Why Your Kendo Students Aren’t Improving (Easy Fix)

The False Promise of Perfect Reps

Did you ever watch your students drill flawless men-uchi five times in a row—only to get steamrolled in jigeiko? Yeah. Same. I’ve seen it plenty of times: someone breezing through kihon like a metronome—every strike clean, every movement sharp. But once we shifted to jigeiko, within seconds, they’re hesitating, missing openings, and eating counters. They look sharp in kihon, but in jigeiko or shiai, they freeze, fumble, and flail.

And then you start wondering: "What the hell have we been doing all this time?"

Turns out, repetition isn't the enemy. But repetition without context? That’s the silent killer of progress. And no, you don’t need to scrap your kihon. You just need to paint them a picture.

When Kihon Stops Making Sense

I used to believe that if I just drilled the basics enough, my students would eventually put it all together. After all, that’s how I learned. Drill it. Repeat it. Own it.

And honestly? It seemed to work. Clean strikes. Good form. Confident faces. But when it came time for jigeiko or shiai, things collapsed. Openings were missed. Attacks got blocked. It was as if their shinai got swapped for a spoon and no one told them.

But this wasn’t from a lack of effort. It was a lack of realism.

My aha moment with this came when I stumbled across the research on Ecological Dynamics - which, yes, sounds a bit like a sci-fi subgenre - but is actually about how people really learn skills. According to the research in this field of skill acquisition, people don’t get better by grinding out the same movement on loop. They get better by adapting to different timing, pressure, awkward spacing, unpredictable opponents, and all the other delightful chaos of real keiko.

Ecological Dynamics makes the case that learning happens in context, and that skills developed in isolation rarely hold up under pressure. It reframes practice not as repetition for its own sake, but as interaction with a constantly changing environment. If we’re drilling kihon like it’s a solo routine instead of a live exchange, we’re not preparing anyone for anything beyond the safety of a pre-agreed rhythm.

Also, once you’ve seen someone nail perfect men-uchi in drills and then freeze the moment someone moves, the theory kind of speaks for itself.

Repetition Isn’t the Problem. Predictability Is.

To be clear, what we need isn’t less repetition. Rather, we need more representative repetition. What esteemed motor learning and development researcher, Karl Newell, called "repetition without repetition." For instance, instead of men-uchi x5 on autopilot, what about painting a picture of a men-uchi in a match scenario?

Here's a picture worth painting: "You're in daihyo-sen, tied score, ten seconds left." Suddenly, every cut matters.

This isn’t just a coaching gimmick. It’s about embodying what Bunker and Thorpe (1982) codified as the REST principles:

Representation – Create drills that feel like the real thing
Exaggeration – Highlight the key variables or skills
Sampling – Add variety and unpredictability
Tactical Complexity – Layer in decisions under pressure

Now, these aren’t just fancy research words. They’re a genuinely useful blueprint for coaches looking to create authentic learning experiences.

Take the classic men-uchi line drill: five each, nice and big, clean form, sharp cuts, zero decision-making. It looks good—especially when the whole line is attacking in sync—but it doesn’t leave much room for experimentation. No variation in timing, distance, or how you respond to your opponent.

Without the REST principles, it’s just choreography. Not combat.

What these principles offer is a way to help students learn not just how to hit—but when, why, and against whom.

Start Painting the Fight

Here’s how I’ve applied REST in my trainings:

Representation: Frame kihon like it’s match point. One cut, one shot. I tell them, "You’re the chuken, your team is down by one. Your turn to step up."
Exaggeration: Add constraints. Double points for nidan-waza. Ten-second ippon challenge. Winner stays on. Suddenly, kihon feels like a shiai.
Sampling: Mix it up. Pair people by size mismatch. Rotate through kamae. Add a third person as shimpan. They learn what a real fight feels like—and what an ippon should look like.
Tactical Complexity: Don’t just drill kote. Drill kote while motodachi randomly switches between defensive and open. It forces real-time problem solving. It forces presence.

These tweaks aren’t dramatic. But the shift in energy is real. People stay engaged longer. Their cuts have intent, not just form. And they start recognising when not to strike as much as when to go. It doesn’t make keiko easier—it makes it more honest. Students stay sharp. Sessions feel alive. And that "why aren’t they improving?" question starts to fade.

(Now—because every blog post apparently needs a shameless plug…)

If this kind of training design hits home for you, I’ve put together a free 7-day email course that goes deeper into this stuff: adapting drills, adding decision-making, keeping people engaged without dumbing anything down. It’s one email a day that gives you the type of practical insights I wish someone had handed me 15 years ago. (And like I said, its free 👍).

From Drills to Duels

For me, coaching kendo isn’t about loading students up with technique. It’s about helping them make sense of the mess—timing, pressure, unpredictability. That’s the bit that matters when it stops being a drill and starts being a fight.

So more and more, I find myself asking: Have I made that picture clear enough?

Not just how to hit—but when. Not just what the form looks like, but why it matters, and where it leads.

Because every time someone breezes through kihon and then flails in jigeiko, it’s not usually a question of effort. It’s that they’re missing the picture. They don’t see how what they’ve practiced actually fits into the fight.

And if they can’t see it, they can’t use it.