In the feudal era of Japan, there were many machi dojo or “city schools” competing for students. They were sometimes looked down upon for sometimes teaching either overly formalized or unrealistic techniques, but with the sheer number of unemployed samurai looking for an organization with which to belong, they soon become quite popular. They would hang out their lineage as an enticement to bring in new students.

Other schools weren’t interested in marketing themselves and took the opposite tact; they hung out a cryptic sign displaying a kama (sickle) and wan (rice bowl). These Japanese words, when read together, literally mean “we don’t care”. It was a way of telling prospective students that this was not a place to gain prestige, but a place of hard work.

Likewise, our school is small and not as well-known as others. We do not come from a 900-year tradition of distinguished warriors, nor have we won a room full of trophies in American-style martial arts competitions featuring kata set to music. It seems like everywhere you look, you’ll find a “McDojo” that crows loudly about its super-deadly style, promises to make you into a badass in a short time, or makes tremendous claims about ridiculously high-ranking certification in Japan. Not here. While we do know our roots and where our techniques come from, we don’t need to make much of it.

Traditional schools would often turn away prospective students as a matter of routine. Only someone of tenacity, willing to come back day after day, would eventually be accepted as a student. Of course, we don’t do that today, but the basic principle still applies. If you wish to train with us, do not come to class expecting to be praised or have your ego stroked. Thow away all your preconceived notions of swordsmanship and have an open mind. Expect to struggle every step of the way, expect to have your mistakes pointed out and your successes ignored. But expect to learn and to be given the chance to make the most of yourself.