There are always going to be people in our lives, whether we like it or not. My dream is to live on an island all by myself and this island has no phone reception or any docks. Point: stay out!
But alas, we are both plagued and blessed with frequent visitors and passersby.
Now, the people who are involved in martial arts are a different kind of people, depending on the myriad of uncountable variables involved in your personal experience. There was this one person, once, who never should have been allowed into my realm of friends but I let her, and many others, in and I have yet to forget the... experience.
She wreaked of the air that she figured she was better than I was. She was taller, skinnier, and younger (I was 17, really?) but she tried really hard to be my friend. I think it was to compare herself to me for her own self-conscious ends. I'm not sure why I didn't stop talking to her sooner.
When I got my black belt and began working for my second degree, she was a high red belt. A few months later, she got her black belt.
Now, when students line up for class, it goes by seniority. The person with the highest ranking belt gets the first spot in the room and the white belts get to be in the back. If we have belts of the same color, then it goes by age.
One day, when class was over, we all lined up and we fit four by row. I lined up in the fourth spot, in the first row, as a first degree black belt, and those in front of me were second and third degree black belts. This girl, who had JUST gotten her black belt, ran and stole the awkward spot in between me and a second degree black belt - she was to my right, ahead of me.
I waited for her to move to the second row, behind me. But she didn't. I waited for any of the instructors to say anything, and they didn't. They bowed out class.
I was so mad. I was annoyed, insulted, and disrespected. How dare she impose herself before me like that? And you know what's worse? I didn't say anything. Nothing. To her or to the instructors. I allowed her to walk all over me. I just let it go. Ugh.
When I was growing up, I didn't have a lot of confidence. None in my appearance and not a lot in my intelligence. That kind of thinking really brings you down, and instances like the afore-mentioned slip by. But I remember always having enough self-respect to stand up for myself when my name was blatantly tarnished.
This is something that I haven't forgotten and I promised myself that I wouldn't let it happen again. It's one thing to tell yourself what your flaws are but a completely new thing to let someone else do it for you.
After I swallowed by anger and let the matter go (mostly), I was ready to be done with Tae Kwon Do. I had gotten my black belt and that sufficient enough. I didn't feel that I had to do more. But on a casual Saturday, I was talking to one of my instructors and the conversation led to moving forward in Tae Kwon Do, even after getting a black belt. He told me that being a first dan was a bottom of the barrell black belt and that I should work for my second dan.
At first, I was slightly offended. I put all that work into my first dan! Are you kidding me? Already my first dan is ample ammunition for further disrespect?
Turns out, he was absolutely right. When you finally reach your black belt, after all the sweat, blood, and tears, you discover that achieving your black belt just opens to door to harder work, more sweat, more blood, and more tears. I wanted that. I wanted to go for my second dan. I wanted to go for my third dan. I wanted to go for my fourth, and make people call me "Master McCosh."
Problem was, I was a senior high school and like hell I was staying in Utah when the end of the yar rolled around. I only had one year to test for my second degree. See, it takes two years from your first to second dan testing. Three years from second to third, four years from fourth to fifth, etc. all the way up to ninth degree.
Undeterred, I went to my sabumnim. "Sir, I would like to test for my second dan next summer. Is there any way that I could do that?" I asked this casually, thinking that I probably wouldn't be able to do it. However, my dear sabumnim once again did not let me down. He told me that he would speak to Grand Master Kim and that, if I were permitted to pursue my second dan in half the time, I would have to double my tae kwon do time.
A couple of weeks later, he came back to me with the news that Grand Master Kim would allow it. I had one year to test for my second degree black belt.
I went to tae kwon do four to six days a week, for about four hours or more a day. I trained and I taught. Now that I was a black belt, I was determined to become an instructor. When I spoke to my sabumnim about it, I told him that I wanted a job teaching but that I wanted to do it on a voluntary basis. Afterall, all I had to do to get my black belt was clean the school for it. I felt like that wasn't quite enough. So, I switched to teaching as part of my second dan training, to help pay for my classes, and just to help out around the school I loved so much. So, really, it wasn't voluntary at all.
My senior year of high school was well spent. My confidence had blossomed. I was feeling better about myself and making new friends became a little easier. I was doing regular classes, a couple of honors and AP classes, a few clubs, and, of course, tae kwon do.
By the time the end of the year rolled around, graduation was set in place. I graduated in May of 2008, which means I can say I graduated high school when I was 17... only to turn 18 a month later. Also, being in a Catholic school, we had two graduation ceremonies. The Baccalaureate Mass and the Graduation Procession.
Before I graduated from high school, I was intent on attending the University of Oregon. My dad lived in southern Oregon and I really wanted to get out of Utah. I didn't really care where I went, as long as it was out of Utah. Oregon seemed like a good pick because I had been there before, my dad was nearby, and my brother was up in Washington. But my mom sure didn't want me to go.
We looked into U of O and tried to figure everything out, but when push came to shove, we didn't have the money for the University of Oregon. I had applied there, University of Utah, and Princeton. I got an interview with Princeton, but they didn't accept me and I would be damned to hell before I went to the U of U. So, I was shit out of luck when I graduated from high school.
But, one month later was my second degree black belt testing.
Testing for my second degree was much like testing for my first, except it was way cooler. When you're testing for your first dan, you're in the biggest and most nervous group of people. These are new soldiers, not veterans like the candidates for second degree and above. I got placed within the tiny group of first degrees going for second, in which, I didn't have to do any of the Taeguk forms, just Korryo, the first black belt form.
The test began with the conditioning portion. I excelled here. I shaved two minutes off my first dan mile - completed it in five minutes instead of seven. Then, we did our forms and one steps, and lastly came sparring. I had to spar the other two girls in my group, who were about four years younger than me, then kids from the national team came in. I was up against this girl who was taller and stalkier than me and I was petrified.
However, when the match started, she didn't move a whole lot. It turns out that we were evenly matched. My cheerleading squad consisted of my mom, my dad, my best friend, my boyfriend, and his dad.
When all was said and done, I don't think anyone could have wiped the grin off of my face. That moment when we all lined up and Grand Master Kim called our names and administered our belts, I could have died. I was handed my new black belt and my new uniform and the belt had two stripes on the ends, signifying that I was second dan. I was a second degree black belt.
I could have crapped my pants.
My dad and I drove back to Sandy after my testing and he proposed that I should come live with him and go to the local community college to get a cheaper headstart and establish Oregon residency. I was reluctant at first. Go to a community college? Yeah, that sounded great. On the other hand, what else was I going to do? So, I accepted and moved out of Utah that summer and started college the following September.
I LOVED living in Klamath Falls, Oregon. It's a pretty small town and I was able to keep busy. My step mom set it up to where I got another teaching/training position at the local Tae Kwon Do school a few minutes away from my new home. I enjoyed training there and enjoyed the people there, too.
Now, the beginnings of my time at this do jang will be revisited. The point I was to make came well after the following summer, after I had already completed my first year of college.
A group of kids from this school all got ready to test for their first and second degree black belts. We trained with them, taught them, and worked them to the brink of exhaustion. A few months later, one of the younger ones, who was a first dan, cut me off in the line up for black belts in class. He put himself before me. I tried to tell him to move, but he didn't listen. I let the sabumnim bow everyone out of class before I pulled the kid aside and told him that, not only am I a dan higher than he but I also have age seniority as well. He was to line up behind me, not in front, ever again. He acquiesced, and from then on, it never happened again.
I stood up for myself and I had every right to. I almost chickened out and let it go that he tried to surpass me. But then I remembered how indignant and offended I was back in Sandy when the other girl did the same thing and much more upset I was that I didn't do anything. This time, I did something. I wasn't mean or rude. I just told him the facts, he listened, and the problem was resolved. Thinking back on this always makes me smile. It takes a lot to allow your confidence in yourself to grow. It's easy to take compliments from other people, but it's extremely difficult to actually believe them to be true. Respect. It's what we teach. Self-respect. It's what we preach.
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
Sunday, January 22, 2012
Stairway = purchase'd
For those of you who have ever tried high school, then you know the demands it requires. First you think you'll just try a little bit, there's no harm there, right? But one puff, and you're in; stuck forever within its stoney grasp of "education." Some of us got so hooked that we became euphoric about the entire ordeal and actually tried to do well and completed all the homework assignments. But others of us, those who had been strung out on high school for too long still went, due to the unfortunate addiction, but hated every minute of it.
The first time I tried high school, I didn't get addicted right away. I came back for more, five days a week, not really enjoying the experience at all. But then, I stopped noticing that I was going, it felt normal to just get up and go. I was stuck that way for four years.
The first two of those four years were your average underclassmen miserable years, but in the third year, something magical happened. Well, something magical eventually happened.
By my third year in high school I was sixteen and I had found a new euphoria in my high school experience. While going to high school, I also worked at Target part time, and still took my Tae Kwon Do classes. But by now, three years after my starting date at Kim's Academy, I was a deputy 4 belt. That's the belt before black. I was finally ready to test for my black belt! I knew all of my poomses, one-steps, and vocabulary. I was ready!
About a month or two before the black belt test date, my schedule was pretty hectic, but I liked it. I liked being busy. So, I spent Monday through Friday at school, hanging out with homework, doing Tae Kwon Do. I spent my weekends working 8-hour shifts at Target.
One weekend shift, I busied myself running various purchasable items over my scanner, awaiting the impeccable "boop" noise that allowed the transaction to flow, and I very suddenly started not feeling so well. My stomach cramped up and I felt nauseous. I attributed it to the small lunch I'd had and the five hours of sleep I'd gotten the night before, and kept on working.
But then the feeling of nausea got worse and it was then paired with fatigue. I still tried to keep scanning, considering I had a line of customers waiting to be checked out. Then, the cashier in the booth ahead of me turned around and asked me something. Her lips were moving but nothing was coming out.
I couldn't hear her. I couldn't hear anything!
My ears started ringing, and my vision began to fade.
I sank to floor of my cash register and blacked out.
Next thing I knew, I was lying in the aisle behind my cash register, in the arms of a strange man, my supervisor at my feet. They were laying me down, stretching my feet out in front of me. Then an orange juice showed up out of nowhere in my peripheral, all opened with a straw sticking out of it. Woozy, I accepted the drink. There were two people-in-charge surrying around me, getting my mom's phone number, my grandma's phone number, etc. The next thing I knew I was being lifted to my feet and escorted to a back room to wait for my aunt and my cousin to come pick me up. I was escorted right past a stretcher - that was a weird sensation, knowing it was for me.
After everything had calmed down and I was fully conscious, I discovered that there had been an EMT and a certified nurse in my check out line and they moved into action as I began passing out. The EMT was the man whose arms I'd woken up in and his wife, the nurse, was the carrier of the orange juice. Later, the paramedics were called and they were the ones who escorted me to the back room, and who had also brought in the stretcher.
When I went to the doctor the following day, she told me that I was too stressed out! And that I had to chill out if I wanted to avoid any more of these passing out situations. So, I took a leave of absence from Target and continued preparing for my black belt test.
When I told my sabumnim what had happened, he told me that I could postpone my testing. But I figured that I was going to be all right, since I had taken some time off of work; besides, I couldn't wait anymore to get my black belt! I could finally join the distinguished league of black belt awesomeness!
It was going to happen.
Public enemy #1: The fitness test. More specifically, running.
I've always been, and still am, awful at running, but I had to do it.
I had my little episode in May of 2007 and my black belt test was to take place in June 2007.
Here's the breakdown of the test:
There's a physical education part that consists of running one mile, doing about a million push ups, squats, leg lifts, and all sorts of other terrible things. Then there was a water break, then forms. All eight of the taeguk poomses. After that we had to do a varied assortment of one-step sparring techniques, board breaking, then, at last, sparring.
We also had to drive to headquarters in Centerville, which is way far away from where I used to live. My two cheerleaders: my best friend and my mom.
By the time we finally arrived, after getting lost, I was as excited as ever. There weren't any nerves at all! I was ready to prove myself on this most glorious of days.
I did my physical training well, until the running came. Since the do jang we were testing in didn't have a mile running lap in it, we had to run across the mats twenty times, full circle. I was the slowest and the last one to finish. I was beaten by everyone on my little team by at least three or four minutes. So, there I went, jogging back and forth, ignoring any rising self consciousness.
But at last, that was over and the real test began. The rest of the test wasn't easy, but it was much less humiliating than running by yourself, and I completed it well, even in front of Grand Master Kim and other masters and students I'd never met before. At the end of the nine hour test, we all finally lined back up and we all received our new black belts.
I'm having trouble putting into words just how... amazing it was, to finally get my black belt. I felt so many positive things swimming around in my brain as I held the black, two inch cloth in my hands. Glory. Ecstacy. Pride. Accomplishment.
It took three years but I had earned my black belt. My sabumnim was there, as proud as ever, and he gave me a huge hug in congratulations.
I had done it.
My plan was to stop there, as a first Dan black belt, but by the next week back in TKD classes, that all had changed.
But, there's just one more thing that earning my black belt did for me: it cemented my confidence. For those of you who know me, we can all agree that I did a 180 degree transition between the first and last two years of high school. For the first two I was shy, quiet, sad, and lived in my own little world. But by the next two, I was extroverted, smiling, happy, and doing the things that I wanted to do. I got my black belt just after this turning point in my life and I have to say, Tae Kwon Do really helped to make that transformation happen.
The first time I tried high school, I didn't get addicted right away. I came back for more, five days a week, not really enjoying the experience at all. But then, I stopped noticing that I was going, it felt normal to just get up and go. I was stuck that way for four years.
The first two of those four years were your average underclassmen miserable years, but in the third year, something magical happened. Well, something magical eventually happened.
By my third year in high school I was sixteen and I had found a new euphoria in my high school experience. While going to high school, I also worked at Target part time, and still took my Tae Kwon Do classes. But by now, three years after my starting date at Kim's Academy, I was a deputy 4 belt. That's the belt before black. I was finally ready to test for my black belt! I knew all of my poomses, one-steps, and vocabulary. I was ready!
About a month or two before the black belt test date, my schedule was pretty hectic, but I liked it. I liked being busy. So, I spent Monday through Friday at school, hanging out with homework, doing Tae Kwon Do. I spent my weekends working 8-hour shifts at Target.
One weekend shift, I busied myself running various purchasable items over my scanner, awaiting the impeccable "boop" noise that allowed the transaction to flow, and I very suddenly started not feeling so well. My stomach cramped up and I felt nauseous. I attributed it to the small lunch I'd had and the five hours of sleep I'd gotten the night before, and kept on working.
But then the feeling of nausea got worse and it was then paired with fatigue. I still tried to keep scanning, considering I had a line of customers waiting to be checked out. Then, the cashier in the booth ahead of me turned around and asked me something. Her lips were moving but nothing was coming out.
I couldn't hear her. I couldn't hear anything!
My ears started ringing, and my vision began to fade.
I sank to floor of my cash register and blacked out.
Next thing I knew, I was lying in the aisle behind my cash register, in the arms of a strange man, my supervisor at my feet. They were laying me down, stretching my feet out in front of me. Then an orange juice showed up out of nowhere in my peripheral, all opened with a straw sticking out of it. Woozy, I accepted the drink. There were two people-in-charge surrying around me, getting my mom's phone number, my grandma's phone number, etc. The next thing I knew I was being lifted to my feet and escorted to a back room to wait for my aunt and my cousin to come pick me up. I was escorted right past a stretcher - that was a weird sensation, knowing it was for me.
After everything had calmed down and I was fully conscious, I discovered that there had been an EMT and a certified nurse in my check out line and they moved into action as I began passing out. The EMT was the man whose arms I'd woken up in and his wife, the nurse, was the carrier of the orange juice. Later, the paramedics were called and they were the ones who escorted me to the back room, and who had also brought in the stretcher.
When I went to the doctor the following day, she told me that I was too stressed out! And that I had to chill out if I wanted to avoid any more of these passing out situations. So, I took a leave of absence from Target and continued preparing for my black belt test.
When I told my sabumnim what had happened, he told me that I could postpone my testing. But I figured that I was going to be all right, since I had taken some time off of work; besides, I couldn't wait anymore to get my black belt! I could finally join the distinguished league of black belt awesomeness!
It was going to happen.
Public enemy #1: The fitness test. More specifically, running.
I've always been, and still am, awful at running, but I had to do it.
I had my little episode in May of 2007 and my black belt test was to take place in June 2007.
Here's the breakdown of the test:
There's a physical education part that consists of running one mile, doing about a million push ups, squats, leg lifts, and all sorts of other terrible things. Then there was a water break, then forms. All eight of the taeguk poomses. After that we had to do a varied assortment of one-step sparring techniques, board breaking, then, at last, sparring.
We also had to drive to headquarters in Centerville, which is way far away from where I used to live. My two cheerleaders: my best friend and my mom.
By the time we finally arrived, after getting lost, I was as excited as ever. There weren't any nerves at all! I was ready to prove myself on this most glorious of days.
I did my physical training well, until the running came. Since the do jang we were testing in didn't have a mile running lap in it, we had to run across the mats twenty times, full circle. I was the slowest and the last one to finish. I was beaten by everyone on my little team by at least three or four minutes. So, there I went, jogging back and forth, ignoring any rising self consciousness.
But at last, that was over and the real test began. The rest of the test wasn't easy, but it was much less humiliating than running by yourself, and I completed it well, even in front of Grand Master Kim and other masters and students I'd never met before. At the end of the nine hour test, we all finally lined back up and we all received our new black belts.
I'm having trouble putting into words just how... amazing it was, to finally get my black belt. I felt so many positive things swimming around in my brain as I held the black, two inch cloth in my hands. Glory. Ecstacy. Pride. Accomplishment.
It took three years but I had earned my black belt. My sabumnim was there, as proud as ever, and he gave me a huge hug in congratulations.
I had done it.
My plan was to stop there, as a first Dan black belt, but by the next week back in TKD classes, that all had changed.
But, there's just one more thing that earning my black belt did for me: it cemented my confidence. For those of you who know me, we can all agree that I did a 180 degree transition between the first and last two years of high school. For the first two I was shy, quiet, sad, and lived in my own little world. But by the next two, I was extroverted, smiling, happy, and doing the things that I wanted to do. I got my black belt just after this turning point in my life and I have to say, Tae Kwon Do really helped to make that transformation happen.
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
That's Korean for McCosh
So, when I mentioned earlier that I didn't test in front of Grand Master Kim until I was about a brown belt, well, that was a lie. But I will remind you that this blog is based in non chronological fact, which means, I won't remember every little detail. Also, there is a small story explaining my extreme avoidance of tests in front of Grand Master Kim....
The first time I met Grand Master Kim was when I tested for my green belt. My do bok was entirely white, including the collar. Whenever a white belt tests in front of Grand Master Kim for her yellow belt, this white belt is bestowed with the gift of her name written in Korean on the collar of her do bok. All of the other yellow belts testing with me that day had their names written on their collars by Grand Master Kim. So, I knew that I had to at least get my name written down before anyone got suspicious that I was doing only the makeup tests.
At the testing, we all lined up before the ceremony began and Grand Master Kim walked between our rows with a permanent marker, ready to etch those who had not been etched before. I stood there, waiting in anticipation. I was nervous to meet the head honcho and test in front of him, but I was also excited to try and do my best. So, when Grand Master Kim came to me with his important permanent marker, he lifted it to my collar, glanced at me, and asked for my name.
"Sha--" background talking and noise --"osh." I said, entirely interrupted. Grand Master Kim was about to ask me to repeat it, but I wasn't quite done yet. "And McCosh is spelled 'M'...'C'...'C'...'O'...'S'...'H.'"
He stared at me, his eyes slanted, yet somehow blank as he registered what I had just done. Then, I thought about it. As soon as it donned on me, I wanted to slap my forehead and walk away in shame. I mumbled at him "Shannon McCosh," where he proceeded to write "Shannon McCosh" on my uniform... in Korean. And this was just the beginning of the evening, but hey, at least he was polite enough to let me finish without interrupting me.
Testing, for me, brought on such nerves that every time I had to do it, if I let my grip on the situation become too grave, I knew that I would be making an ass out of myself at some point. After I spelled my Scottish last name for Grand Master Kim to spell on my uniform, that's when I didn't see him again for a long time.
But now it's time to talk about when I tested for my high red belt, in front of Grand Master Kim. I had two other students testing with me for the same belt. Together, we had to perform Taeguk Yuk Jang in front my sabumnim, one of my favorite black belt instructors, and Grand Master Kim. And, as usual, I was a ball of nerves, on the edge of tears, wishing I didn't have to get up in front of everyone. Pathetic, I know.
But, alas, the time came. The three of us stood up, lined up, and assumed jun-be, ready stance. My sabumnim read the form name to us, then told us to begin, going by our own count. Taeguk Yuk Jang was very different from the other Taeguks for me, and I was really unsure of how I felt about it. So, in the middle of the form, I forgot a move. I mixed up where my hands and feet should have gone for the step forward into a high ridge hand/knife strike. The other students kept up the pace. So, I quickly fixed my mistake and tried to catch up, my stomach filling up with dread and shame. Then, it happened again. I forgot the move. I was so flustered with the form and myself for being such a fool! I couldn't catch up and I felt like an idiot for forgetting the form!
I threw my hands up and walked away. I walked to the edge of the mat, praying that they wouldn't fail me, trying to choke back tears so that I wouldn't look more like an idiot. When the other two students were done, the three judges graciously allowed me to do the form again, on my own. I performed it mistake-free. In hindsight, I'm really surprised, and grateful that they didn't just fail me right then and there. But, luckily for me, my sabumnim was forgiving as well as understanding. Plus, it didn't hurt that I had told him about my nerves before the test.
As awful as that experience was, I look back and still have some mixed feelings on it. I wonder why I made such a big deal out of it and why I psyched myself out. But I also appreciate it. It showed me the character of the men judging me and the compassion behind that character. I found that after that test, the other tests weren't so hard. I was still nervous, but I knew in my heart of hearts that I'd do it.
I decided that life's too short for being so uptight. So, I rolled up my sleeves, loosened up these old gears of mine and just a sprinkle of confidence started shining during my testings. I didn't quite realize it at first, but the more confidence I got in Tae Kwon Do, the more that confidence started sneaking into other aspects of my life.
The first time I met Grand Master Kim was when I tested for my green belt. My do bok was entirely white, including the collar. Whenever a white belt tests in front of Grand Master Kim for her yellow belt, this white belt is bestowed with the gift of her name written in Korean on the collar of her do bok. All of the other yellow belts testing with me that day had their names written on their collars by Grand Master Kim. So, I knew that I had to at least get my name written down before anyone got suspicious that I was doing only the makeup tests.
At the testing, we all lined up before the ceremony began and Grand Master Kim walked between our rows with a permanent marker, ready to etch those who had not been etched before. I stood there, waiting in anticipation. I was nervous to meet the head honcho and test in front of him, but I was also excited to try and do my best. So, when Grand Master Kim came to me with his important permanent marker, he lifted it to my collar, glanced at me, and asked for my name.
"Sha--" background talking and noise --"osh." I said, entirely interrupted. Grand Master Kim was about to ask me to repeat it, but I wasn't quite done yet. "And McCosh is spelled 'M'...'C'...'C'...'O'...'S'...'H.'"
He stared at me, his eyes slanted, yet somehow blank as he registered what I had just done. Then, I thought about it. As soon as it donned on me, I wanted to slap my forehead and walk away in shame. I mumbled at him "Shannon McCosh," where he proceeded to write "Shannon McCosh" on my uniform... in Korean. And this was just the beginning of the evening, but hey, at least he was polite enough to let me finish without interrupting me.
Testing, for me, brought on such nerves that every time I had to do it, if I let my grip on the situation become too grave, I knew that I would be making an ass out of myself at some point. After I spelled my Scottish last name for Grand Master Kim to spell on my uniform, that's when I didn't see him again for a long time.
But now it's time to talk about when I tested for my high red belt, in front of Grand Master Kim. I had two other students testing with me for the same belt. Together, we had to perform Taeguk Yuk Jang in front my sabumnim, one of my favorite black belt instructors, and Grand Master Kim. And, as usual, I was a ball of nerves, on the edge of tears, wishing I didn't have to get up in front of everyone. Pathetic, I know.
But, alas, the time came. The three of us stood up, lined up, and assumed jun-be, ready stance. My sabumnim read the form name to us, then told us to begin, going by our own count. Taeguk Yuk Jang was very different from the other Taeguks for me, and I was really unsure of how I felt about it. So, in the middle of the form, I forgot a move. I mixed up where my hands and feet should have gone for the step forward into a high ridge hand/knife strike. The other students kept up the pace. So, I quickly fixed my mistake and tried to catch up, my stomach filling up with dread and shame. Then, it happened again. I forgot the move. I was so flustered with the form and myself for being such a fool! I couldn't catch up and I felt like an idiot for forgetting the form!
I threw my hands up and walked away. I walked to the edge of the mat, praying that they wouldn't fail me, trying to choke back tears so that I wouldn't look more like an idiot. When the other two students were done, the three judges graciously allowed me to do the form again, on my own. I performed it mistake-free. In hindsight, I'm really surprised, and grateful that they didn't just fail me right then and there. But, luckily for me, my sabumnim was forgiving as well as understanding. Plus, it didn't hurt that I had told him about my nerves before the test.
As awful as that experience was, I look back and still have some mixed feelings on it. I wonder why I made such a big deal out of it and why I psyched myself out. But I also appreciate it. It showed me the character of the men judging me and the compassion behind that character. I found that after that test, the other tests weren't so hard. I was still nervous, but I knew in my heart of hearts that I'd do it.
I decided that life's too short for being so uptight. So, I rolled up my sleeves, loosened up these old gears of mine and just a sprinkle of confidence started shining during my testings. I didn't quite realize it at first, but the more confidence I got in Tae Kwon Do, the more that confidence started sneaking into other aspects of my life.
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
Black, Broken, and Blue Belt
I thought I was alone, but "It's your turn. Hey, Shannon. It's your turn. Hey..." jerked me out of my day dream and back into the real world. Suddenly, my visions of sitting at home and lounging in front of the T.V. were ripped from my retinas and the poor pupils fell upon dirt, grass, and hot sun.
It was March-ish and I was outside my high school in the baseball field for P.E. class. The sun was beating down, my hair was in my face, and I was really not wanting to play soft ball for 20% of my grade.
But, alas, the time had come. I left the side of my good friend and went up to the plate. It was my turn to bat. Full of confidence that I was going to miss the pitch and safely run back to the side lines, I geared up and tightened my grip on the bat.
She threw the pitch, I drew the bat back, then swung it forward, and it
...hit!
The ball tapped the tip of my bat and trounced lazily in some direction I didn't care to watch. I threw the bat on the ground and bolted to first base. I landed safely, but I felt particularly bold that day.
I saw second base. I looked for the ball. The ball still hadn't been gathered by my opponents. So, with one leg stretched in front of the other, I ran for second base, I ran for the goal, and I ran for glory.
After a million lengthy, time consuming strides, I hit second. Literally. I hit second base, tripped, and fell.
I fell on my shoulder, my arm crumpling beneath me, and I heard a loud "crunch." I ducked, rolled, and jumped back up onto my feet and yelled, "Safe!" to which the pitcher (or someone) responded, "No, you're not." I hid my sorrow, admitted defeat, and then happily returned to the side lines and my friend.
I started walking back to my friend, casually swinging my arms in stride, but when my right arm swung, it didn't feel right. It ...hurt!
Worry wrenched throughout my stomach like a dull knife; what if I had dislocated my shoulder?? My path to out of the way was disbarred and I went to the teacher. I told the substitute teacher of my feared ailment, and he directed me to the school physical therapist.
I had my friend escort me (mostly to get her out of playing soft ball) and we went to the physical therapist's office. I told her what had happened and she poked and prodded asking whether or not this poke hurt or that prod didn't.
Then, she turned her back on me and started scribbling. "So," I said hesitantly. "What should I do now?" Without turning to look at me, she responded: "Nothing until you've seen a doctor."
Distraught, I took her advice none the less and went to the insta-care. There was more poking and prodding by an actual doctor this time, and then an X-ray. And sure, enough, my collar bone had snapped in half upon impact. Thanks to shock, not a tear was shed.
Did you know that it only takes 8 ounces of pressure to break your collar bone? So, when I saw the X-ray, I wasn't really surpirsed. Especially not after I recalled that unappetizing crunch.
It took six weeks for my bone to reattach to itself and that meant six weeks of no tae kwon do.
I was a green belt at the time. I just got it and I had two months to get ready to test for my blue belt. So, I spent my broken days writing left-handed and attending TKD on the side lines. I would watch my peers deliver the one step sparring techniques, taeguk sam jang, and the various kicks we needed to learn for board breaking.
I watched and practiced what I could, until six weeks passed, and my six week incarceration was up. I immediately returned to Kim's Academy and began performing what I'd watched my cohorts do. I had two weeks but I told my sabumnim that I wanted to participate in the next test. He was a little dubious considering the time I had and how I'd busied myself being broken for the first half of it. But, I still had two weeks and he let me train for the testing.
I came into the do jang almost everyday for those two weeks and practiced. When the time came, I felt ready. I handed over my testing fee and application, slapped on my green belt over my white do bok, and stood ready for anything.
I delivered. I did taeguk sam jang expertly (in my mind, that is) and did my three one-step sparring techniques, and broke my particle wood with an axe kick as if I'd had the full two months. When the test was just at its end, I felt on top of the world. Everyone was lined up, awaiting the results. One by one, everyone around me had their names called by my sabumnim. If your name was called, you passed. Finally I heard my name. Grinning, but trying to be stoic, I stood and received my new blue belt.
Then, my sabumnim stood, congratulated us all and instructed us to don our brand new belts. After all the pleasantries had ended and the participants were returning back to their parents, my sabumnim dropped by and grabbed my attention. He was nothing but smiles, as usual, but this time there was something a little deeper in his joy. "I had a feeling you could do it, and you passed with flying colors," he told me and gently patted my shoulder. And what was nice about that compliment, other than the fact that it was a compliment, was that, all along I had a feeling that I could do it, too.
I was starting to believe in myself.
It was March-ish and I was outside my high school in the baseball field for P.E. class. The sun was beating down, my hair was in my face, and I was really not wanting to play soft ball for 20% of my grade.
But, alas, the time had come. I left the side of my good friend and went up to the plate. It was my turn to bat. Full of confidence that I was going to miss the pitch and safely run back to the side lines, I geared up and tightened my grip on the bat.
She threw the pitch, I drew the bat back, then swung it forward, and it
...hit!
The ball tapped the tip of my bat and trounced lazily in some direction I didn't care to watch. I threw the bat on the ground and bolted to first base. I landed safely, but I felt particularly bold that day.
I saw second base. I looked for the ball. The ball still hadn't been gathered by my opponents. So, with one leg stretched in front of the other, I ran for second base, I ran for the goal, and I ran for glory.
After a million lengthy, time consuming strides, I hit second. Literally. I hit second base, tripped, and fell.
I fell on my shoulder, my arm crumpling beneath me, and I heard a loud "crunch." I ducked, rolled, and jumped back up onto my feet and yelled, "Safe!" to which the pitcher (or someone) responded, "No, you're not." I hid my sorrow, admitted defeat, and then happily returned to the side lines and my friend.
I started walking back to my friend, casually swinging my arms in stride, but when my right arm swung, it didn't feel right. It ...hurt!
Worry wrenched throughout my stomach like a dull knife; what if I had dislocated my shoulder?? My path to out of the way was disbarred and I went to the teacher. I told the substitute teacher of my feared ailment, and he directed me to the school physical therapist.
I had my friend escort me (mostly to get her out of playing soft ball) and we went to the physical therapist's office. I told her what had happened and she poked and prodded asking whether or not this poke hurt or that prod didn't.
Then, she turned her back on me and started scribbling. "So," I said hesitantly. "What should I do now?" Without turning to look at me, she responded: "Nothing until you've seen a doctor."
Distraught, I took her advice none the less and went to the insta-care. There was more poking and prodding by an actual doctor this time, and then an X-ray. And sure, enough, my collar bone had snapped in half upon impact. Thanks to shock, not a tear was shed.
Did you know that it only takes 8 ounces of pressure to break your collar bone? So, when I saw the X-ray, I wasn't really surpirsed. Especially not after I recalled that unappetizing crunch.
It took six weeks for my bone to reattach to itself and that meant six weeks of no tae kwon do.
I was a green belt at the time. I just got it and I had two months to get ready to test for my blue belt. So, I spent my broken days writing left-handed and attending TKD on the side lines. I would watch my peers deliver the one step sparring techniques, taeguk sam jang, and the various kicks we needed to learn for board breaking.
I watched and practiced what I could, until six weeks passed, and my six week incarceration was up. I immediately returned to Kim's Academy and began performing what I'd watched my cohorts do. I had two weeks but I told my sabumnim that I wanted to participate in the next test. He was a little dubious considering the time I had and how I'd busied myself being broken for the first half of it. But, I still had two weeks and he let me train for the testing.
I came into the do jang almost everyday for those two weeks and practiced. When the time came, I felt ready. I handed over my testing fee and application, slapped on my green belt over my white do bok, and stood ready for anything.
I delivered. I did taeguk sam jang expertly (in my mind, that is) and did my three one-step sparring techniques, and broke my particle wood with an axe kick as if I'd had the full two months. When the test was just at its end, I felt on top of the world. Everyone was lined up, awaiting the results. One by one, everyone around me had their names called by my sabumnim. If your name was called, you passed. Finally I heard my name. Grinning, but trying to be stoic, I stood and received my new blue belt.
Then, my sabumnim stood, congratulated us all and instructed us to don our brand new belts. After all the pleasantries had ended and the participants were returning back to their parents, my sabumnim dropped by and grabbed my attention. He was nothing but smiles, as usual, but this time there was something a little deeper in his joy. "I had a feeling you could do it, and you passed with flying colors," he told me and gently patted my shoulder. And what was nice about that compliment, other than the fact that it was a compliment, was that, all along I had a feeling that I could do it, too.
I was starting to believe in myself.
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
Stuff White-And-A-Half Belts Like
WHUD!!
Is what it started with. It was my second month in pursuing my dream to become like Jackie Chan and I had my white belt. As a matter of fact, it took at least a month to just get my do bok (that's uniform) because I started to work right away at Kim's Academy of Tae Kwon Do.
The do bok alone cost $40, so I got my mom's signature to decorate the dotted line at the bottom of my permission slip - which was really more of a waiver - and I started to work immediately after that to earn my first step to being a martial artist.
But I digress.
WHUD was where it started. I had just mastered the amazingly tough, amazingly talented round house kick, with the aid of my best friend, at our school's all-annual Festival of Roses. Not the proper place, I suppose, but I got it done. And now that the round house had been kicked into submission and submitted to my memory lobe, I was ready to move on to the jump front kick. Along with this kick mastery, I was bestowed with the gift of a stripe. A green stripe, to be exact, placing me at the impeccable white 1/2 belt. Which meant that now, I was prepared for anything.
It was at the do jang. I was in my do bok, with my wondrous white belt. And my homie, Daniel, was by my side. I ran, jumped, lifted my knee, then thrusted out my second leg, executing the kick expertly. Gravity came into effect and I started to come down from my kick, I could feel my feet land back on the ground, like a cat dropped over a balcony.
Except, I didn't. Cat-like, I was not. My feet kept traveling in front of me and I landed flat on my back. WHUD. However, I was unabashed and unleashed a healthy guffaw that fogged up the crisp Saturday morning. This unabashed laugh mostly came from the fact that Daniel had done the exact same thing not moments before I did. When he hit the ground, I laughed. Unrelenting and immediate.
Daniel and I were tight back in the day, he was one of my first TKD-related friends. Then, one day, when I returned from a vacation in Estas Park, Colorado, he was gone. I never saw him again. But, not to fear, my best friend showed up pretty regularly and she was a black belt. That meant that she and I were always partnered up in class! She helped me with all of my basic kicks: front, round, side, and back; as well as with my white belt curriculum.
Now, you may not believe this, but back then I was a relatively shy person and I didn't like crowds. So, as much help as I got from my best friend, the other black belt instructors, or chogonim, and even the master of the school (that's sabumnim), I was never quite ready to ever test for realzies.
See, testings are celebrations. They're huge and exploding with energy. There's always the nerves of testing and the adrenaline, but then it's followed by you performing, entertaining, and succeeding. It's very surreal. At least, for the shy Catholic school girl it was. Which is exactly why I avoided these huge celebrations.
The regular tests were held in in the presence of Grand Master Kim. If you couldn't make those, you were invited to partake in the make up test at the regular school in Sandy, in the presence of my sabumnim. I intentionally missed the tests that were in front of Grand Master Kim for, like, ever, but especially for my yellow belt testing.
Here's the belt line up from Kim's Academy of Tae Kwon Do: white, yellow, green, blue, brown, high brown, red, high red, deputy 1, 2, 3, 4 and then finally black. I think I avoided Grand Master Kim until I was at least brown belt.
But, of all the memories I've listed before you, I think this one is a cherished one. One day, after class was over, after I'd earned my do bok and white belt, the sabumnim was showing me how he wanted me to clean the floors. It was a fairly simple Swiffer, but I looked up at him as he strapped a wet cloth to the Swiffer's mop end, and said, "I don't know if I made this clear enough before, but I really appreciate you allowing me to clean your do jang in exchange for classes here." He didn't react necessarily one way or the other. But after he had told the Swiffer what it was about to do, looked at me and said, "And it's because of that attitude that I think you'll make it all the way to your black belt. Even as a white belt, I can tell that you have black belt spirit."
I think I grinned ear to ear for the rest of the night after he told me that. It made getting that white.5 belt and all the belts beyond (in and out of Grand Master Kim's supervision) completely possible.
Is what it started with. It was my second month in pursuing my dream to become like Jackie Chan and I had my white belt. As a matter of fact, it took at least a month to just get my do bok (that's uniform) because I started to work right away at Kim's Academy of Tae Kwon Do.
The do bok alone cost $40, so I got my mom's signature to decorate the dotted line at the bottom of my permission slip - which was really more of a waiver - and I started to work immediately after that to earn my first step to being a martial artist.
But I digress.
WHUD was where it started. I had just mastered the amazingly tough, amazingly talented round house kick, with the aid of my best friend, at our school's all-annual Festival of Roses. Not the proper place, I suppose, but I got it done. And now that the round house had been kicked into submission and submitted to my memory lobe, I was ready to move on to the jump front kick. Along with this kick mastery, I was bestowed with the gift of a stripe. A green stripe, to be exact, placing me at the impeccable white 1/2 belt. Which meant that now, I was prepared for anything.
It was at the do jang. I was in my do bok, with my wondrous white belt. And my homie, Daniel, was by my side. I ran, jumped, lifted my knee, then thrusted out my second leg, executing the kick expertly. Gravity came into effect and I started to come down from my kick, I could feel my feet land back on the ground, like a cat dropped over a balcony.
Except, I didn't. Cat-like, I was not. My feet kept traveling in front of me and I landed flat on my back. WHUD. However, I was unabashed and unleashed a healthy guffaw that fogged up the crisp Saturday morning. This unabashed laugh mostly came from the fact that Daniel had done the exact same thing not moments before I did. When he hit the ground, I laughed. Unrelenting and immediate.
Daniel and I were tight back in the day, he was one of my first TKD-related friends. Then, one day, when I returned from a vacation in Estas Park, Colorado, he was gone. I never saw him again. But, not to fear, my best friend showed up pretty regularly and she was a black belt. That meant that she and I were always partnered up in class! She helped me with all of my basic kicks: front, round, side, and back; as well as with my white belt curriculum.
Now, you may not believe this, but back then I was a relatively shy person and I didn't like crowds. So, as much help as I got from my best friend, the other black belt instructors, or chogonim, and even the master of the school (that's sabumnim), I was never quite ready to ever test for realzies.
See, testings are celebrations. They're huge and exploding with energy. There's always the nerves of testing and the adrenaline, but then it's followed by you performing, entertaining, and succeeding. It's very surreal. At least, for the shy Catholic school girl it was. Which is exactly why I avoided these huge celebrations.
The regular tests were held in in the presence of Grand Master Kim. If you couldn't make those, you were invited to partake in the make up test at the regular school in Sandy, in the presence of my sabumnim. I intentionally missed the tests that were in front of Grand Master Kim for, like, ever, but especially for my yellow belt testing.
Here's the belt line up from Kim's Academy of Tae Kwon Do: white, yellow, green, blue, brown, high brown, red, high red, deputy 1, 2, 3, 4 and then finally black. I think I avoided Grand Master Kim until I was at least brown belt.
But, of all the memories I've listed before you, I think this one is a cherished one. One day, after class was over, after I'd earned my do bok and white belt, the sabumnim was showing me how he wanted me to clean the floors. It was a fairly simple Swiffer, but I looked up at him as he strapped a wet cloth to the Swiffer's mop end, and said, "I don't know if I made this clear enough before, but I really appreciate you allowing me to clean your do jang in exchange for classes here." He didn't react necessarily one way or the other. But after he had told the Swiffer what it was about to do, looked at me and said, "And it's because of that attitude that I think you'll make it all the way to your black belt. Even as a white belt, I can tell that you have black belt spirit."
I think I grinned ear to ear for the rest of the night after he told me that. It made getting that white.5 belt and all the belts beyond (in and out of Grand Master Kim's supervision) completely possible.
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
(WTF) Does This Have to do with Tae Kwon Do?
So, there I was. Standing there, outside the door, the "open" sign gleaming at me, flickering irregularly. My best friend was supposed to be there, but she was grounded for incorrectly praying the rosary. It was just me, standing in my clod-hopper shoes, knee high socks, plaid skirt, and navy blue sweater over my white, button-up Oxford shirt.
You guessed it: Catholic School.
Now, what's funny here is that I had spent the afternoon praying the rosary the wrong way along with my best friend, except I hadn't told my mom about the two demerits I got for it. And in an attempt to escape the wrath of matriarchy as well as the strict fist of Catholic education, I gathered up my courage and now stood outside of Kim's Academy of Tae Kwon Do.
I could think of a million reasons as to why I wanted to march in there and sign up for classes: it would be awesome, I'd been there before with my best friend, it was something to do, I could be like Jackie Chan. But one thing was stopping me.
I didn't have any money.
And while you think, "of course you don't have money, you're just a kid!" What I mean is, I couldn't get any money. Things were tight at home and I didn't even want to propose the question.
But I knew I had to try something! So, I gathered my green, plaid skirts about me, kicked up my white, dirt-encrusted socks, and entered. A small bell announced my presence, and I headed straight to the office. I knew whom I was looking for.
He stood tall, dark hair, dark eyes, and he surely wasn't Asian. This was OK with me, as a declared 13-year-old Catholic school girl, I didn't mind. I'd met him a few times before, but that didn't make asking any easier. I cleared my throat and waited for him to notice me.
When he did, he smiled and welcomed me. "And how are you today, Miss McCosh?" he asked jovially. "Oh, I'm all right," I responded casually. "Can I talk to you?" I asked, a little more quietly. He smiled, nodded, and closed the door to the office.
I shifted my weight uncomfortably from one foot to another. He waited patiently. "I was wondering if..." I started, faltered. I felt the confidence start to shed, like I was a St. Bernard and it had been three years since I'd gotten a new coat. He still smiled at me and waited. "I've been coming in a lot with my friend, as you know, and I've decided that I really want to start taking classes here."
His smile broadened. "That's wonderful! We'd love to have you!"
"...But I don't have the money." I finished. We were both hushed now, awkwardly letting the silence settle in and make itself comfortable. "But," I continued, kicking silence out of the nest it made for itself. "I would like to offer services in cleaning the school for you, in exchange for classes. I'll do whatever needs to be done, if you'll let me." I didn't really expect a wise business man, such as the owner of a Tae Kwon Do school in Salt Lake City, Utah to say "yes" but...
"That sounds like a great idea," he beamed at me. "Let me just get get you some paperwork." I almost started in on my saddened acceptance of his decline, until the beam he used to smile hit me in the stomach, knocking the wind out of me. It was a truly euphoric feeling.
But you were expecting that answer, weren't you? This is a story, after all.
And this story is based completely in non-chronological fact. My name is Shannon and I am a second Dan black belt. I've taught Tae Kwon Do for many years and am currently pursuing my third Dan.
At least, slowly pursuing it. I'm on my third Tae Kwon Do school, master, and association, all under the World Tae Kwon Do Federation (WTF).
It's been seven years since my little anecdote took place and this blog, "A TaeKwonDo Story," is here to detail those seven years, illustrating what the South Korean martial art of Tae Kwon Do has done for at least one person, me.
You guessed it: Catholic School.
Now, what's funny here is that I had spent the afternoon praying the rosary the wrong way along with my best friend, except I hadn't told my mom about the two demerits I got for it. And in an attempt to escape the wrath of matriarchy as well as the strict fist of Catholic education, I gathered up my courage and now stood outside of Kim's Academy of Tae Kwon Do.
I could think of a million reasons as to why I wanted to march in there and sign up for classes: it would be awesome, I'd been there before with my best friend, it was something to do, I could be like Jackie Chan. But one thing was stopping me.
I didn't have any money.
And while you think, "of course you don't have money, you're just a kid!" What I mean is, I couldn't get any money. Things were tight at home and I didn't even want to propose the question.
But I knew I had to try something! So, I gathered my green, plaid skirts about me, kicked up my white, dirt-encrusted socks, and entered. A small bell announced my presence, and I headed straight to the office. I knew whom I was looking for.
He stood tall, dark hair, dark eyes, and he surely wasn't Asian. This was OK with me, as a declared 13-year-old Catholic school girl, I didn't mind. I'd met him a few times before, but that didn't make asking any easier. I cleared my throat and waited for him to notice me.
When he did, he smiled and welcomed me. "And how are you today, Miss McCosh?" he asked jovially. "Oh, I'm all right," I responded casually. "Can I talk to you?" I asked, a little more quietly. He smiled, nodded, and closed the door to the office.
I shifted my weight uncomfortably from one foot to another. He waited patiently. "I was wondering if..." I started, faltered. I felt the confidence start to shed, like I was a St. Bernard and it had been three years since I'd gotten a new coat. He still smiled at me and waited. "I've been coming in a lot with my friend, as you know, and I've decided that I really want to start taking classes here."
His smile broadened. "That's wonderful! We'd love to have you!"
"...But I don't have the money." I finished. We were both hushed now, awkwardly letting the silence settle in and make itself comfortable. "But," I continued, kicking silence out of the nest it made for itself. "I would like to offer services in cleaning the school for you, in exchange for classes. I'll do whatever needs to be done, if you'll let me." I didn't really expect a wise business man, such as the owner of a Tae Kwon Do school in Salt Lake City, Utah to say "yes" but...
"That sounds like a great idea," he beamed at me. "Let me just get get you some paperwork." I almost started in on my saddened acceptance of his decline, until the beam he used to smile hit me in the stomach, knocking the wind out of me. It was a truly euphoric feeling.
But you were expecting that answer, weren't you? This is a story, after all.
And this story is based completely in non-chronological fact. My name is Shannon and I am a second Dan black belt. I've taught Tae Kwon Do for many years and am currently pursuing my third Dan.
At least, slowly pursuing it. I'm on my third Tae Kwon Do school, master, and association, all under the World Tae Kwon Do Federation (WTF).
It's been seven years since my little anecdote took place and this blog, "A TaeKwonDo Story," is here to detail those seven years, illustrating what the South Korean martial art of Tae Kwon Do has done for at least one person, me.
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