Nothing Average About It

Last night our school conducted in-house testing for the candidates for Il Gup, Cho Dan, and Ee Dan. Testing began at five o'clock with a written exam and concluded about ten-thirty with free sparring. At the end the candidates were exhausted, some to the point of tears, but they all persevered.

It was interesting talking to the other parents about the intensity of the testing. Some parents seemed quite upset; apparently they thought their children were being mistreated. Yes, the long testing kept some kids up way past their bedtime. Yes, the candidates had to work very hard, and yes, they were only permitted two short water/snack breaks. But these conditions had been laid down very clearly in the weeks leading up to the testing, so it should have come as no surprise.

Other parents, particularly the ones who are students themselves or who are the most heavily involved with their children's training, took the whole experience in stride. They know that, at least in our school, earning a Black Belt is not easy. It takes everything you've got and then asks a little bit more.

My friend Leon told me this story this morning as we were discussing last night's testing:

Somebody asked an Aikido master, "How long does it take an average person to get a Black Belt?"

The master replied, "An average person doesn't get a Black Belt."

This morning, after a lot of water, some food, a shower, and a good (if abbreviated) night's sleep, my grandson was ready for another tough day of testing. But it turned out that today was a piece of cake compared to last night. Our school joined forces with another school at a local convention center for a day of "good-will" evaluations. If we can consider fellow students within our own school as our brothers and sisters, then the students from the other school are like our cousins. Side by side, candidates from both schools demonstrated their skills to panels of staff members from both schools, covering basic terminology, kicking, forms, one-step sparring, self-defense, sparring, and breaking. It was hard work, but there were plenty of pauses in the action for hydration and snacking. The day went quickly, and we were home by one-thirty in the afternoon - much earlier than I expected.

Tomorrow we will join our cousins again for the promotion ceremony. All the candidates' hard work and sacrifice will be rewarded in a joyous celebration, which I believe will include performances by each school's demo team and some demonstrations by staff members and candidates. And of course, the successful candidates will receive their promotions. I can't wait to see my grandson in his new Black Belt uniform.

The Big Day

This weekend my grandson will be testing for his Black Belt. There will be four hours of testing on Friday evening, followed by six hours on Saturday. Promotions will be awarded the next day, Sunday.

The past three months of preparation have been very intense. All the candidates had to complete a rigorous set of requirements in both physical and personal development. (I had to do the same thing last fall when I tested for Il Gup - see Embracing Sweat and Teamwork from August 2008).

Finding time to work on "The Book" was difficult. He couldn't very well work on it after school, because his school has a relatively late dismissal time; in fact, in order for him to get to karate on time I have to pick him up from school. He is on the STORM team, which means that he is responsible for assisting with all lower belt classes at least three times a week, so when he is at the dojang he is either taking class or assisting with class. He is also on the school's Demo Team, which takes even more time.

Luckily he was able to do the written work without much trouble, and most of the physical requirements he could knock off pretty quickly before school in the morning. But running was a problem. (See Starting "The Book" from January 2009.) Because he couldn't run effectively in our neighborhood, I tried all kinds of alternative locations. One which seemed promising was a high school track. I thought the only drawback would be that it takes about fifteen minutes to drive there, but my grandson was freaked out by the crowds of teenagers, so we only tried it once.


Finally we discovered the Rail Trail only a mile from our house. This is a wonderful paved walking and biking trail which uses the bed of a defunct railroad line. In other parts of the county there are sections which are quite long, over eight miles in at least one case, but in our area the only completed section is just under two miles. It's a beautiful, safe, quiet place, and it turned out to be just perfect for my grandson's running requirement. He could run the entire length of it and back in just over thirty minutes. If we had found it a couple of weeks earlier, he would have had no difficulty completing the required eight hours of running. As things stand, however, he falls about seventy minutes short.

He has had some emotional ups and downs during the preparation process. During the early days he was supremely confident; then when we were having the most trouble finding a time and place to run, he asked me several times what would happen if he didn't finish "The Book." (What could I say? "Of course you're going to finish it!") There was a period toward the end when he went through a lot of self-doubt and low self-esteem, which I think was related to the fact that two of his training buddies did not make it through the second pre-test and were bumped to the next testing cycle six months from now. This left him as the only Black Belt candidate under the age of fifteen. But about ten days ago Sa Bom Nim talked to him and reassured him that this was indeed his time, and since then he has been completely upbeat and excited.

So this weekend is going to be a real milestone in his life. I'll let you know how it all goes.

Humility vs. Self-Esteem

One of my favorite things to do when I am not training is to sing in my church choir. I started singing in choirs when I was still in pigtails, so I've had lots of experience. I have good pitch, I can read music easily, and I can lead the alto section with confidence. I am not, however, a soloist. My voice is too "plain Jane" for that, although I blend well with other voices.

One of the sopranos, who happens to be related to the choir director, is frequently pressed into service as a soloist, but she isn't comfortable in the role. She has a very pleasing, clear voice, but she has no faith in herself. Consequently she tends to get very nervous; this in turn affects her performance. When she finishes a solo she is often shaking, sometimes on the verge of tears because she believes she has done so poorly. But she is her own worst critic.

I make it a point to compliment her every time she sings, because I know she respects my opinion. Instead of giving her a general feel-good message, I home in on some specific point and tell her exactly what she did right, such as, "Your pitch was perfect when you hit that high E-flat." She often tells me how much it means to her to hear positive feedback. Maybe eventually my comments will sink in and raise the level of her self-esteem.

Low self-esteem is not humility. If a teacher or other respected person tells you that you are doing well, and instead of accepting the praise you hold on to your own low opinion of yourself, aren't you really exhibiting a form of pride?

Part of being humble is not making yourself the center of your own attention.

Handling Injuries

One of our students got hurt in class yesterday. We were split into three rotations, and Hector was in the group practicing jump kicks on the Wavemaster. I didn't see how it happened, but suddenly he was flat on his back with his training partner Lee bending over Hector's ankle. Apparently one of Hector's jumps had ended in a bad landing.

Sa Bom Nim, who was working with one of the other rotations at the time, immediately went over to check things out. The rest of us were told to continue whatever drill we were working on - a difficult task when the natural tendency is just to stand there and watch what was going on. From my position in the dojang at the time, Hector was in my peripheral vision, so I could tell when Sa Bom Nim inspected the damage, applied ice packs to Hector's ankle and eventually got him sitting in a chair with the foot elevated and iced. Then the rotations changed and I lost track of things. Toward the end of class I had a glimpse of Hector on his feet by the exit, and the next time I looked, he was on his way out the door. I hope he will make a quick recovery.

Injuries don't happen often in our school. Preventing hamstring pulls and similar injuries is the reason why every class begins and often ends with an extended period of warm-up and stretching. This period lasts a lot longer in the adult classes, so if I happen to take a children's class now and then I do my own stretching beforehand. Even after stretching, Sa Bom Nim is constantly reminding us to use caution when doing jumps and kicks, and especially for us older adults, to listen to our bodies and modify techniques as needed.

In sparring we are always warned to maintain good control. The only valid target areas are the front and sides of the torso above the waist and the sides of the headgear - never the face or the back of the head. But sometimes things happen. When a bunch of fully-padded nine-year-olds start attacking each other, eventually somebody's defenses will fail just when the attacker gets lucky, and somebody will take a punch to the face or a kick to the tummy. When that happens, the instructor stops the match and checks for damage in a very matter-of-fact way, then encourages the injured party to continue as soon as he can. As Sa Bom Nim often says, it's much better to experience taking a punch in a secure situation like the dojang rather than on the street or the playground.

This is where courage comes in. The old expression is, "Once burned, twice shy," but if the initial "burn" is addressed properly, the "shy" part can be controlled. I haven't been trained in this, but from what I can observe, our instructors play it cool when a student complains of getting hurt. They don't smother the kid with an oh-poor-baby routine, but neither do they insist on a stoic approach. For example, one day during opening warm-up I saw a kid back up a little too far and smack his heel against the wall. Ouch! He sat down and cried, but the instructor had him back in the lineup within a couple of minutes and he was fine for the rest of the class.

Attitude is everything. When I assist with the littlest kids (five and under), sometimes one of them will pause in his jumping jacks to gaze soulfully up at me and sigh, "I'm tired." I smile and cheerfully reply, "That's good, that means you're working hard and getting strong!" Hey, if it works for childbirth, it has to work for karate, right?

Bridge Building

Yesterday I ran into a couple of people who used to train at our karate school, but who now are well established in their own school. When we were together I had a good relationship with them, but the circumstances of their leaving were not ideal, so we have had no contact with each other since then. It was nice to see them and chat for a minute or two, but there was an inevitable awkwardness between us, as if we were friends on opposite sides of a divorced couple.

I wish this didn't have to happen, but unfortunately it seems to be a fairly common occurrance. A group can be going along very well, according to all outward appearances, when trouble can be brewing behind the scenes. It doesn't take much for dissension to erupt - maybe a thoughtless word which gives offense, maybe a misunderstood motive. At some point an ultimatim is issued, and the group is fractured.

I have experienced this kind of thing more times than I want to count. In my case the splits have usually occurred within church groups. I think I was about four years old when my parents left the church where my sisters and I had been baptized because of something the priest did which upset them. They found another church, but somehow managed to maintain their close friendship with many other members of the church they left.

Friendships don't often survive conflict, however. In another instance, my family was involved in a church group which became divided over a matter of principle. There was intense pressure to side with one or the other of the factions, but my husband and I wanted to try to work things out, so we avoided taking sides. As a result, there were people in both factions who refused to speak to us.

My husband and I have always viewed ourselves as bridge builders, so it is our constant hope that differences can be reconciled and estrangements ended. Certainly it takes time, patience, and forgiveness, as well as courage, honesty, and humility. But it can happen. Look what became of the Berlin wall!

So I hope that the next time I run into those same people we will be able to greet each other without reservation and embrace what brings us together rather than what keeps us apart.