It’s okay to change schools. Let’s start there. Life happens. Goals change. You never know which direction the wind will blow. Heck, we all just lived through a pandemic. To expect to stay at the same school for your entire jiu-jitsu journey is a bit unrealistic. It can and does still happen, but it’s also quite common to find ourselves changing academies. And that’s okay.
In many ways change is good. Yet because we’re being honest here, it also sorta sucks. Or a lot sucks if you really, really liked your previous BJJ gym and moved for reasons a bit outside your control. People don’t know your name. You don’t know theirs. People call you “Tim” when your name is Tom (true story). They don’t know you’ve won this or that competition. They don’t care that you used to teach at your old school. It hardly registers or matters where you got your belt (and/or stripes) from.
You’re surrounded by strangers. Clueless to the inside jokes and unwritten mores. Learning a different game under a different teacher with a different class structure and this may or may not feel like an upgrade from your old gym. Tossed into the fray, navigating the social dynamics and idiosyncrasies of a new (to you) group of grapplers. You don’t know when or if you’ll ever train at or visit your previous school. You’ve kissed goodbye to your comfort zone and here you are with your belt from another place and not sure what to expect. Yep…this officially sucks.
But wait…there’s hope.
Before I go on, though, let me share a story about what not to do. When I was a blue belt, my first school was pretty new. Not new-new, but the whites and blues from around that time ended up being the first homegrown black belts at that gym. Blue belts working hard, competing just about every month, and overall realizing they were the lifeblood of the school at that time. When an upper belt moved into the area or dropped in, as is wont in jiu-jitsu, us uppity blue belts wanted to see what they were about. Inevitably we got whooped, but on occasion we surprised ourselves and only got slightly demolished. As part of jiu-jitsu, this led to respecting those upper belts – listening to their advice, asking them questions, emulating their games, etc.
In walks a brown belt. We’ve seen other brown belts. Some of them accomplished competitors or regarded for their knowledge. Seeing a brown belt wasn’t quite like seeing a snow leopard in the wild. We’d been there and done that. Yet this one name-dropped every person he’d ever shared oxygen with. He made it rain with unsolicited technical advice. He offered to teach classes or give private lessons from day 1. In the words of Connor McGregor, “Who da fook is that guy?” The really annoying part? He didn’t roll with us. Maybe he rolled with the brown or black belts here and there, but he didn’t roll with us peasant-class blue belts. But he sure tried coaching us from the sidelines as he foam rolled yet another “injury” and name-dropped until he ran out of breath. Worse yet, he showed up to competitions and yelled unsolicited advice to folks he didn’t know their game, their personalities, or most times even their names.
Here’s the issue. We didn’t know who the F he was. He was new to us and us to him. We didn’t know if he competed. We didn’t know his style. We didn’t know if he could back up his belt. We didn’t know anything except he knew how to talk. It’s not that he needed to be the most badass brown belt in existence, but he needed to join the foxhole with us. We needed to see him putting in the work before we could listen to him or before we could accept him as our own. Barring that, he was just some guy with a brown belt.
I think about this guy each time I move. I’ve won some big tournaments. I received my black belt from a famous school while surrounded by world champions whom I consider my friends. I’ve taught at various places. I’ve successfully prepared guys for tournaments (gold medals). Yet none of that matters when you first step on the mats at a new school. If anything, if I said all that from the jump…the expectations would be sky high. I need to be in the foxhole with them and then I can start settling in. Only then can they evaluate me for my merits. I get it because I was once that lower belt and needed to know “Who da fook is that guy?”
When you move, you have to keep that in mind. You need to show who you are. That takes time. That takes patience and persistence, a lot like everything in jiu-jitsu.
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Why did you change academies?
Quite often life circumstances draw us to another BJJ home. A major life change such as a promotion, a new job, marriage, deployment and a million other reasons tossing you geographically too far from your old academy. This is probably the simplest answer. Essentially you are looking for what you left, but now in a new location. In that case, you have to ask yourself what you miss (or what you enjoyed) about your old academy? Was it the community? Proximity to work or home? The class times? The hilarious instructor? Harder rolls? What exactly kept you coming back to that particular school?
For me, this is one of the reasons I’ve moved gyms so many times – a combination of my wife’s work and my mother’s health. I’ve trained longer-term (a few months or years) at quite a few places now. Almost every gym has their pros and cons. So I have to ask myself, fundamentally, what I want from a BJJ gym. It almost always boils down to the community or people. Can I handle hanging out with this group every single day? Do I want to habitually associate with these human beings? Is it a place that I feel welcomed and safe?
Which can lead to some negative reasons you left your old academy. You didn’t like the culture, community, or environment. In other words, you didn’t feel welcomed and safe. Instead of shopping for a repeat of what you left, you can flip the question on its head. What would you have liked from an academy? What was the deal breaker and sent you shopping for greener grass? What are red (or green) flags you can look for when walking into a new school?
I’ve walked into some places and immediately walked out (or wished I had). Being an upper belt or really any belt beyond white belt, new people tend to eyeball you like the start of The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly. As the round timer starts, I can almost hear the whistling theme song in the background (wah-wah-wah…) as we slap-bump to start the round. Or else no one introduces themselves and everyone acts like you smell like the bathrooms at the end of a BJJ competition. And maybe you do, but I would hope someone would tell you that’s why people aren’t talking to you. Either way, a simple vibe check goes a long way in figuring out whether a gym suits your needs. As a colored belt, especially as upper belts that have been around the scene a bit, you can tell when a gym has the wrong vibes.
My friend (as of writing this is a brown belt) has a whole list of red flags for when she strolls into a gym. Does it have a women’s locker room? Do the bathrooms have locks? Are there female colored or upper belts? Barring that, are there smaller male upper belts? Did the instructor immediately slide into her DMs? How many guys did the old “thanks for the roll” trick? Again, did she feel safe and comfortable being there? Is this a place that she would want to hang out at on a daily basis?
Frankly, some (many?) gyms won’t work for you. So keep looking. Make sure a place passes your personal vibe check.
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What are your training goals?
In a future post, I’ll talk about handling a very competitive school. As in, you left your gym to join a more competitive school.
For now, though, let’s talk about general training goals.
Your training goals will and should change as you progress through the belts. As a white belt, you had no idea what you wanted from a gym. Maybe you heard about jiu-jitsu through a popular podcast. Or maybe you really like watching MMA. Whatever the reason you started training, you probably walked into an academy with very limited expectations. How many white belts saunter into a gym asking about any medals the instructor or students have won? To most white belts, a NAGA belt seems the same as an ADCC gold medal (or maybe even more impressive; it’s usually a belt or sword after all). With time and knowledge, that changes. Same for a lot of aspects of jiu-jitsu.
Your understanding and expectations change as you’ve been around longer. Maybe you’ve developed a particular game and want to learn under an instructor that would complement that or you want to teach more or you’re happy getting into the academy three times a week before working your 9-to-5 and it’s imperative a place has morning classes. Your goals or expectations for an academy will change as you progress through the belts.
Make sure that your new academy aligns with your goals. Have a conversation with the instructor. Explain why you’re moving and maybe a bit about yourself. Did you enjoy teaching the kids’ class at your old academy? Were you part of a core group of competitors? Are you really into leglocks and are curious on how the school looks at more modern aspects of jiu-jitsu? Ask. Open that conversation with the new school and make sure you’re not signing a contract for a place that isn’t going to motivate you to keep training.
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Be okay letting go of your old gym.
It’s hard moving gyms. Especially if you left on good terms. It’s hard leaving behind your friends and the inside jokes and the jiu-jitsu life you built. In the words of Dorothy, though, “We’re not in Kansas anymore.”
The hardest part for me has always been realizing that a new gym isn’t an old one. I won’t be flow rolling with Matt while I make fun of Marc. I won’t be making 15 traffic violations as I rush to Derek’s classes on Saturdays. I won’t be grinding away in comp class every day and learning to emulate Tainan Dalpra, I won’t be spoon-fed concepts by Gui Mendes. I won’t be geeking out on bolos and leg drags with Dylan and Elliot. I won’t be co-teaching with Biggest Dave. I can keep going.
When I first started training at AOJ, I missed my Buckhead Jiu-Jitsu friends and community. When I stopped training at AOJ as frequently, I missed just about everything about being there. A new gym, inevitably, gets compared to the old one. We’ll always miss something about the old gym. Something that will never be copied exactly. Something will always feel “off” or not quite right. Imperfect.
Yet we need to remember the day we walked into our first jiu-jitsu school. You didn’t know anyone’s names. You didn’t know how to line up before and after class. You didn’t know where the bathroom was or how to tie your belt. It all felt strange and unusual as you were a stranger in a strange land.
Now here we are again, a fish out of water despite wearing a more colorful belt. Stumbling through the first class or two. Trying to make a joke that doesn’t land. Everyone sizing up the new blue or purple or whatever belt. Totally scared of offending someone just because we’re new to the gym. Much less feeling like we might have to defend our rank.
It’s uncomfortable. It’s awkward. It’s even a bit silly. Yet here we are pursuing our goals or passions to continue to train.
For me to “fit” in to any new school, I learned to let go. I gave up on the idea that this new gym would be the same as an old one. My Buckhead friends weren’t going to magically walk through that door. Gui and Tainan weren’t going to start teaching anywhere else except Southern California. And it was tough to admit that. The quicker I did, though, the less I latched onto expectations that weren’t fair to me or the new place.
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Develop new connections.
I’m not saying to delete all the old contacts in your phone and block them on social media. What I’m saying is you have to admit that you’re not at the same place. You’re not the same Day 1 white belt stumbling onto the mats for the first time. Clueless and wide-eyed and with probably a lot less cauliflower ear.
You’re entering a new phase in a new place. Assuming you didn’t dive into a toxic situation, embrace this new gym. Make new friends. Start fresh inside jokes. Learn who is the stinky Gi guy and who is fun to roll with. Discover what makes that gym unique and fold it into your game. Start making this new academy your new home.
For me, I joined a gym in Indianapolis (Naptown) where the main black belt has a great leg lock game. I rarely feel threatened by leg attacks, yet every roll with Eric Board ended up with me tapping to a leg attack or surviving the roll by the skin of my ankles. At the end of my time there, my leg defense grew exponentially while I started developing my own straight ankle game. And I hope my game impacted their team as well.
I know I would never have taught at AOJ. Why would little old me teach there? They have about one million adult world champions to draw from. Yet when I’ve moved, inevitably I get asked to teach. Teaching isn’t something I sought out, yet new opportunities arose because of new circumstances. I discovered I enjoy sharing my passion for jiu-jitsu and (ironically) the lessons I learned from my time at AOJ. As I’ve told some of my friends there, I feel like I’m some traveling AOJ apostle or missionary. “Have you heard about the good word of AOJ?” None of those opportunities would’ve happened if I stayed in Orange County full-time.
My friend Ben uses a rock tumbler analogy. Essentially training with the same folks day after day starts to lose some of its effectiveness. You warp each other’s development in semi-predictable directions. Introducing new variables or experiences brings your game (and theirs) into fresh and unexpected directions. You are that new variable. The gym is your new experience.
Now to see what different and exciting directions your jiu-jitsu goes into and what unexpected opportunities arise.
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Embrace the wider community.
Jiu-Jitsu is still a niche sport. It especially feels like it when we first join. It’s like joining a Fight Club. Punching in GPS directions to some gym tucked into a dark corner of a strip mall or located in a far flung edge of an industrial complex or maybe hidden in some secret room of a regular weights gym with barely a logo to signal you’re in the right place. Very rarely is it a standalone building with bright white walls and an open floor plan. Usually we stop at the front desk to sign a few forms before being led back to mats that aren’t all that visible from the outside. There it is. That musty scent of sweat and industrial cleaner. A few flipflops lining the edges and a bunch of strangers sizing you up as you step onto the mats for the first time. Cue a shirtless Brad Pitt listing the rules.
Yet jiu-jitsu has grown. A few less people swing karate chop hands after explaining what you do in your spare time. Or your coworkers stopped asking about the Gi burns on your face or why you’re limping a bit after drilling leglocks last night. With that, the opportunities to be involved throughout the broader jiu-jitsu culture are evolving. From hosting a podcast or being a guest, traveling to BJJ camps in far-flung regions of the world, to simply cross-training or attending random open mats, offering online content or having a larger social media presence, or a million other ways to tap into the wider community. Even if, at times, you feel like it’s a small, small world or a small, small gym that you’re training at, the BJJ community is ever-expanding.
Even if the gym that you decided to train at isn’t hitting all your goals (or you’re not fitting in the way you hoped), you can still look a little bigger. You can embrace how the jiu-jitsu culture is moving away from the dreaded “creonte” label. This is especially true if you live in a “jiu-jitsu hub” (see: SoCal, NYC, Austin, etc.). Pretty much any place with a lot of jiu-jitsu gyms provides you with a ton of opportunities to mix and match your experiences. Can’t teach at your main school? Maybe that smaller gym needs a women’s class instructor. Not getting your daily dose of high-level beat downs? Pop into a few open mats or comp classes at the big name school that was too expensive for you. No one inviting you on any podcasts? Start your own blog talking about perspectives you’ve always wanted to share. The prospects are almost endless.
Just because a new school, or even your old one, isn’t checking all the boxes doesn’t mean you can’t find ways to check the boxes yourself. In today’s internet, hyper-connected, digital age, there are a million ways to find what you’re looking for. Realizing you aren’t “stuck” at the school down the street or the gym that gives you the best rolls (but little else) gives you license to see what else is out there. If anything, it expands your social network (and I don’t mean Facebook, although that may also be true). You start stumbling into situations you never expected or the right people in the right place see your worth that you felt your new school was under-utilizing.
It’s a big world out there. It would be a shame to only experience a piece of it.
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Moving gyms kinda sucks. Whether the reason for the move was bad or good, it’s not easy feeling like a stranger in a strange land. At the minimum, it simply doesn’t feel the same as your old gym. Whether it be the level of the room, promotion shenanigans, or simply socially, it always feels like you’re starting all over again. Which classes fit your schedule. Which instructor suits your learning style. Which group do you vibe with. Why does it feel like everyone is going comp intensity with you? Why doesn’t anyone get your jokes? All of that takes time to fit into a new group. Time will pass anyway and if this gym fits your goals, then just keep showing up.
About that, what are your BJJ goals? Does this new place provide everything you need or are there gaps? Can you cross-train? Can you embrace the wider community through online content, competing, or camps? Just like anything in jiu-jitsu, you tend to get what you put into it. The same for finding your way as a stranger in a strange land. Sooner or later, who you are and what you put into your experience will manifest results. Before you know it, you’ll feel settled at your new home (while likely still feeling at welcome at your old home).
Don’t be limited by the situation. Only be limited by your work ethic and imagination.