Bullying

After recently writing some earlier posts about some of my own experiences concerning the hostility that I faced during my teenage years. I’m pleased to say that I’ve had several people contact me, informing me about their own episodes of aggression.

I firmly believe that bullying is still very much an ongoing concern. (Even more so with cyber-bullying now to contend with.) How do I know that bullying is still a big issue? In my role as a Martial Art Instructor I’m able to speak with the many children and parents that I teach. Lots of them constantly tell me about their own personal predicaments that they regularly face.

There are now many Schools and Institutes that do now have specific anti-bullying guidelines firmly in place, which is great. Unfortunately for me when I was at school there were no such procedures to turn too. I basically learnt how to cope with my problems head-on, through one challenging experience after another.

This reason why I’m so highly-sensitive about this particular subject either when talking or writing about it, is that it instantly takes me back to the emotional state that I often found myself in. I can easily relive those painful moments and I never forget what it felt like to be on the receiving end of the punishment that was directed toward me.

It’s often been said 'your schooldays are the best days of your life.' For me personally my school years were a living nightmare, mainly because right from an early age I was constantly harassed.

I’m still not sure why the older boy’s always seemed to pick on me. It might have had something to do with my size, being slightly overweight and taller than the average kid of my age. I also lacked self-confidence and I’m sure this was a major contributing factor, whatever the reasons, I certainly absorbed my fare share of punishment.

The bullying occurred quite regularly from a variety of different sources and often came in various waves of cruelty. Complaining about the circumstance to my teachers was an utter waste of time - no one particularly worried or cared. 

A lot of the bullying that actually happened usually started off in the school-playground, away from the general view of the teachers. It was a typical set of circumstances that you often see portrayed in such films like the ‘Karate Kid’ movies.  The situation might have played-out something similar to the scenario, which I’m about to explain. 

The young boy stood motionless in the playground, singled-out by the three boys that surrounded him. The older lads pushed and shoved him, at the same time calling out hurtful names. As the pestering progressed the situation become more and more intense. The bullies tormented and started to become more physical, trying to steal the boy’s lunch. The young lad offered little in the way of resistance. He realised that any chance of fighting back would be futile against the larger youths. One of the older boys grabbed the youngster’s jacket and there was a slight scuffle. Without warning the lout lashed out with a punch and hit the youngster hard on the side of the head, forcing him to fall to the ground. After applying a few kicks just for good measures, the ruffians quickly departed, leaving the young boy lying on the ground in distress.

The reason why I can describe this scene so well – this event actually happened to me - I was that young boy.

I’ve now mentioned in my blog, on three separate occasions, events that I firmly believe were  considerable acts of injustice toward me. As you’ve probably gathered "bullying" is a subject close to my heart and one that I’ve thought about, many, many times over for the last forty-years. 

In my next post I would like to offer a few suggestions toward the age-old-problem of bullying. 

The Final Straw – Part Two

After making my break-away from the thugs, the scenario that followed must have seemed like a ‘classic’ escape scene from a prisoner-of-war movie. You can imagine the guards and hounds frantically in hot pursuit, while the fugitive splashes his way through mud and water. That’s the best way I could describe what it felt like for me while being hunted down.

As I continued running over the marshland toward the shore, all I could taste was sea salt in my mouth coming from the water on the marshes. I managed to scramble over the sand-dunes. Only a few yards behind me I could hear my pursuers, panting and grunting like a pack of wild animals chasing their prey.  I knew that they were completely outraged by the fact that I’d managed to slip away from their grasp.

Thankfully, their drunken stumbling state was no match for my nimble young legs. Although I was not a particularly good fighter, I’d certainly learnt how to run fast from previous encounters with bullies. However I knew that these chaps wanted to inflict some serious damage to me; they weren’t your normal playground tyrants, more-like well-trained thugs. I came to the conclusion - I was actually running for my life.

Gradually, I was able to gain considerable distance away from my adversaries and realised that I had somehow managed to escape. A great sense of relief pored over me. I laid motionless in the sand dunes very close to the shore, slowly regaining my breath. I waited patiently for several minutes until my regular breathing pattern had fully returned. 

I quietly peered over the dunes. All I could see in the distance were figures hovering around the streetlights, very close to where the incident first occurred. After a few more minutes had passed, I sat watching and noticed a very small spark of light. It looked like it was coming from a cigarette lighter, a flame that then seemed to grow larger and larger. Eventually there was a huge glow and then a small explosion…………I realised that the gang had set my motorbike on fire.

To complete the story; later that evening, when the bikers had eventually left the scene, I  slowly but cautiously made my way back.  Strangely enough I was able to meet up with my mate again.  He came back on his bike to look for me. I explained to him what had taken place and he was shocked and extremely apologetic for leaving me all alone.

My friend eventually persuaded me to call the police, which I did by knocking on the door of the nearest house and using their telephone. By the time the local squad car had arrived, my bike was a smouldering wreck lying on the side of the road. It had been completely destroyed and was in a totally unrecognisable state.

Later that night after giving a brief statement to the police, I was invited to stay at my pal’s house. He only lived a few miles down the road from seaside village. The following day I was asked to visit the regional police headquarters, which I did. It was here that the senior officer in charge insisted that together we should try to bring these yobs to justice. He said, “It was an intolerable act that needed to be punished.” 

The detective constable in charge offered me ‘special police protection' in order to pursue those that had committed the crime. The only requirement, I had to agree to return to the village where the incident occurred and personally identify the perpetrators

After a lot of persuasion I finally agreed to do the task, only with the complete knowledge that I had full support from the police. We arrived back at the village at around mid-day. The accompanying officers had a good idea where the culprits might be hanging out - the local Pub. The detective who was leading the case, informed me that I should casually stroll around the garden where the gang would be most likely be drinking. My job would be to accurately identify the three offenders.

As I approached the pub, deep inside I witnessed a whole new level of anxiety. My mouth was dry and I was rigid with fear. To say that I was petrified would be an under-statement. Thankfully I had the full assistance and encouragement of very experienced officers, who supported me every step of the way through this tricky ordeal.

As I entered the garden, I instantly recognised all three men sitting drinking together. There was definitely no mistake; their huge frames and faces were firmly impressed into my mind. Luckily none of them recognised me. I somehow managed to successfully complete my mission, just by simply nodding my head toward the guilty party. After making a swift exit I let the police to do their job.

Afterwards, all three men were arrested and held in the police custody for that night and for most of the following day. In due course they were all released after confessing to the crime, which they had committed. By means of further court proceedings, all three men were eventually prosecuted for causing criminal damage. They were heftily fined, as well as paying me back the full cost of my burnt-out machine.

For many weeks afterwards the implication of this traumatic event was to have an extensive affect on me mentally. I suffered frequent attacks of anxiety and also had difficulty sleeping.  I was afraid to venture any distance from home, subsequently I spent a lot of my time just sitting in my local pub quietly drinking.

I'd reached “The Final Straw” -  I felt extremely insecure about my own level of protection and I even considered carrying a knife or some other offensive weapon to protect myself. The alternative to this was to seek out some form of martial art training - I desperately wanted to learn how to fight effectively, so I could deal with any encounter that might come my way.

The Final Straw – Part One

Have you ever had a particular incident that significantly help to change the direction of your life?  

My own specific episode, I like to call “The Final Straw” - it happened to me in July 1977 – just one week after my seventeenth birthday…. Here’s my story of that actual event.

It was a warm summers night, my best pal and I had decided to take a ride on our small motorbikes down to popular seaside village on the Suffolk Coast. This picturesque hamlet, which was renowned for attracting plenty of holidaymakers, especially during the summer season. It was also a popular place for late-night beach parties and barbeques; somewhere you could hangout when the local pubs closed their doors.

After arriving at the village, we drew up outside the local public house. Like we’d expected the location was lively, full of young people as well as plenty of holidaymakers chatting, laughing and enjoying the evening. The time was getting close to ‘last-orders’ so we decided not to enter for a drink, but to ride a little further down to the coast to see if any parties had already begun.

We’d travelled about five or six hundred yards down the road toward the beach, when from nowhere three strange looking blokes jumped out in front of us, all of them waving their arms and causing us to brake sharply. I quickly observed that all three guys were very heavily built in stature and displayed a similarity in their appearances, long shoulder-length hair, tatty jeans and black weather-beaten leather jackets.

I turned off my engine and parked my machine on the side of the road, very close to a footbridge, which led down to the sea. I walked over to the men and engaged in friendly conversation. Initially the mood was pleasant and courteous, all of us chatting about trivial things. It wasn’t long after my initial engagement that the mood started to swiftly change.

One of the men who was noticeably drunk, started to make fun of out of my small Japanese motorbike, calling it a ‘sewing-machine-on-wheels’ and a complete ‘heap of junk’. He quickly informed me that he and his two companions all belonged to a “Bikers-Gang” from the South Of England. He spoke in a very confrontational manner with a slightly slurred tone, probably due to the excessive amount of alcohol he’d consumed. The man abruptly informed me that only ‘real men’ rode British bikes and that he and his two henchmen really despised any ‘imported’ machines, which also included any person that was riding one.

I soon realised that these blokes where now looking for trouble and I accepted that something dreadful was about to occur. My heart started to beat faster-and-faster. I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck standing to attention, adrenalin started to course through my body, basically preparing me for a “fight or flight” situation. As the seconds ticked-by I became more and more anxious, I knew that things were about to turn ugly.

Meanwhile sitting quietly in the background, not saying a word, my friend was still on his bike with the engine slowly ticking-over. He’d obviously picked up the same bad ‘vibes’ as myself, but had not gotten off his bike. Out of the blue with a puff of engine smoke he opened up his throttle and rode off into the night, leaving me totally alone to fend for myself.

With the sudden departure of my mate, I automatically knew that there was only a small window for myself to escape as well. With no further options available, I instinctively lashed out with several kicks and punches. I knew that I hadn’t really done enough to stop a full wave of violence coming back at me. Realising that I’d now infuriated these giants even more, I accepted the fact that I was now in very, very deep-trouble, therefore I did what most level-headed people would have done ……….I ran like hell!

Discover the final outcome in Part Two

Teenage Torment

It was a distressing fact, that during my adolescent years wherever I went, hostility and aggression seemed to follow me around like a dark cloud hanging over my head.

Even during my early years at school I was constantly bullied and beaten by the older boys. Name-calling and being pushed around was part of my usual routine and I learned to live with the constant barrage of physical and mental abuse that continuously flowed my way. 


By the time I had reached my late-teens, I'd been on the receiving end of quite a few beatings. These altercations generally came about from certain individuals at school, street brawls with gangs from other neighbouring towns, or while visiting clubs, pubs or dance halls. 


I specifically recall one particular incident that happened after I’d travelled to a nearby town for a night out. I was in the dance-hall with a couple of mates. We were just minding our-own-business when suddenly thing’s started to turn nasty. My two friends started getting harassed by a group of thugs. Like a good pal I stepped in to assist my friends. All of a sudden the hostile gang focused their attention on me, leaving a small window of opportunity for my friends to get away, which they rapidly did. The next thing I knew after a few punches had been exchanged I was knocked to the ground and I was constantly being kicked and punched in the head. After trying to fight-back as best I could, I then experienced a massive kick to the face. Everything after that just seemed like a complete haze as I lay motionless on the floor. The next thing I knew - the dance-hall lights had been switched on and Stewards had thankfully come to my rescue.

As you can imagine this was quite a traumatic experience for a sixteen-year-old-boy to endure. The only positive thing to come out of all this was that I realised that at least I had the courage to protect my friends and try stand my ground. 

Gradually with the passing of time, I became more and more street-wise to the many physical encounters that were increasingly coming my way.

I am now thankful, looking back to those days, that there weren’t any guns, knives or other offensive weapons to deal with. By-and-large there were just lots of fists and feet flying about, as well as the odd chair being slung or a bottle being waved in your face.

Lucky for me, apart from suffering with a broken nose and few cracked ribs, the only other injuries that I received during my teenage years were just minor cuts and bruises. Somehow I managed to stay away from any serious physical harm, psychologically however the constant barrage of violence was beginning to take its toll. 




In due course there was one further scenario that would literally change my whole outlook on life.

You can read all about it in my next post called "The Final Straw." 

Taking Credit

I would like to take full credit for everything that you’re about to read in these posts, however I must be totally honest and admit that a fair percentage of what you’ll find presented here comes from a variety of different sources. Specific material that I’ve picked-up from attending seminars and courses, from people that I’ve met, books that I’ve read, as well as CD’s and tapes that I’ve listened too.

Over the years, I have to say that I’ve had the privilege in meeting and learning from some of the Worlds finest martial art teachers. Many have built up there own businesses from just a handful of students to extra-ordinary levels. The one thing I’ve noticed about all of these martial art legends is that they were willing to share their time knowledge and information with many others, including myself.

As well as learning from these influential martial art teacher’s I’ve also had the opportunity to attend many seminars and lectures by World-renowned motivational teachers. These individuals are also amazing characters in there own-right, many have their own unique view of the world and how it functions. These talented people are able to inspire most individuals who are willing to listen and learn.

I would also like to pass-on some of my own personal experiences; my own adventure if you like, from where I first started all those years ago, up until to the present time. Much of this journey has been about my own personal development, which ultimately I believe has helped me to become not only better martial artist, but also a better person as well.

I have to admit that I have tasted many 'highs', as well as a considerable amount of 'low' periods in my martial art career. I’m now almost proud of the fact that I made so many mistakes to start off with. One thing I would like to take credit for; I was able to learn from these faults and had the courage and determination not to give-up on my chosen profession, which eventually lead me to gain considerable success within my industry.

I now feel that the time is now right for me to pass this information onto you and others like you; those that may have similar interests in understanding about the martial arts. Its material that I wish that I’d had access to straight away as a young man. I know if I’d have had this information by my side I could have achieved many of my goals in a far shorter period. However what I now realize that it was the journey, not the destination, which was the most important thing. 

Introduction

I’ve been asked many times during my thirty-five years of practicing the martial arts, why exactly did I start? It’s a good question and one that I’ve always found relatively easy to answer. The main reason why I started martial art training was that I wanted to learn how to fight.

On many occasions as a young boy I had been tormented, bullied, and beaten. I’d had lots of arguments and fights, many before the age of sixteen and I was literally fed up just being someone else’s punch bag. I eventually decided that enough was enough and it was time to learn how to fight back.

Almost every weekend, as a teenager growing up in the small town were I lived I would find myself in some kind of trouble. Many of these situations usually revolved around pubs, bars and the local dance halls. 

It was these particular incidents that initially made me seek out martial art training in order to gain protection for myself. Little did I know at the time, when I first entered the martial art training hall (dojang) that those first few steps would literally change my life in many ways that I could never have imagined.

As far as this blog is concerned, my main purpose is to stimulate interest to anyone who has a desire to take up martial arts either as a hobby or pastime. My blog might also appeal to people who are already in the process of studying the martial arts and just want to become better practitioners or instructor's. 

Whatever your line of interest one thing is for sure, anyone considering venturing down  these paths will certainly require all the support they can get. Hopefully I will be able to offer some form of guidance toward the journey which lies ahead.

What you are about to read in this blog is a whole host of experiences and ideas that have come about through my thirty-five years practising and teaching the Traditional Korean Martial Art of Kuk Sool Won. 

In the meantime I wish you well with your own journey. 

Martin Ducker