Derrick Jones describes himself simply: kind of laid back, not a real extrovert. Around Vandalia Junior High, where he teaches seventh-grade science, that tracks. He's steady, unassuming, and not particularly interested in drawing attention to himself.

What some people may not know is that Jones is also a black belt, a martial arts instructor with nearly two decades of teaching behind him, and the kind of sensei who has guided only about ten students all the way to black belt in that time — not because he's turning people away, but because the journey is long and life has a way of intervening.

It started when he was thirteen. Growing up in the South Central area, Jones had always liked martial arts movies, but he'd never considered training until a best friend invited him to a school in Patoka one weekend. He tried it. He stayed.

"I've been in martial arts since probably about 13 years old," he said.

Over the years, what began as a weekend activity became something deeper. Jones trains in a traditional Japanese system centered on karate and jiu-jitsu, with the focus squarely on self-defense and self-mastery rather than competition. He teaches at the Vandalia YMCA — and for a time also ran a private school in Kinmundy — with students ranging from five-year-olds to middle-aged adults.

But the philosophy he teaches might surprise people who know martial arts only through movies and television.

"The best way to win a fight is just not to have one," Jones said.

Nearly everything he teaches is defensive — responses to attacks, escapes from holds, strategies for de-escalation. As students advance, the techniques grow more complex. Higher-ranked students learn weapons work — nunchucks, katanas — but by the time they reach that level, Jones has made sure they understand the responsibility that comes with it.

"I'm making sure they're not just going home and swinging nunchucks at siblings," he said.

His own path to black belt took eight or nine years, partly because his instructor suffered an injury and Jones stepped in to teach while still a brown belt himself. He spent years leading classes at a rank below the one he was teaching, unable to test for advancement. When the opportunity finally came, he was around twenty-two or twenty-three.

That stretch of teaching — filling in, figuring it out, watching students grow — turned out to be the thing that changed his direction.

"I don't think I'd be teaching here at school if it wasn't for martial arts," Jones said.

He had originally considered marine biology. But the teaching hours required for his belt progression sparked something unexpected. He discovered he loved helping people learn. He started at South Central, teaching language arts across sixth, seventh, and eighth grade for two years, before Mr. Kern offered him a position in Vandalia. When the chance came to move from language arts into science — his true passion — he took it without hesitation.

The two worlds overlap more than you'd think. In the dojo, Jones finds himself explaining throws through momentum and leverage. In the science classroom, the same principles show up in units on force and gravity. Both settings run on patience, repetition, and the understanding that mastery doesn't come fast.

"Repetition is rough," he said. "But it is one of the best reinforcement and teaching methods."

He tells his students — in both settings — the same thing when they hit a wall: keep going.

"You get those burnout periods," he said. "You just gotta power through it."

Some of his martial arts students continue for life. Others move on. A few have left for college and texted him pictures from new dojos in other states, still training, still carrying what they learned in Vandalia with them. Those moments matter to him.

When asked what it feels like to know he's shaping young lives in both roles, Jones reached for the right word.

"It makes me feel like I am where I should be," he said. Then, after a beat: "Honored. Privileged. I'm just really grateful that I'm able to do what I do."