Every night that someone trains as a fencer, their coach writes another chapter in this book.
To teach someone to fence is not just to teach the mechanics of fencing. The student often gives the coach a tremendous amount of power to manipulate the personality behind the fencer; to influence not just what they do on the strip, but who they are as people. This is a profound responsibility. Handling it well is one of the marks of a great coach.
Fencers from other clubs often come to me for lessons. They come to me looking to expand their game, or change their game, or “fix” their game. I always have a brief interview with the fencer before we start lessons. I explain what I am about, and what they can expect from me as a coach, and what I expect from them as a student. I try to learn a little about them, about why they have come to me for lessons, and what their expectations are.
Once, a student* came to me with a request that they be taught an attacking game – something they did not have at the time. I explained my thoughts about attacking, and what the student could expect to learn. I also explained that they were asking for much more than “to learn to attack”. To seize the initiative in the bout, to take the risk in acting first, and to develop the self-confidence to believe in the success of an attack was going to be a very trying experience for them. Attacking would be quite different from the way they fenced now, and would challenge how they thought of themselves as a fencer. In a sense, this fencer was asking me to add a new aspect to their personality. I was willing to help, but it was going to be difficult road, and I wanted to make that very clear.
I am not sure that the student believed me at the time, but we proceeded with lessons. It WAS a difficult process. I think the fencer was surprised at some of the lessons learned – not about attacking, but about who they were as a person and a fencer. Eventually, the fencer developed an attacking game. I see my lessons in their game, and remember the struggle to put those elements there.
“We fence the way we are”. My first coach told me that, and I have always believed it. I see fencers who start without athletic talent, but grow to have good results because their personality will not let them quit. I also have seen students who have convinced themselves that they should “be good” before they made the effort to “get good”. They quit the sport, blaming everyone but themselves.
I have been fortunate to train with fencers who know that they are only as good as their last bout. These fencers continue to examine their game, improve, and grow. Many of them have had success for a very long career. They know who they are as people, and who they are as fencers, and they are comfortable with both. They make fencing look easy, and it should. It is “who they are”.
Good fencers understand that they have to bring more to the lesson than a checkbook. They have to be willing to be honest with themselves, make false starts (sometimes many false starts), and learn from their errors and successes. These fencers not afraid to take a chance, to do something new and work outside of their comfort zone. They are always discovering something new about fencing, and about themselves. They enjoy becoming a better fencer as much as they enjoy being a better fencer.
Sadly, their opposites abound – fencers who examine everything about fencing but themselves. They are afraid to take a chance, to give up a comfortable, limited game for a chance at a bigger one. They move from coach to coach, hearing the same lessons and advice, but never understanding that it is not the coach or the lessons that need to change, but themselves.
AE
*I will occasionally speak of students in this blog. In order to protect the privacy of my students -- both past and present -- I will not reveal their names. Sometimes, these students will be composites if I feel I might give away too much information. Any incidents or lessons, however, are real. Ditto for coaches, unless I’m feeling particularly generous….or mean spirited.