Meanwhile, back in Taekwondo Land… The black belt test for my three girls and me was December 21. I couldn’t tell you about it yet because there was a backup at the embroiderers. Then scheduling conflicts with Sensei. Yadda-yadda. But this happened last night:
After nearly two months away, it felt weird to step back into this gym. But here we be! Youngest Daughter: “We have our black belts. We’re so cool now!” 😛
Last night Sensei said, “Your final test is, what does the Korean lettering on your belt mean?” Youngest Daughter: “It means, ‘Oh yeah!'” Surprisingly, that was incorrect. The real answer is ‘Victory.’ (I got it right.)
Here’s what I wrote, fortunately back in December, or I’d probably have forgotten much of this:
Recapping again: I got off track with my Tae Kwon Do belts when I busted my foot, ankle, and (later discovered) tibia at the end of September. Pretty much recovered, I got another belt (then only one behind my daughters) and was going to be fully caught up at the beginning of May except for tearing two ligaments and bruising two bone plates in my knee two days beforehand. (When I texted Sensei from urgent care telling him no belt testing for me, he didn’t believe me until I sent him a pic of my braced-up knee in a wheelchair.)
So, last week, when I finally FINALLY tested for red/black belt, it was kind of a big deal.
Some of you may recall that the pressure of testing tends to get to me a wee bit. For instance, Sensei has said not to do the forms too quickly because I want to show off that I know each move.
Yeah, so much for that. I moved like I was being chased by a ravenous lion and the only way to keep from being eaten was to distract him by my weird, confusing, albeit somewhat impressive he’s thinking, movements.
Another fun part was, though my girls were doing the forms with me, I knew full well I was the only one being watched, as I was the only one being tested. Normally, two people test at a time, and whenever I’ve messed up, I can tell myself, “Sensei was watching the other person at that particular moment.”
I’m not above lying to myself to get through these things.
My starting position was such that I wound up moving to mere feet from Sensei as I made my one and only major flub–probably because I was aware that he was Right. There.
I knew everything I needed to know for the Taekwondo blue belt test. It was my 6th time testing. You’d think I wouldn’t be nervous. Yet I was. As all get out. But I survived.
I wouldn’t be me, however, if I didn’t mess something up.
During the “back form,” green belt, I started morphing suddenly into the purple belt form. Fortunately, I caught it and fixed it, grateful that I was able to carry on without getting flustered or losing track of where I was. That felt semi-miraculous.
Beyond that, which Sensei may not have even witnessed, as I think his eyes were on my partner at the moment, I did a couple of minor dumb things. One was starting the second set of defense moves before being instructed to. My daughter whispered, “Not yet!” to stop me.
The other was the same mistake I made last time. When we finished, Sensei said, “Go back to your X,” the starting position. I started walking back to sit down because I was done.
As I approached, another daughter sitting there, eyes wide, said, “Your X!”
I swung around, smiling sheepishly at Sensei, as I returned to my X. He smiled back, like last time. Phew!
Eventually I’ll learn.
The next class was the belt ceremony, where we bring food to share after receiving our new belts and certificates. Similar to last time when we made churros, I thought it would be fun to make pretzels from scratch.
My girls and I are now officially halfway to our black belts in Taekwondo.
I thought it would be fun to jazz up our testing and surprise Sensei by counting off our 25 warm up jumping jacks in Korean instead of English.
I can’t tell you how excited I was to see his face when we began: “Hana, dhul, set, net, daseot…” I imagined him, eyebrows raised, failing to fight down a smile.
And how did he respond?
With nary a flinch. When we finished, he said, “Okay, next drill…”
Zero acknowledgement whatsoever!
I was so disappointed.
My purple belt.
During testing of the form itself, two people test at once. Because it’s always been my style to mess something up, I turned right when I was supposed to turn left. Fortunately, I had the sense of mind to course correct and continue unfazed.
On the way out, I said to Sensei, “I trust you were looking at the other person when I messed up?”
“Yes. I didn’t see your 17 mistakes.”
So he CAN still be funny.
“Furthermore,” I continued, “how can we count in Korean and you not react at all?”
“I can react with my ears. I heard you. And was that to earn bonus points?”
“Well, if it helps.”
“Do you know the next number, or did you only learn what you needed?”
“Sumul yeoseot.”
He nodded. “Good.”
If anything, I earned points in that moment.
The YouTube video that helped us learn.
BTW, I was out of town for several days. You know how when you board a plane, there’s that patch of walkway from airport to airplane where there’s no AC? When I stood in that spot, waiting my turn to board, I thought, “Whew! What is this heat?!” So I checked my phone.
On December 20th, my three daughters and I tested for our third belt, yellow. We started as white belts, did a super-stressful-because-it-was-the-first-one-ever test for orange, then came the yellow belt test–only slightly less stressful.
When it was my turn, I was eager to get it over with, and grateful that we start with our current form–the part I was most nervous about. After that comes our “back form,” the one we learned prior. When I performed this in an earlier class, “Sensei,” (not actually what we call him) nodded and said, “It’s like breathing, isn’t it?” So I knew I had that one down pat. The third part of the test was demonstrating our mastery of three self defense and three street defense moves. No problems there.
The weird thing was, as I did the more difficult current form, my hands were tingling. “This is odd,” I thought. “My hands sort of feel numb, but not quite. It doesn’t hurt, thankfully, but it’s strange. I wonder why that’s happening. Nerves, probably.” And the next thing I knew, I was done. I did the form without thinking, which means I couldn’t second guess or freak myself out. I smiled inwardly. “Thanks, hands! Well done.”
They were no help at the end of the test, however: the Bowing Out Ceremony.
Writing and Martial Arts 