Taming the Mustang Spirit—or Why Martial Arts is Great for Kids with ADHD

I teach human mustangs. Cute, smart, spastic, and energy-charged kids. Some with attention deficit disorder (ADD) and attention deficit with hyperactivity disorder (ADHD). Some with just too much sugar in their system.

More than a few children with ADD/ADHD have bowed into my Taekwondo classes over the years. I can spot them easily now: Mostly male, they are rail thin. Uber energetic. Excited and talkative, spouting a million questions and usually not waiting for an answer before they’re on to the next observation or curiosity. They need lots of refocusing and redirecting. Some instructors will label these problem students, find them annoying, and lose patience. Teachers want these kids to act like their peers so as not to expend extra energy redirecting or reeling in wandering minds. I find these kids a fascinating challenge.

The parents of ADHD kids also have identifying markers. They follow their children around in blue healer herding fashion. They’re typically fatigued yet hyper-vigilant, trying to control their kids' every movement and avoid embarrassing questions and situations. They all pray for pretty much the same thing: a peaceful pause to the standard NASCAR-like, fast-paced day.

Martial arts is great for kids with ADHD. There’s order and discipline in every class, and these kids slowly learn that, yes, they will be heard and, therefore, they really can control their tongue and flailing body—wait for a pause in the lesson, raise their hand, and politely ask a quick question.

Over the years I’ve learned by intuitive trial and error some effective ways to teach children with ADHD: For instance, any time they stop a spontaneous thought from coming out of their mouths is a victory—and that feat should be celebrated. Everyone wants to be heard, and these students are no exception. I use that knowledge to my advantage. The first lesson every ADHD student learns is that if they blurt out a question or make a comment while I’m talking, I won’t acknowledge them. It would be rude to the other students, so there’s no use wasting their breath.

“It’s in my personal martial arts contract,” I told a boy one day.

“I won’t answer you unless you follow the same rules of respect that your classmates follow. But I guarantee you that if you hold your question until I call on you, you’ll be heard and you’ll have a chance to have your say. I know it’s hard, but you can do it!”

A hand popped up one day from a focused-challenged yellow belt. He had come a long way; he used to not raise his hand at all.

“Is it a question or a comment?” I asked. I always stop to answer questions.

“Well, I was just going to say…,” he began.

“Hold that thought. If it’s not a question, then wait and tell me about it after class. We’ll spend as much time as you need. But questions only right now.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he nodded.

Simple as that. ADHD kids are smart that way.

For the hardcore cases who, despite coaching, continue to repeatedly interrupt, I assign push-ups—without looking their way. Even the students who act out to get attention don’t get attention, and they still have to do push-ups. Eventually, these students get the routine. And the more they control their bodies and mouths—practicing the Taekwondo tenet of self-control—the more I celebrate their accomplishment.

Because it’s a huge feat, people.

Teaching kids who struggle with focus issues is a challenge; not every instructor is cut out for it. You can’t teach these kids the same way you teach their peers, but you can expect the same results. You just have to be patient and compassionate. You have to see that the child before you is stoked about taking martial arts, but doesn’t know how to get the most out of it. This may be the same ADD kid who washed out in soccer and baseball because instead of watching the ball, he was admiring the jumping skills of a grasshopper. Since in martial arts you are only responsible for your own performance, this simplifies everything. Peers, coaches, and parents are not angry at the kids for their lack of focus.

The key to teaching ADHD kids is finding the key. Oftentimes, I try a variety of motivational tactics to reach them, to slow down their brains, mouths, and flailing bodies. When compared to the progress of the rest of the class, these kids appear to be making baby-step progress. Yet they are huge strides. So I give them loads of kudos when they are polite and respectful. That works for me.

Stripes work for me, too: Little pieces of multicolored electrical tape can motivate the most undisciplined, unfocused student.

“Son, if you can go an entire class without interrupting me—if you can demonstrate self-control—I’ll award you with a red stripe on your belt tail,” I told a new student one day. “Think you can do it?”

“Umm, well, I was thinking…”

“Yes or no? Think you can do it? I think you can!”

“Yeees, ma’am,” he finally said.

Lo and behold, that boy held his eager tongue for an entire 60 minutes—and I kept my promise by wrapping a red piece of tape on his white belt. He was so proud.

I always try positive reinforcement first. Oftentimes this technique works. I didn’t even realize it was a technique until I read Tony DiCicco’s book “Catch Them Being Good.” Again, I was amazed that I intuitively knew what to do in situations that baffled me. The “Catch Them Being Good” philosophy works wonders for typical young martial artists—even adult students. For the ADHD kid, though, you first have to get their attention. Oftentimes, they won’t even hear the positive reinforcement because they’re off doing or thinking about something else. In these cases, I assign push-ups—with a positive spin.

I’m not a harsh militaristic instructor like some of my predecessors, but I do assign push-ups to help rope in attention. Many ADHD students are wiry yet strong. For those who can do push-ups all day, I assign laps around the dojang. But some ADHD students are natural-born marathoners, so sometimes I ask them to hold a horse stance for three minutes. (This doesn’t sound like a lot, but it is. Try it the next time you watch your favorite television show.) My goal isn’t to find more and better ways to punish students who struggle with focus. I’m just searching for a physical way to hit the pause button on the ADHD students’ mind. Just a break in the action.

Long ago, I discovered that with ADHD students, you have to find the “in”—their personal carrot on a stick for which they’ll work really hard. Once you discover what motivates them, you can use it to help build focus, and then the number of push-ups decline dramatically.

Fred was a new student and it seemed that he was always doing push-ups.

“How many push-ups did you do today, son?” I asked one day.

He stood in calculating thought, his eyes focused on the ceiling’s dark brown rafters. “Sixty!” he shouted.

“Oh, my goodness!” I shouted in return. “That’s 10 fewer than you did on Monday! That’s fabulous!”

Fred grinned.

“I know it’s hard for you to focus," I said. "I see how hard you’re working. Keep trying, because there’s so much I have to teach you. On the days you find it hard to focus, I’ll hold on to all my wisdom until the days when you have a better rein on your mustang spirit.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Fred said proudly.

As he and his mom readied to leave, I added, “You’re either going to learn to improve your focus, or you’re going to have some really strong arms from all the push-ups you’ll do. Either way, you’re going to be a better, stronger young man and martial artist for it.”

His mom mouthed a silent “thank you.”

Parents are amazed. Many have been so accustomed to hearing nothing but complaints from their sons’ and daughters’ public school teachers that they are surprised when I tell them their kids are doing well.

“I hope he wasn’t too out of control,” a mom said one day after her son’s first week of class. “He can be a little much sometimes.”

I nodded knowingly. “He did great! He’s right where he’s supposed to be at this stage of development. He’ll get it.”

Her face softened as she released a deep sigh. She’d likely been unconsciously holding her breath the entire time her son was on the mat. For her—and for other parents of ADHD children—a few words of comfort go a long way. They’re so exhausted most of the time. They’re so used to their kid being labeled the troublemaker. It’s a relief to hear once in a while that their children are not only improving but also thriving.

“He’ll get better,” I told the mom as her son breezed by and stopped to do a hop-scotch dance beside her. “For only having done this a week, he’s learned a lot and come a long way.”

She looked at him lovingly, stroking sweaty clumps of brown hair out of his eyes. “What did you learn today?” she asked him.

“This!” he replied, then began a wild combination of kicks and punches.

The mom smiled as she looked at me, then turned lovingly back to her son. “That’s gr—”

“And Miss Cathy can’t talk to me when she’s talking to the class!” he blurted. “Oh, and look how many push-ups I can do, mom!”

He lowered his frail body flat to the lobby floor and began a set of slow, steady up-and-down movements.

Impressive as those push-ups were, I knew he wouldn’t have to do too many for too much longer.

ADHD kids are smart that way.

PpppppffffPOW!

Today's tale from the mat:

Six-year-old Michael has been a student for about a month. He's quiet, shy, and unsure of everything. He often forgets to kihap (use his spirit voice) while kicking and punching, and when he does remember, his voice is always soft.

Yesterday during knee kick drills, though, he FOUND HIS VOICE! Exxxxxxcept his kihap was more like a spewing, spitting "PpppppffffPOW!"

Do you tell a young man who's finally found his spirit to not spit in your face while you're holding a power kicking bag?

Eventually.

But not today.

Students Break for Breakthroughs

There are four things that you should know about me:

1. I love to break things.
2. I love rituals, customs, and ceremonial rites of passage.
3. I love to help others.
4. I love to break things.

On Saturday night, all four things came together in a unique fund-raising event that will help East Austin youth gain self-confidence, physical strength, and spiritual peace.

My mother always frowned upon me breaking things when I was a child (big surprise). But now that I’m an adult, and a Taekwondo practitioner, I’m encouraged to break wood, tile, and brick—stacks of it, if possible—and I always gleefully oblige.

Some martial artists are known for fancy flying kicks, fierce sparring ability, impeccable balance, or the ability to knock an opponent into next week with a powerful punch or kick. I’m known for my breaking ability, but in order to feel complete, I had to find a way to turn my gift into a ritual that would help others.

“Breaking for a Breakthrough” was born in 2005, and it’s been a powerful source of fund-raising and transformation ever since.

“Breaking for a Breakthrough” is a physical, mental, and spiritual exercise that emphasizes board breaking skills as a way to break through problems and obstacles, and symbolizes how oftentimes we need the support of others to move through life’s toughest challenges.

Participants select a whitewood pine board (12 inches long, ¾-inch deep, various widths) and write on it a problem or obstacle they have in their life. Something that really eats their lunch. When they are ready to let that problem go, they hand the board to a nearby martial artist to break for them. Participants take the two halves of pine home and put it in a place where they will see it every day. The day they walk by it and realize the breakthrough is complete, they set it aside to burn at their next campout or on the next cool, fall evening—returning it to the earth.

Saturday’s “Breaking for a Breakthrough” Break-a-Thon benefitted the East Communities YMCA’s Partner of Youth fund, which ensures that every kid who wants to take a class at the YMCA can—regardless of the ability to pay. The Break-a-Thon was phenomenal in many ways. Financially, we raised $225 ($25 more than our goal). At $5 per board, that’s 45 white pines to smash through. It may not sound like a lot, but for our humble little martial arts group, it was a tremendous feat of feet and hands. Here’s why: Thanks to our breakers, there now is a spiritual crack—a ray of hope—at the center of some very stubborn obstacles that have kept many people from living in peace and freedom.

Our group gathered in a half-circle, sitting side-by-side on gray folding chairs, to root on individual breakers in the center. I explained how “Breaking for a Breakthrough” worked, and we got down to spiritual business.

Little 4-year-old Lev handed me a board that read, “I can’t break a board.”

“Is this your board or someone else’s?” I asked.

“It’s my board,” he said, almost hesitantly.

“Well, how about this: I’ll break your board if you break mine.”

I showed him a 3-inch-wide board that had “Uncertainty” written on it in red marker.

“O.K.,” Lev said, smiling wide.

Lev chose to break with a stomp kick.

He only had to hit my “uncertain” board twice before it snapped.

Crack!

The roomful of spectators cheered.

“You CAN break a board, Lev!” I said, holding up the two board pieces, one in each hand.

He grinned from eardrum to eardrum as I handed him the broken pieces, and then he ran to his parents for a big bear hug.

My students were not only challenged with bigger boards than they were used to breaking, but also tried by the oftentimes intense emotional/spiritual factor. This makes the boards even harder to break. Some obstacles are tougher to overcome than others, and when you participate in this kind of exercise, you quickly realize that some boards—though they may be identical in size and sap—are harder to break than others because of what has been written on them. We humans are capable of carrying around a lifetime of painful worries and fears in our souls. When dark energy has been in our cellular structure that long, it’s not that easy to free.

Still, many people were willing to let go of a lot of longstanding and heartbreaking obstacles on Saturday, and each breaker never quit. I was very proud of both parties.

One student in particular—a persistent, 7 year-old green belt—hit the mega-obstacle jackpot. He was breaking for someone who had written in black ink, “Fear of people, fear of failure, fear of economic insecurity.”

Poor kid must have hit that 5-inch-wide board with a side kick a dozen times before I stopped him. I could tell he was getting tired, but he never lost composure and wasn’t about to give up.

“Listen, this is a huge problem,” I told him. “It has nothing to do with whether you’re doing the kick right or not. It’s just a really big obstacle for this person. Lots of fear, and that’s real scary. So think about the person, about how much you want to help them overcome their fears, and then hit it hard and fast right in the center. It’ll break.

“Try again,” I said, holding the board with a good grip. I locked my elbows. As I turned my head away, I gave him the command to begin.

“Shijak!”

He hit the board with a powerful side kick. It still didn’t break—but everyone heard a little crack.

“That’s it!” I said. “One more time.”

He hit it again just as hard. It still didn’t break.

“O.K. guys,” I told the spectators. “It’s time to send good, healing chi to this person. Let’s help this young man break this board.”

Everyone nodded and leaned forward in their chairs. Some clasped their hands in prayer.

We set up again, and this time he hit that board with the hardest kick ever—accompanied by a loud, thunderous kihap.

Crack!

The room erupted in applause—for him and for the person who now had hope that many lifelong fears would soon vanish.

“That was hard-fought,” I whispered to him as I shook his hand. “Good job.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” he said humbly, then returned to his seat.

All evening, the energy in the room was intense. Even East Communities’ executive director became teary-eyed.

“I found myself getting emotional—over a board,” she said later, looking a bit baffled.

I could tell she didn’t understand why she had such strong feelings.

“In this kind of breaking exercise, that’s what happens,” I said. “You’re feeling all that energy moving—from dark to light, from sadness to joy. Some of the people we broke for tonight have been stuck in hell for a long time, and tonight they’re on the road to freedom.

“That’s huge.”

She gave an understanding nod.

I am continually amazed at how easily our Tao of Texas Martial Arts Institute’s group is willing to help others in need. I have to send out a Herculean electronic hug and thank you to all our breakers: Calvin Redman, Ziyah Parramore, Elijah Kleinman, Lev Kleinman, Jonathan Kleinman, Danielle Hamilton, Karen Rivera, and Waylon “Way-Way” Redman. They were selfless in service to others and bold in spirit.

Does reading this make you crave a breakthrough of your own over something that’s really troubling you? If you didn’t get the chance to participate in Saturday's breakthrough event, contact me via email.

I’ll never turn down an opportunity to break something.

Then again, you already knew that about me, didn’t you?