Tatanka’s Martial Arts Academy

10/28/2024

Thank you so much!

Tatanka’s Martial Arts student Connor Heredia is shown in this photo at the martial arts studio in Oakhurst. The students learn a lot more than martial arts — including being good humans. Submitted photosKasi Faulkins started Tatanka’s Martial Arts Academy in Oakhurst in 2018 and her slogan sa...

10/23/2024

We made the paper! Way to go, guys!!

06/21/2023

08/15/2022

When a parent signs their child up for martial arts, it is occasionally 'because their kid wants to try (whatever art it is)' or 'so they can defend themselves'. More frequently, though, it is 'to boost their confidence', or because 'they need discipline', 'I want them to be able to focus', and 'they lack structure'.

A common misconception is that their instructor will somehow magically teach them these things; through observation and experience, what I can tell you is that it doesn't work that way. The students learn these things through observation of the instructor, and the following of the traditions that have been passed down through centuries.

These traditions may change and evolve a bit over time, but for the most part, they remain the same.

We line up by rank. We bow in together. We bow out together. We bow to the mat. We wear a uniform. We keep it clean. We don't wear our belts outside. We show up on time. We are polite and respectful to one another. There is a hierarchy.

In today's world, the one that proves to be most 'interesting' is the tradition of students taking it upon themselves to help clean the dojo. It sometimes causes parents to raise eyebrows because it can be seen as passing on labor - which is understandable - and, that isn't what it is at all. It's a tradition that goes back hundreds of years. It's a behavior that comes naturally as students train. Aside from the occasional request that they assist with cleaning the mats (which, while I generally do it myself, in many dojos is a requirement for students to perform each class), it is never asked for - it is work that they see needs to be done, and so they do it.

I've done it. My coaches did it.

It is something I will never discourage. They are demonstrating that they have learned respect for shared space. They are taking care of their environment. They are taking care of their fellow students. They are showing that they understand how their actions impact others around them. They are, of course, making my life easier, and doing so is a /side effect/ of the values that they are internalizing.

There is no external reward. They are learning intrinsic motivation - the inherent value of giving back to others. They will not be paid. They will not be promoted. They may occasionally be mentioned for their efforts, but most generally not.

They are doing what comes naturally to them, and it is a tradition that goes back more generations than I can count.

02/12/2022

Story time!

A couple years ago, I had a teenage student who was slacking off big time at home. His mom asked me to say something to him, and- given the nature of the relationship between the family and myself- when the class had lined up to close, I said, "Hey, K! I hear you've been slacking off on your work at home!"

K: "Yeahhhh..."

Me: "Get it together, or it'll be dishonor on you, dishonor on your family, dishonor on your cow!"

I laughed, he laughed, the family laughed, the kids laughed; he wasn't upset or anything, but he knew that he'd been busted.

Fast forward to the other night. One of the other parents that had been around for that moment came in and goes, "My daughter has been completely ignoring her math homework. Maybe you can tell her whatever it was you told K a while back, shame her cow or something."

🤣🤣🤣

10/05/2021

I had a brief discussion with a friend yesterday about this, and, I feel like it maybe warrants more time than I actually spent on it.

I'm at a point in my life where I have no idea who I would be without my belt.

What if I had fallen in love with, say, basket-weaving instead?

Obviously the trappings would be different - I would have a different job, made different friends, found a different husband... What about who *I* am, though?

Would I be as invested as I am with kids? Would I be as committed to having them grow up into great people? Would I be as attached to integrity? Would I have as much grit and perseverance? Would I know what it's like to focus on something so intensely that everything else falls away? Would I care about community building in entrepreneurship? Would I care about long term health and fitness, of balancing your body and mind? Would I have the same determined sense of 'right' and 'wrong', and the courage to pursue it?

We can all ask ourselves these questions, of course, when we look at who and what shaped us - we were all forged from something - and, when I put on my belt, I always wonder where the dojo stops and I begin precisely *because* there is no line. It is certainly not the only thing I have ever known, and, it is interwoven so deeply into who I am that even long after I am unable to practice, it will be there.

The things I learned in the dojo are the things I bring with me into the world, intentional or not, and I sometimes wonder whether that building would actually hold if my gaps had been filled with a different mortar.

04/12/2021

One of the biggest questions I had when I transitioned from Judo to Karate was, "What the (bleep) is a 'Junior Black Belt'?"

The idea seemed absurd.

In Judo, there is no such thing as a 'Junior Black Belt' - the youngest you could get it was 18 (it's now 16, in rare cases), and attaining it meant that you could walk into a room full of other adult black belts and hold your own against them.

That is what wearing one meant.

In Karate, we regularly see 'Junior Black Belts' - what is, essentially, a child wearing a belt basically indistinguishable from those that an adult would wear.

What I learned, after copious amounts of research, is that because of the way martial arts were introduced into the mainstream in the US (primarily through films), we lack a *cultural* understanding of how black belts are traditionally used in various arts.

In a training facility located in Japan, for example, it would not be uncommon to see exactly that - a young person wearing a black belt - and no one would bat an eye. *Culturally* there is the understanding that this means that the youth has completed the curriculum appropriate for their age - nothing more, nothing less. There is no expectation that this individual would be able to compare to an adult wearing that same color of belt, nor would they have the same range of knowledge.

At Tatanka's, we have a 'Junior Black Belt' program - which means that once completed, the student has mastered the curriculum appropriate for their age bracket. This includes weapons katas, forms katas, stances, etc.

To be honest, this still feels a little weird to me, even as the owner and operator. It is, however, appropriate for the art. It's one of those places where I myself have had to learn, grow, and adapt; if that isn't at the core of martial arts, I don't know what is.

03/02/2021

This Tiny Tiger was killing it in her private lesson last night! ♥️♥️

01/14/2021

Growing up in the martial arts world taught me that there are two basic ways to interact with the world to become successful.

The first is to crush those who you feel ‘stand in your way’. If you are big enough, fast enough, strong enough... This can work in the short run. The major drawback is that when you do this, your actions breed contention and distrust- people may fear you, but they do not respect you. As soon as you are no longer the biggest, fastest, and strongest... You yourself will be crushed.

The second is to be so dedicated to the community you are building that you become an integral part of it. This has been my goal with Tatanka’s- the service of a dojo as family, not a spreadsheet.

Show up for each other. Support one another. Cheer each other on. When times are tough, remind each other that it doesn’t last forever; when things are great, celebrate with each other.

If I am using 2020 as the reference point, I have been successful.

Nine months in to some of the most trying times we’ve ever seen, students are still showing up to Zoom classes. They are encouraging each other. They are sharing about their days. They are talking about their future plans. When one of them is bummed out, they lift each other up.

When we have classes in person, they do the same thing.

No matter where we meet, they are laughing with each other. They are practicing together. They are looking ridiculous in their living rooms, their bedrooms, the dojo. They are working out with masks on, washing their hands, changing their practices to take care of each other.

Watching my students do these things makes me so proud. To be willing to care for one another during a time when we are all stretched thin, at an age when it’s still difficult to look beyond themselves- that’s amazing. It makes me proud of the families they come from- that they have parents reinforcing and encouraging this type of behavior, raising humans who will be amazing individuals in any community they are a part of.

It was a rough year- no doubt about it. We can all attest to that. It was a year of immense growth, and there is no growth without discomfort.

What I was able to see over the course of it, though, was that I have been thus far been successful in building a community. Thank you, all of you, for showing me that.

11/12/2020

One of the best decisions I’ve made during this time was to modify our curriculum to provide additional focus on meeting the students’ needs for socialization.

While still making sure that they gain valuable martial arts skills, I’ve moved away somewhat from the rigorous classes we used to have, and have relaxed in-class protocol significantly. This has noticeably benefited the mental health of the students, and I’m so glad that we took the direction we have. ♥️

10/09/2020

For those that don't know, I have a black belt in two completely different martial arts. Nothing - and I mean nothing - about them is similar. One is based almost entirely on grappling, one is entirely striking. You'll need that information to properly understand the rest of this post.
The first black belt I received was in Judo. There was no 'kids' black belt program - you waited until you were 18, or you didn't get one. That's just the way it was.
I started training when I was five.
I worked hard.
Really, really, really hard.
As a teenager, I trained for hours each day. I sweat through my tee shirts often and badly enough that I have permanent stains on the inside of my uniform.
There are literally holes in some areas of my double-weave gi. Judoka will know what that takes; for those that don't, imagine how much wear is required to put a hole in your jeans. Now imagine that your jeans are a quarter of an inch thick.
I was a competitor, until I injured myself badly enough to end my career.
I coached.
I coached every day from the time I was 13 until I went off to college, and then I took the train back, an hour and a half, three times each week so that I could continue to train and coach. I often slept at my parents' house on the weekends so that I could do so. What does that take, for a college student to spent the weekends at their parents' house?
My senior year, I moved back so that I could be closer to the dojo.
Every day I am reminded that I am still a judoka first, and everything else second.
I am reminded when I wake up the morning and a hundred thousand breakfalls worth of mileage is still in my joints. (That is a very conservative estimate - it's probably a little over double that.)
I am reminded when the weather changes and it doesn't matter how much ibuprofen I take, my shoulder is worthless.
I am reminded when too much time at the computer leaves my hands aching, and I have to take a break.
That is the sport of Judo. It is hard on your body, and if you were a serious competitor - you will always remember that.
I am also reminded, though, when one of my students is having a difficult time with a concept and rather than get frustrated, it comes as second nature to find a new way to teach it.
I am reminded when I see people yelling at each other over something rather than peacefully working it out, and my first thought is, 'It doesn't need to be done that way.'
I am reminded when I get to the dojo before anyone else, while all is still quiet. I sit on the mat, and the tatami under me feels like home.
When I got my black belt in Judo, I knew that I had earned it.
I knew in my bones, down to the absolute core of my being, that there was something in that belt that could never be taken away. It was so deeply a part of me that I couldn't tell you where it stopped and anything else began; it didn't, it was interwoven into the fabric of who I am as a human.
When I got my black belt in karate, the experience... It was nothing like that.
I tested regularly. I checked all the boxes. I met the physical skills, I knew the movements, I could hit every mark. I was stronger in some areas and weaker in others, but I was still 110% of what was required. I obtained it in record time for the dojo.
Despite the knowledge of learning a new art and being in the best shape of my adult life, it was completely unsatisfying.
I had learned new skills, but how had I grown as a person?
What had I done, really, that was more than I knew myself to be?
I already knew that I could push myself beyond my what I thought my limits were. I already knew that I could hit deadlines, that I could coach, that I could memorize moves I disliked, that I could power through even when I wanted to stop.
I knew because it had already been asked of me, long before, when I got my first black belt.
It's why I run my dojo differently.
It's why I don't test on a schedule.
When a student is ready, they're ready; when they aren't, they aren't.
It's why I don't care how hard you can hit, or how on-point your kicks are; if you don't have impulse control, you're not there.
It's why I don't care if you're sixteen or sixty, if you're a jerk, you're not there.
It's why your compassion is just as important as your kata, your integrity as important as your form.
The art I instruct is karate, but it's based on the things I learned in Judo. Jigoro Kano was very clear; we practice our physical skills to strengthen ourselves in attack and defense, we complete our personality by training our mind, and we devote ourselves to society.
It's why I make it so damn hard to get a black belt.