21-year-old with autism proves he’s got chops
21-year-old with autism who earned second-degree black belt still learning, teaching
Mike Griffith of Sugar Land has earned a second-degree black belt in karate — an achievement doubly impressive because he has autism and hypotonia.
Student and instructor face and bow. Both utter in Japanese: onegaishimasu — please teach me — because in karate, disciple and sensei can learn from one another.
At this Missouri City dojo, or school, one practitioner is both, and he is proving that teachers are as varied as the colors of karate belts. Mike Griffith, a 21-yearold who lives in Sugar Land, has earned a seconddegree black belt at Dai-Ichi Shotokan Karate-Do. The accomplishment is perhaps doubly impressive because he has autism and hypotonia, a condition marked by low muscle tone and strength that meant when he started seven years ago, he struggled to balance on one foot, let alone kick.
“Karate has boosted my confidence,” Griffith said.
That’s putting it mildly, according to his mother, Holly Griffith, who recalls that her son didn’t speak until he was over 2 years old and didn’t use standard American Sign Language as a toddler because he had trouble opening his hands.
Her son wasn’t bullied in school, but he wasn’t coordinated or involved in sports, either. By the time an acquaintance enrolled in karate when Griffith was a high school freshman, his mother and father, Phil, wanted to “find somebody, anybody who (would) go out of their way to make this project work,” she said.
They discovered that Shotokan karate at this dojo was the perfect fit.
“Shotokan is not about fighting,” Holly Griffith said. “It’s about discipline, respect and mental fortitude” — qualities her son has in spades.
His sensei, Ricardo Johns, who owns and runs Dai-Ichi with his wife, Audrey, and two sons, had to overcome a learning curve, too. For decades, Johns, 66, has trained Olympians and other elite athletes as well as military in the United States and his native Panama (he was born in the Canal Zone and holds dual citizenship). He knew training Griffith would be different.
“Mike was a challenge,” said Johns, a ninth-degree black belt who’s called “Hanshi,” an honorific title meaning master. From the students in his special-needs class, “I had to learn the way they learn . ... You have to wait for them to respond to you.
“(Griffith) may not have looked like he was listening, but he was. When the typical kids were (running) all over the place, I’d tell Mike, ‘Don’t move,’ and he wouldn’t move. It was the way he internalized instruction.”
Indeed, “kids come and go, but his dedication is unmatched,” said Khalil Johns, a Houston police detective who has taught Griffith alongside his father.
The elder Johns and his fellow senseis aim to develop the whole person in a setting where everyone is family. For children, that includes helping with homework and teaching Spanish in Dai-Ichi’s after-school program. If Griffith was struggling, Johns often asked, “Do I need to meet with his teachers?” Holly Griffith said.
Griffith embraced the culture around karate as well.
“I took three years of Japanese in high school because I had Pokémon cards I wanted to be able to translate,” he said with a small smile. Dai-Ichi’s classes are peppered with a mix of English and Japanese. On one wall of the dojo hang the Panamanian, American and Japanese flags.
At 18, as he neared black-belt level, Griffith started holding his head up around the neighborhood, his mother said. How did Johns know he was ready to test for the top color?
“I saw his eyes,” Johns said. “Mike looked very deep.”
The sensei “didn’t cut him any slack” by excluding any of the 15 katas, or sequences of punching, blocking and kicking moves, required to earn a black belt. Hypotonia may mean Griffith’s punching arm isn’t in a perfectly straight line, and his fist may be turned up slightly at the wrist. Still, he met the technical requirements.
During his test, his sparring partner’s eyes got wide as Griffith landed his punches. Dozens of black belts called out “ous!” — a declaration that something really good is happening.
“The point is to be the best him,” Johns said. “I wasn’t looking for perfection by the classic standard. I was looking for Mike’s perfection.”
Three years and three additional katas later, Griffith, who studies biology at Wharton County Junior College, has his second-degree black belt.
A teaching component is required to earn a third-degree black belt; Griffith now demonstrates techniques in the children’s classes and for adults with lower belts — including his mother. Holly Griffith was so inspired by her son, she took up karate and is now an advanced green belt, an intermediate level.
“He’s my sensei,” she said, laughing. “But I always tell him, ‘I’m the sensei at home, you’re the sensei here.’ ”
Griffith is more matterof-fact.
“I mostly watch how she does things, and then at home I’ll go over things with her and how we both can do better,” he said. “We’re kind of each other’s sensei in that regard.”
The fourth-degree test likely will be tougher — Griffith will have to complete a research project and write an essay. Writing, he says, has never come easily to him. In high school, his learning accommodations included multiple-choice and oral exams (though for an assignment on everyday applications of math, he wrote about the angles in karate moves).
Another black belt compared Shotokan karate to tai chi and other disciplines; Griffith plans to focus on karate and special needs. It’s a subject he’s written about before: A framed copy of the college-application essay he agonized over hangs at the dojo.
“I am physically weak. I have scoliosis, hypotonia (low muscle tone), Autism, anxiety and many other characteristics that would make me the least likely individual to study karate,” it reads in part. “... I did not notice my own great progress until I began to write this paper and compared myself now with my former self. I am stronger, more balanced and more confident and I have developed into a leader.”
Part of being a leader in the martial arts is letting go of ego. He embraces the idea of “once a student, always a student,” regardless of belt color, giving a fist bump to a preteen purple-belt girl during class.
His advice to those with special needs who might like to try karate: “Go for it, but keep in mind that it is a big commitment.
“And for parents, don’t expect the kid will want to be there right off the bat . ... Once I got used to how things went and the people involved, I got to where I actually wanted to do things more.”
The mark of a good student, and a good teacher.