On advice and mentors

Everybody's been there: you're at a fighter's practice or a tourney and someone walks up to you and says, "That last pass was great, but you need to work on..." and proceed to tell you what you did wrong. It can be frustrating, I know. It can even be downright humorous at times. But you have to remember that nine times out of ten, the person offering the advice is trying to make you a better fighter.

With these unsolicited pieces of advice, you have a few choices of what to do. The first is to blow it off and keep doing what you're doing . But if the person in question is wearing white - say a belt, scarf or collar, that might not be the best option. Another option is to try out what they suggest, and if it works, keep it, if it doesn't, file it away for later. The third option is to take the advice to heart and use it all the time.

My recommendation is to use the second option: listen, try and decide. I say this because there is no "One True" fencing style that works for everyone, against everyone. You have to find what works for you.

Now, when you go up to someone after a fight and ask them what you need to work on, you have the same three choices, but remember: if you're just going to ignore what they say, why did you ask them in the first place? So again: listen, try, and decide.

And then there's the exception to the rule: if you have approached someone and said "teach me, please," or been taken as a cadet or provost. Oh, sure, you can still ignore what your mentor tells you, but you may soon find yourself unattached, as it were. A good mentor may (may!) let you get away with listen, try and decide, but you'd better be able to explain and/or demonstrate why something doesn't work for you. That being said, they still may want you to do it their way. (Here's a hint: sometimes instructors build upon previous lessons and aren't able to teach you their super-secret, kill-em every time move until you get the more basic parry or thrust down.)

And for goodness sake, if your mentor gives you homework, do it. (See parenthetical statement above.)

Here's why:

If nothing else, ignoring the mentor that you chose, or that you agreed to be your teacher is just rude.

I have a reputation as a teacher. As such, I have been approached both by people who want me to teach them, and by people who want me to be their teacher. Generally, the people who want me to teach them aren't a problem: I try to give freely of my skills and knowledge. I tell them what I see and what I think, and very rarely do I say, "You need to..." or "I want you to...". I expect those who ask me to teach them to use my own preferred listen, try and decide because, as my son will gladly tell you, I don't know everything.

A person asking me to be their teacher is a whole different ball of wax. In all honesty, while I have said many times, "I will teach you," I have never said, "I will be your teacher." I know the difference is subtle, but it's important. By agreeing to simply teach someone, I set myself as one of many responsible for a fencer's education. If I agree to be someone's teacher, I am directly linking myself to that person. As I said, I have a reputation not only as a fencer, but as a teacher. I have built that reputation by making sure my students are good fencers. Which also means that I want the people who go around saying, "Matheus is (or was) my teacher," to be good fencers.

So, when someone asks me to be their teacher, I agree to teach them and give them little tests as I go along, usually in the form of homework. One of my favorites for new fencers it point drills. More advanced fighters might get footwork drills, or even suggestions that they improve their gear. And if they choose not to do the homework, I can see that their drive isn't there. I'll still teach them, and I'll still give them homework, but until they start doing their homework and I know that they'll do the homework when I give it, I won't even consider calling them my student.

Strangely enough, considering my lack of students over the years, I've only had a few who failed my tests. The rest were snatched up by White Scarves.

And even more oddly, a few of those fencers have graced me with the title of "Teacher."