can’t finish the choke, they’ll obviously never use it. I’m sure I can do the research to learn and teach these two chokes so everyone can benefit, but that’s going to take a lot of time and practice. Time, I unfortunately don’t have much of. I don’t mean to sound like I won’t put the time into properly teaching, it’s just that my volunteer time competes heavily with the time I spend earning a living. There are only so many hours in the day and I can’t forgo real money for one of my hobbies. That’s not prudent and I don’t think any rational person would say it is.
Skill Level
The very first jiu-jitsu club at which I trained was a small one. There were maybe 10 students at any given time. And like many jiu-jitsu clubs, students came and students went. I remember the owner of the school’s excitement every time he recruited a new student. While he was thrilled, I felt dread. I once said to a fellow student, “If we have to learn the armbar from guard one more time, I’m going to freak out!” Today, I understand what my instructor was up against. It’s quite challenging to move onto more advanced material while receiving blank stares from newer students as I review basic material. It’s easy to fall into the cycle of, “Okay guys, we’re going to go over escapes from side control…again…because we’ve got a few new people in class.” I can almost hear the sighs coming from the more mature students. All the way from my house.
The real issue is that many jiu-jitsu academies aren’t large enough to hold basic, intermediate, and advanced classes. Everyone is shoved onto the same mats, no matter their skill level. While this is fine for the lower belts because they don’t know any better, the upper belts truly suffer. And I dare say the instructors suffer most because they’re the ones who feel the guilt of not moving on. It sort of leads to a downward spiral, which I’ll discuss in the next two sections.
Small Class Size
When I walk into the gym and there are fewer than 10 students in my class, I want to walk right back out and save my lesson for a time when more students can show up. What did I prepare for? Who did I prepare for? And what am I supposed to do after I use up that lesson on the few students who did manage to show up? I can’t use it again, so it makes its way into the abyss. It’s such a waste, but one of my own making. I’m sure my classes would be larger if I put more time into their preparation and their instruction. But because of the reasons I outlined above, my hands are figuratively tied.
It’s a conundrum or sorts. If few people come to my classes, I don’t put time into the lessons, which makes even fewer people come. But then if I put the proper time and effort into my class preparation and few people decide to attend, I don’t have the opportunity to use that preparation on the masses. I don’t know. I’m at a loss.
Burnout
The God’s honest truth is that I’m tired and am getting bored of jiu-jitsu as a whole. While I was once obsessed with learning the sport, I’ve come to discover that the world of this martial art isn’t actually as large as I initially thought it was. A person can regularly train for only a year and become very proficient, meaning, they could hold their ground against more than half the population who might threaten them. At the time of this writing, I’ve been practicing regularly for 17 years. While there’s much to learn, even for me, I don’t care to learn it. I’m good enough. I began beating black belts back when I was a purple belt. It was then that I realized the futility of it. The moment I began teaching, I also began attending a mere one class per week – my own. I’d teach and then roll for about six or seven matches and leave until the next week came around. This routine, if allowed to repeat long enough, is bound to drive anyone crazy. It boils down to this; each Tuesday I search YouTube for a technique that relates to the prior week’s. That’s it. I primarily rely on my innate knowledge to fill in the gaps. I attend class and teach that move. It’s mentally exhausting because I feel like I’ve been going in circles since I began teaching. Each Tuesday, I ask myself, “Gee, Jay, will you teach side escapes, arm bars, or chokes from mount tonight? Which one will it be?” Yes, there are other topics in which to delve, but they’re just as circular and boring as the ones I just described. I suspect this is called burnout.
The following definition pretty much sums it up:
Being burned out means feeling empty and mentally exhausted, devoid of motivation, and beyond caring. People experiencing burnout often don’t see any hope of positive change in their situations. If excessive stress feels like you’re drowning in responsibilities, burnout is a sense of being all dried up.
Imagine teaching karate katas for eight years. Yeah, that’s what I mean. You’d eventually jump off a cliff.
Pay
I know I mentioned above that if I were paid to teach, I would have left long ago. That was only half true. A more accurate statement would be, if I were to be paid a pittance, I would have left long ago. If I were to be paid well, I wouldn’t be a volunteer. I’d be a paid instructor who’s proud of his work. And being a paid instructor wouldn’t mean that my volunteering would be competing with my ability to earn a living. I’d take my instruction seriously enough to put the time and effort into cultivating and maintaining a large class of students who are happy with my lessons. I’d learn modern techniques and keep up with the times. In short, I’d do my best. So I suppose the reality is, I’m rather unmotivated. And that’s that.
