This article was extremely helpful to me being that I am a younger (less than 18 years exp in Martial Arts) practitioner of the Martial Arts. In my time of learning it was either Sifu, Sa Bum Nim (They prefer to be called Master in the USA), and Sensei. That was all I knew. Just within the past few years since being under the instruction of Da Costa Sensei have I really begun to learn the background and history of Martial Arts. I have truly appreciated this group, in learning from you all and from your diverse backgrounds, also to Holley Sensei for always prodding the group to expand our own knowledge.

A Humble Student,

Bill Ramsey

Shotokan Dojo of Killeen, TX

Martial Arts Terms and Definitions (2)
Sensei, Sempai, and Other Terms Used in Training

by Wayne Muromoto

What do you call your teacher? Well, besides "hey, you," for the
most part, teachers of Japanese arts are generically called sensei.
In general terms, sensei can be roughly translated as "teacher." The
literal meaning is "one who was born before;" i.e., someone older to
you. Therefore, in terms of a martial art, he is the one with the
more experience who can guide you along the path.

Note here that teacher is not synonymous
with "saint," "prophet," "religious savior," "spiritual counselor"
or "divine being." Paying proper respects to one's teacher is only
right. Treating your teacher of martial arts like a cult leader who
has all the answers to what's messed up in your life is just
dangerous and bizarre.

In proper usage, the term sensei is used after the person's last
name, for example, Smith sensei. This is the Japanese way of giving
titles in conversation. Thus, you wouldn't say Sensei Smith,
although this is a Western way (as in Mr. Smith, or Sgt. Rock, or
Commander Data). Whatever dan ("black belt level") rank the person
has, if he is your club's teacher, he is a sensei.

The term sensei is used in modern Japan to refer to teachers in
educational institutions, in classical arts and crafts, in taiko
drum clubs, paper airplane clubs, medical doctors, professors,
martial arts, dance, music. . .in short, all sorts of teaching-
learning environments. Although the literal term does signify that
the person has some kind of age and maturity, there is no set age
marker as to who can be called a sensei. A young person in his/her
twenties teaching kindergarten can be called a sensei, as can a 90-
year old master of archery.

(This vagueness of age as a marker of who is a sensei should be
particularly emphasized. I once received a letter from an American
martial arts supplier who refused to put an ad in my magazine
because he firmly believed that no one below his age level should
have the right to be called sensei. I showed my stupidity, he
claimed, by allowing a friend who was already teaching and running
his own club to be called a "sensei" because he was under that
person's requisite 50 years of age limit. D'oh. All I know is what I
learned in Japan. So maybe this fellow out on the East Coast of the
United States knows more about Japanese culture than the Japanese.
Stupid me. I still call my friend a sensei, however, because he
deserves the title.

Some systems also grant the titles of renshi, kyoshi and hanshi.
These are derived from kyudo and academic degrees, and may be
defined as a sort of assistant professor, full professor, and
tenured big-cheese professor. These are special teaching titles,
like a Ph.D., and are usually not used in addressing someone in the
usual dojo conversation. Thus, someone with a kyoshi rank is usually
simply referred to, for example, as Smith sensei, no matter his
teaching license level or belt rank, unless you are discussing that
teacher in a biographical paper, introduction, or so on. In most
cases, such teaching titles are only given once the person is past
the godan (fifth degree) level. They are usually bestowed in terms
of teaching ability and experience. Thus, you could write about
someone, listing his credentials as Joe Blow, hanshi, godan, as you
would address someone in a formal text as Mr. Joe Blow, Ph.D. in
Economics. But it would be awkward to address him as such in a dojo
conversation. Simply saying Blow sensei is good enough.

Recently, some Western martial arts people have grown tired of the
sensei term and have tried to make up more exotic labels for
themselves, calling themselves Dai-sensei, soke-dai, and so on. This
betrays, in many cases, a lack of understanding of the Japanese
language (and therefore calls into question these people's
authenticity). Actually, soke-dai, soke-dairi, or shihandai doesn't
mean "heap-big grandmaster." Soke does refer to a master instructor
of a hereditary (and often family-inherited) school. But in this
case, the word dai in Japanese is not the character for "big,"
but "in place of." Thus, a shihandai or soke-dai or soke-dairi
means "someone who teaches in temporary place of" the main
instructor, for certain reasons, such as the incapacity of the soke
due to injuries or illnesses, etc.

No one is called Dai-whatever to refer to their "bigness"
or "highness." In only one case, aikido's founder Ueshiba Morihei,
was called O-sensei. This long O- actually meant "big," or "main"
sensei, as opposed to the run-of-the-mill sensei under him. I
suppose if someone thought they were on the same level as Ueshiba,
with over 50 years' worth of intense martial arts training, he could
make people in his club call him anything he wanted, including
having his students call him O-sensei, like Ueshiba, but I'd be hard
pressed to keep from laughing if anyone in the United States, in
this era, were to venture into that territory. Let's strive towards
a little humbleness, gang.

Classical martial arts schools, or the koryu, may have terms that
are unique to their schools that do, indeed, refer to levels of
expertise. In my own school, the Bitchu-den Takeuchi-ryu, our head
instructor, the inheritor of the tradition, is referred to as
kancho, or "leader (-cho) of the hall (kan)." This term has been
also used in other arts and crafts schools. Although our system is a
koryu, it makes use of the modern dan-kyu ranking system, but
augments it with other terms to denote levels of mastery of more
advanced methods. But in large part, teachers are usually simply
referred to as sensei.

Students may be called several things (and I don't mean just
derogatory names). As a student of martial arts, I often troubled
over what term to use without sounding too inflated or self-serving.
The following terms carry with them a sense of deep-rooted
commitment to the arts, and at times I could not bring myself to
think that I was that diligent a student. Instead, the Japanese
language allows me to simply say "I do martial arts." However, when
pressed, there are certain terms that could be used.

Deshi is a term that goes back to the old crafts training system,
and infers a kind of apprenticeship. In Japanese, you can say "I am
a deshi of Sato sensei" and the Japanese speaker will understand
that you have an intimate and long-standing committed training
regime with Sato sensei. Being an uchi-deshi is to actually live and
train with the instructor's family, or to study in a way that allows
you direct, one-to-one contact with the teacher both within and
without the dojo, and you are also bound to perform duties beyond
those in the dojo proper, like a family member.

Monjin is another term that has an even older, more classical
connotation, and I would personally be wary of using it to refer to
myself except in certain conversations. It literally means "someone
who has entered the gates" of the training school, referring to a
person who has passed the entrance and is firmly involved in intense
training of a classical art, craft, or even a religious sect.

Seito means "student" in the modern sense, as a student in high
school or middle school.

Rather than try to sound exotic, my own advice would be to call
yourself a "student of such-and-such martial arts," if you were
speaking in English.

Students who are older (in terms of training experience) are called
your sempai; those students who went on before you. Students who are
less experienced than you are your kohai, those who came after you,
and those who started at roughly the same time are your dohai or
dokyuusei. Although used often in Japan, I wouldn't use these terms
much in a regular American dojo, because they have certain
implications. Being sempai in a Japanese training environment means
that a person knowingly inherits a lot of responsibility for the
training, health, welfare and education of those under him. While a
kohai therefore must offer respects to the sempai, in return the
sempai (ideally) takes on the kohai like a protective older brother
shelters and teaches his younger brother the ways of the world.
Dokyuusei are expected to forge bonds of camaraderie that will
weather any outside challenges or threats.

In these, and in many other Japanese terms and usages, I would offer
a personal warning to any Westerner training in a traditional budo
school. The terms are often laden with quite a bit of baggage that
are often misunderstood or misinterpreted. Being sempai is not a
privilege, but a responsibility. So if a martial arts school in
America would like to institute the sempai-kohai relationship, it
must be emphasized that the system was not meant to make bullies out
of senior students, to act like "top dogs" due to their seniority.

The more experienced students, in fact, in a sempai-kohai system
have to take more responsibility for each individual student who
started after him/her. While a sempai may drive a kohai to train
harder, the sempai may also have to offer words of support, guidance
and even personal help to the kohai when it comes to enduring and
surviving the dojo environment. Likewise, even if a kohai was so
physically strong that he could beat up his sempai in randori or
kumite, he would have to differ to them when it comes to decision-
making or other things where knowledge of the dojo history and ways
take precedence over technical and physical superiority. That's a
hard pill to swallow in our American culture of King-of-the-Hill Dog-
Eat-Dog competition, but think of it this way. If you were in a
combat unit and if you were a buck private, even if you were
physically stronger and tougher than the sergeant or captain, you'd
listen to them as your commanding officer because, hopefully, they
had more awareness of what was going on and would be looking out for
your butt. The dojo, however civilian and non-militaristic it
presently is, is an extension of that kind of group dynamics.

In addition, the way a sensei is treated in Japan is based on deep-
seated cultural traditions. Some of those traditions should be
transferred to budo training in the West. Others, because they are
so completely alien to Western educational ways, should be
investigated and perhaps altered, even in a koryu system. But this
experimentation, change and cross-cultural pollination is still
ongoing. As much as we learn from the Asian cultures that birthed
the martial arts, these cultures are also learning much that the
West can offer. In both cases, the cultures are absorbing some of
the best and (regrettably) some of the worst traits of each other.

It is up to us, as students and teachers, to try to understand both
our own cultural roots, and to also try to invigorate our training
with the best of Asian culture. To adopt bowing, for example,
without really understanding its proper role and meaning is to
simply replay ritual for ritual's sake, without any meaning or
reason. On the other hand, to quickly discard bowing as "old-
fashioned" is also too simplistic. The answer to such questions of
usage of terminologies and customs are, of course, best left up to
the individuals in the different martial arts. It is not my province
to make any blanket judgments over ultimate terms and vocabularies
short of what I have already outlined for any school other than my
own.

Humbly myself for informational purposes only.