On passion, dedication, and the search for someone willing to carry on a martial art.
By Maestro Paolo Pagaling
After years of teaching martial arts, one thing I’ve come to realize is that there’s a big difference between someone who enjoys training and someone who genuinely looks forward to it. I’ve had students who were enthusiastic at first but gradually lost interest, and others who continued showing up regardless of how difficult or inconvenient training became. It’s something I’ve been thinking about lately, particularly when I compare my experiences as an instructor with what I remember from my younger years.
When I was young, I don’t remember needing anyone to convince me to train. Of course, there must have been days when I felt tired or lazy, but I honestly cannot recall a time when I seriously considered skipping training simply because I wasn’t in the mood. I was always looking forward to the next session. In fact, I probably spent more time thinking about martial arts than anything else.
My parents weren’t particularly supportive of my interest, either. I remember being told, “Why don’t you just play basketball instead of wasting your time doing karate?” So I played basketball. Then, when I started spending more time playing basketball, the complaints changed. “Why are you always playing basketball? Why don’t you clean the house, wash the dishes, or cook something?”
Apparently, there was no winning that argument.
But despite all that, my interest in martial arts never really changed. I didn’t need anyone’s encouragement, and I certainly wasn’t doing it to please my parents. It was something I genuinely enjoyed, and I was willing to make sacrifices just to continue learning.
Now that I’m on the other side of the relationship, teaching rather than simply learning, I’ve begun to appreciate how uncommon that kind of enthusiasm can be.
Finding Students Who Truly Want to Learn
Over the years, I’ve taught students of different ages, backgrounds, and abilities. Some picked up techniques almost immediately, while others needed considerably more time and repetition. That never bothered me. As an instructor, I understand that people learn at different rates. What matters more to me is whether someone genuinely wants to learn in the first place.
I would gladly spend hours teaching someone who struggles with a particular movement but keeps trying to understand it. On the other hand, it can be frustrating to work with someone who has plenty of natural ability but shows little interest unless constantly encouraged.
There is only so much an instructor can do. We can explain techniques, demonstrate movements, correct mistakes, and provide opportunities to practice. We can make lessons interesting and enjoyable. But ultimately, the student has to want to be there.
I’ve also noticed this among some children who grow up in martial arts families. Their parents are instructors or experienced practitioners, so naturally, they are introduced to training at an early age. Some develop a genuine passion for it, while others participate mainly because their parents expect them to.
I understand why parents want to pass on something they love to their children. I have felt that way myself. But I’ve come to realize that sharing our knowledge with our children doesn’t guarantee that they will share our enthusiasm. They may eventually develop an interest, or they may discover something entirely different that they would rather pursue.
It’s something we have to accept, even when it’s disappointing.
Two Students I Still Remember
Whenever I think about dedication, I remember two students I taught many years ago. They were still teenagers when they began training with me, and I have some very fond memories of those days.
These two would wake up at around four in the morning and walk all the way to my house. They would knock on my door until I woke up, and then we would go jogging for several kilometers before beginning our martial arts training.
Imagine being woken up by your own students because they were already there, ready to train.
I didn’t have to chase after them or remind them about our schedule. They made the effort themselves. They were young, they had other things they could have been doing, and yet they chose to spend those early mornings training with me.
Life eventually took us in different directions, but we’ve remained in contact over the years, and I still get to train with them occasionally. Looking back, I realize how fortunate I was to have students like them. They made teaching enjoyable because I knew they valued what I was sharing.
Sometimes I wonder whether my own teachers felt something similar when I was their student. I feel a little uncomfortable saying that because I don’t want to sound as though I’m praising myself, but I do remember how eager I was to learn and how seriously I took every opportunity they gave me.
Money was often a problem back then. There were times when I could barely afford my lessons, and eventually, some of my teachers continued teaching me even when I could no longer pay regularly. I remain grateful for that generosity. I couldn’t offer them much financially, but I could at least make sure that I attended training, listened carefully, practiced what they taught me, and respected the time they spent with me.
Now that I’m an instructor myself, I understand why a teacher might be willing to make that kind of accommodation for a student who is genuinely dedicated. Teaching takes time and effort, and there is a particular satisfaction in seeing someone take your lessons seriously and put them into practice.
What I’m Looking for Today
Sometimes I wonder whether things have changed with the younger generation. There are certainly more distractions today, particularly with smartphones, games, social media, and entertainment being available almost everywhere. But I don’t think it’s entirely fair to blame technology or assume that young people today are less dedicated than those of us who grew up decades ago.
Even during my younger years, there were plenty of people who weren’t interested in martial arts. Some tried it briefly and moved on to other activities. Others enjoyed training but never developed the same level of enthusiasm. Perhaps people who are willing to devote a significant part of their lives to martial arts have always been relatively uncommon.
I may simply be noticing it more now because I’m the one doing the teaching.
I also recognize that not everyone who attends martial arts classes has the same goals. Some people want to learn self-defense, others enjoy the physical activity, and some simply want an interesting hobby. There is nothing wrong with any of those reasons. I don’t expect every student to dedicate their life to martial arts, and I certainly don’t believe that someone is less deserving of instruction simply because they have other priorities.
At this point in my life, however, I find myself hoping to meet someone nearby whom I can mentor through regular, in-person training.
There is a difference between teaching someone a set of techniques and mentoring someone over a period of years. With mentorship, there is more time to explore the finer details, discuss principles, answer questions, experiment with movements, and gradually develop a deeper understanding of the art.
Much of what I know today came from teachers who generously shared their knowledge and experiences with me. In De Campo 1-2-3 Original, for example, there is much more to learn than simply memorizing striking patterns. Understanding the system requires consistent practice, attention to detail, and an appreciation of the principles behind the movements.
These are things I would like to pass on to someone who has the patience and interest to study them seriously.
To be clear, I already have dedicated students, including those who train with me online every week. Some have been remarkably consistent despite living in different countries, dealing with time-zone differences, and balancing training with work and family responsibilities. I genuinely appreciate their commitment, and I don’t consider their dedication any less meaningful simply because we train through a screen.
What I’m hoping to find, however, is someone I can work with regularly in person. Someone who is interested enough to spend time exploring the art beyond our scheduled lessons and who might eventually be capable of passing on what they have learned.
I don’t necessarily expect that person to become an instructor or earn recognition in the martial arts community. What matters to me is having the opportunity to share what I’ve learned with someone who genuinely values it.
Perhaps There Are More of Us Than I Think
If you’ve read this far, I suspect you may understand where I’m coming from. Maybe you were also the kind of student who traveled long distances to attend training, saved whatever money you could to pay for lessons, or spent your free time practicing techniques while your friends were busy doing something else.
Perhaps you’ve also experienced the difficulty of explaining to family or friends why martial arts matters so much to you. To them, it might seem like an unusual amount of time and effort to spend on something that doesn’t necessarily provide a financial reward or lead to a conventional career.
But for those of us who genuinely enjoy it, training has never been simply another activity on our schedule. It becomes part of our lives. Even after decades of practice, we continue discovering things we didn’t understand before, revisiting old lessons, and finding reasons to keep learning.
I don’t think that makes us better than anyone else. People have different interests, and I’m sure there are musicians, artists, athletes, and people in other fields who feel exactly the same way about what they do. We just happen to have found that kind of fulfillment in martial arts.
Perhaps that’s why I find myself looking for the same enthusiasm in the students I encounter. I’ve been fortunate to teach people who genuinely love training, and some of those relationships have lasted for many years. But I would still like to find someone nearby whom I can mentor consistently, much as my own teachers once invested their time and knowledge in me.
I don’t know when that opportunity will come along. In the meantime, I’ll continue teaching those who come to learn, including the dedicated students who already make my work as an instructor worthwhile.
Still, I have to admit that I miss those early mornings when two teenagers would show up at my door before sunrise, eager to begin training, sometimes even before I was ready to get out of bed.
I’d be very happy to experience that again.
