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.
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
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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