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.
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