Lately, the question “What makes a good teacher?” has been circling my mind. When I stumbled upon a compelling debate sparked by Rob Liberti on Facebook, it struck deeper than I expected—enough to inspire this post.
“Great teacher - what does that mean?” That deceptively simple question, posed by Rob Liberti, sparked a nuanced and at times uncomfortably honest reflection on the often-blurred line between technical mastery and the true art of teaching in Aikido.
Rob begins by challenging the near-sacred status of "O-Sensei," noting that while Morihei Ueshiba was undeniably a remarkable practitioner, calling him a great teacher remains unexamined dogma. We would never call Mike Tyson a great coach just because he was a legendary boxer, Rob points out. So why do we assume that martial brilliance naturally implies pedagogical mastery?
This sparked a thoughtful and wide-ranging discussion, spanning everything from Japanese honorifics to the way teacher training is approached in organizations like Birankai. Many voices echoed a shared concern: in Aikido, there is little to no structured development of teaching skills. Rank is often awarded based on time served and loyalty, not on demonstrable teaching ability. In some cases, the conferral of rank seems more symbolic than skill-based — what one contributor mockingly calls a "participation trophy."
At the core of this thread lies a sharp critique of uncritical hierarchy. Several voices, including Ravi Kumar and Josh Lovic, echo the distinction between being good at something and being good at teaching it — a principle widely accepted in other fields, but still largely absent in Aikido. Teaching is a separate skill. One that can and should be taught.
Rob also shares his own teaching experiment: starting class by announcing a clear goal, engaging each student through direct contact, and summarizing the key learning points — never more than three — to promote retention. He credits this approach not to Aikido tradition, but to outside methodologies like kaizen—a Japanese philosophy of continuous, incremental improvement—and structured teaching frameworks used in formal education.
The discussion shifts at points to linguistic nuance, questioning the translation and cultural baggage of terms like Sensei, Ō-Sensei, and Daishihan. While some defend the use of titles as part of a broader cultural context, others see them as barriers to honest evaluation.
Overall sentiment:
The dominant tone of the thread is one of disillusioned clarity — a collective urge to separate reverence from real pedagogy. There’s a longing for accountability, transparency, and results-based teaching evaluation. Emotional loyalty and lineage, the thread suggests, cannot substitute for effective skill transmission.
To borrow Rob’s bluntest moment: “If he’s such a great teacher and you’ve been learning from him for over 30 years, why do you suck so much?”
The thread doesn’t attack tradition — it asks it to grow up.
Key takeaway for teachers:
If you want to be called a great teacher, show us your students. Not your resume, not your rank. Show us who you've lifted.
I don’t have all the answers. But I’ve been on the mat long enough to know that asking the right questions matters. If you’re on a similar path, welcome aboard.