Driving north along the coast of California to San Francisco is an experience rooted in Zen. There’s virtually no traffic, and the scenery is refreshingly bucolic, with a landscape so green it rivals bank vaults. I’m not a big fan of driving, especially after years of my nerves being worn to stubs in Los Angeles traffic, but I’m usually willing to make that coastal drive to Frisco.
When Master Jihan Jae asked me to come to San Francisco and insisted that I drive instead of fly, I wasn’t reluctant to do so. I had known of Jihan Jae’s grandmaster status, the highest in the world of Hapkido, for a very long time; and when I had finally convinced him to train me, I was already a Black Belt.
It was the first time I would train with an Asian instructor as well. To that point, all my instructors had been Americans and I felt a bit more pressure training with someone native to the culture that created the martial arts. I felt as if I would be required to reach greater heights than any of my other training.
Pressure aside, I knew there was more to learn, so I drove eight hours and paid him $100 an hour for three hours of instruction, in advance. That was more than 15 years ago; and, then, $100 was an even more exorbitant rate than it is now. For three times that much, I expected some high-quality instruction.
After I arrived at the grandmaster’s dojo and completed my warm-up routine, we went onto the mat, and began the lesson. Ten minutes into the lesson, the grandmaster asked me to perform a sidekick, which I, of course, did. He then informed me that my toes were “up” during the kick. As you probably know, your toes are supposed to be down during the kick. I was aware of this mistake in my technique and responded to his criticism with a flippant, “I know.”
Upon hearing this remark, the grandmaster bowed to me and replied, “Good, then you don’t need me,” and walked away from the lesson. That’s it! It was over! Enraged at my lost money and time, I packed my car and headed home, cursing the name Jihan Jae during my eight-hour drive to L.A.
When I arrived at home and had cooled my heels, I realized, however, why he had made me drive to San Francisco. I called the grandmaster later and apologized for running my mouth, and he agreed to train me again. The time I spent reflecting on my behavior during the drive, luckily, led to an apology and a mended relationship.
The lesson I learned was not to talk back to my teacher. His point was that if I knew my form was wrong, then I truly didn’t need him. I had made a comment without really thinking it through, disrespecting his role as a teacher by telling him what I did incorrectly. I forgot that my role as a student was to listen and learn.
At that moment, Jihan Jae became my teacher as opposed to my instructor, or a personal trainer, whose motivations lie mostly with the physical aspects of training and not with my character, with which the grandmaster was concerned. During that initial meeting, I had proven to him that my character needed a little shaping, and he had proven that to me through the school of hard knocks.
Now, he could have overlooked my little outburst and continued to train me. In fact, his method was far more immediate and intrusive-and I learned that lesson quick, let me tell you. As students, it’s important to remember that it’s not our place to question what our teacher tells us, or why. As instructors, we’re required to teach lessons effectively, sometimes with or without tough love, but always to teach the lesson.
Jihan Jae taught me that lesson, and, after I called him with my apology, he accepted my request to train me. From that point forward, I didn’t talk back, and I was a good student, and the grandmaster was a great teacher.
