Why Anxious Karate Students Must Do Gradings

Before every grading, I get messages from parents saying “my child is so anxious, can they give grading a miss this time?”. More messages from adults insisting they’re not ready, and can they put it off (again). The theme is the same: can we opt out of this scary moment? Do I really, really have to do this? 

Now, I know not everyone is here for a black belt, but you are, ostensibly, here to see progress. The grading system is the most obvious marker of that. We don’t do gradings for the love of paperwork and certificates: they have an important place in reflecting everyone’s invisible work visibly. Is it perfect? No. (More on that topic in this video.) But like clockwork, grading comes round two or three times a year, and every time, I get at least a dozen parents/adults trying to wriggle out of it for the one reason we don't allow: fear.

The cost of entry to mastery is embarrassment, and the same goes for grading. Whether for that first baby stripe in Cubs karate, or an adult doing their first karate grading in their 40s, it can be intimidating. I get that. I spent 45 minutes sobbing and panicking in the bathroom before my shodan grading. My sensei at the time did the tough love thing and told me to get started and to get on the mat, but she confided to me afterwards that she wasn’t sure I’d get through the grading. She knew well enough not to tell me as much before the grading started, because otherwise I would have fled for the mountains. 

I have always been, and still am, an anxious human. I have always catastrophized, worried excessively, and been afraid that the world will laugh, and see me for the wreck/fraud/imposter I truly am. I get how it feels; I deeply empathize with the kid shaking like a leaf before their grading. The adult panicking that they don’t know enough, and that they’re going to be sent home in disgrace (even though that’s never happened in the dojo.) 

However: when it comes to you, and your grading, Sensei really does know best. We do the grading invitations for a reason, even though it creates a pile of paperwork for me: we wouldn’t let you grade if we didn’t think you were ready. We don’t believe in setting people up for failure, even though it might be tough to accept that one is not ready to grade right now. (That hard discussion is a topic for another day.)

Some parents need to be gently, but firmly, told that their child is ready to grade, and that they need to be able to show their knowledge. Performing in front of a panel is the class speech on steroids: both serve the same purpose. We’re trying to teach students, regardless of their age, that they can do hard things. That they won’t die if they make a mistake, and that the things we blow up in our head are often so small in the real world. I remind the students that they are anxious because they care, and take their karate very seriously, and that’s something to admire. I’ve shared a tear with many a student, telling them that their tears are proof to me that they really want to do well, and that’s a good sign. 

We are also trying to prevent learned helplessness. If we constantly tell our kids (or ourselves) that we’re not ready, that we can opt out every time we’re scared, then like the poor dogs in the experiment, we don’t leave our corner, even when it's safe to do so. We give up control and agency, to the point that when escape/success is possible, we don’t recognise it and shrink away. The anxiety becomes self-perpetuating, and so ingrained into our identity, that we don’t see another way out other than to surrender, every time. And so we step back, and watch every opportunity pass us by, while people with less talent, but also less fear, take the chances we can’t, or won’t. Living in a little knot of anxiety is no way to live. 

You can be anxious, and still do the thing. With anxiety, the only way out is through. To steal from Frank Herbert’s Dune, anxiety is the mind-killer. But you must learn to channel that shaky, frantic energy into getting better, into putting yourself out there. The gradings we do as children give us confidence that carries us into adulthood. Anxious adults who have been ruled by their anxiety learn to exhale and do the damn thing, even if it is a mess, even if it is hard. Especially when it's hard. It’s important to learn that you are not made of sugar.

GRKC Grading 1, April 2026

And if you’re a parent of a kid that wobbles and panics for everything, I know it is so hard to let them go out there. Our gradings are done by a panel of black belts, in a big hall, with everyone watching. To be a grade school kid, and to look up and see a dozen or more black belts watching and scribbling away on grading reports is genuinely intimidating. 

And yet. 

Kids that were freaking out the week before are dressed in their gi, nudged onto the floor by their nervous parents, and everyone finds out that, hey, that wasn’t so bad. That even though they made a mistake, there wasn’t roaring laughter from the black belts, Sensei, and the entire hall of parents watching. That it was over so quickly, and would you look at that? Everything went fine. I didn't die. No one laughed. I made it.

And with every grading, it gets easier. Those scary class speeches suddenly lose their fear factor after a grading. When Ché was a national coach for karate, he made his students develop BMT: Big Match Temperament. It is the ability to step onto the mat in a competition, stay calm and collected, and to deliver the goods under immense pressure. It can only be developed over time and exposure. As with anything worth doing or having, there are no shortcuts.

Students must learn to get through things, regardless of how they feel on the day. Life will demand your dedication and effort. Not just for material things, but if you are parenting, and trying to work while dealing with sick kids, there's no opting out. Maybe you’re building a business, and moving house, and you need to dig deep and handle all of it. Life requires us to show up. Not perfectly (that’s impossible) but to keep going regardless of our emotional discomfort. One of my favourite mottos is “this will pass. It might pass like a kidney stone, but it will pass.” Karate teaches us to work through frustration, boredom, exhaustion, sadness, anxiety and fear. If we show up, and commit, we will get what we’re working for. But we can’t let fear stop us from getting in the metaphorical ring. 

It’s why true black belts are so special. The ones who plodded all the way up, determined to make it to the coveted grade despite everything. I am a plodder deluxe; I’m the first to admit that I have no natural talent. I am fully, fully self-aware of that. But: I have outworked everyone who started with me, and graded past people with ten times the talent, because hard work beats talent when talent doesn't work hard. I got my third dan, in spite of being an anxious wreck. Even after six years, I still get nervous when I put up Youtube videos, in case this one is the one that brings all the trolls to the yard. 400-odd videos later, I'm still here.

It just takes time, exposure, and trust in the process. Skin does get thicker. We learn to shrug things off.

So: go do the grading. Go get the belt you’ve worked for. Don’t let that horrid little voice in the back of your head tell you that you’re going to mess it up. And even if you do, so what? You’re not a prisoner of your feelings, and its important to remember that feelings are not facts - they’re often not even an accurate reflection of the truth. And the truth is this: you can be anxious, and still do hard things.