Throughout my life, I’ve held numerous entry-level jobs: cashier, airline companies, construction in Texas, multiple warehouse jobs in CA, coaching positions at gyms, dishwashing, parks and rec jobs, and even renovating a cabin in Washington state. With each job, I came to realize the quality of the people responsible for training or onboarding. Regrettably, most of these “trainers” were subpar in their teaching methods.

When the time arrived for these individuals to impart knowledge about the job, they performed poorly. I observed their conduct – they often carried themselves with an air of superiority, assuming their knowledge made them exceptional.

Ironically, I didn’t pay much attention to the assigned tasks, but I did critique their teaching approaches. Imagine if the roles were reversed, and they were in my MMA class or learning martial arts. I’d have no issue making them feel inadequate. Yet, that isn’t true teaching, is it? In my inaugural post on my site, I aim to emphasize the significance of always remaining a student.

“To learn is to die voluntarily and be born again, in great ways and small.”

Why? Once upon a time, I was zealous, a young man in the ring driven by nothing but ambition. Everyone served as a stepping stool in my mission to become the coolest and most popular fighter known to man. But you know what happened? Absolutely nothing. I underwent heart surgery, nearly faced death – a story for another time. I got married, moved out of California, and worked as a basic clerk at Home Depot in NJ during the 2020 zombie virus pandemic.

One of my co-workers, acquainted with my wife from high school, knew bits about me. When they caught me shadow boxing and asked if I boxed, I initially denied it. However, I soon found myself rambling about my martial arts journey, hoping to impress them as I had done countless times before. Surprisingly, this time, I was met with blank expressions. “Who is that?” they asked. I felt embarrassed. Similar incidents occurred frequently during my travels across states. It was in Denver, while working at the airport, that I swallowed my pride and realized: “Dude, no one cares.” Surprisingly, it was a blessing.

I’m sharing this now because martial arts, for me, is a hobby; its primary benefit is self-defense. Through my youthful arrogance, I dismissed everyone outside this niche as losers, considering newcomers as mere wannabes. How wrong I was. Following my heart surgery, I realized that nobody cared about my training background or experience. My circle seemed to forget about me; I became irrelevant. As a “fighter” and martial artist, I fixated on mastering my craft, never truly wanting to work with those eager to learn. I transitioned from surgery to different jobs, noticing the lack of effective teaching skills in many people – a skill I unexpectedly possessed but didn’t want to utilize. However, everything changed when I adopted the role of a student once more.

I discovered that many exceptional “fighters” aren’t necessarily great teachers. Most prioritize their reputation over the satisfaction of their paying customers, who seek a service. Seasoned martial artists often forget what it means to be a beginner. I approach every client, student, and class as if I were a white belt. Presently, I am a white belt in BJJ, but I pay no heed to belt rank. Instead, I focus on understanding how BJJ instructors teach and what I can learn as an instructor. I observe their successful methods and their shortcomings, taking notes diligently. In my classes, I strive to be the best student, learning how to teach you and others who aspire to teach. Moreover, I’m learning from my son every day on how to be a dad, and he’s not even 2 years old yet.

Theodore Roosevelt once said: “No one cares how much you know until they know how much you care.” I wish I had coined that phrase myself.

I hope you enjoyed this discussion. Perhaps, if you’re not already associated with Phylasso, I’ll have the privilege of teaching, training, or working with you! God bless and have a fantastic Thanksgiving!