Between Us

Getting a kick out of first karate class
My hat goes off to Mr. Garcia. He seems to have eyes in the back
of his head to catch any offending student who isn’t applying 110
percent and yet he has the patience of a saint. A saint with a
black belt.
Getting a kick out of first karate class

My hat goes off to Mr. Garcia. He seems to have eyes in the back of his head to catch any offending student who isn’t applying 110 percent and yet he has the patience of a saint. A saint with a black belt.

I had to admit that The Boy did look cute in his little white uniform, with the America Tae Kwon Do Center emblem on the back in red, white and blue as he struggled to keep pace with his new demands.

Like most boys, ours was fascinated with Tae Kwon Do or any other martial art that involves a lot of yelling, jumping and kicking.

Like most parents, I was concerned that his new-found skills would show themselves in inappropriate settings on unsuspecting people. Like his sister, as the two duke it out for control over the remote. Or, in my ever-wandering imagination, on future teachers or classmates. The Husband and I did think it could be a good thing to instill self-control, self-discipline and confidence. That and the fact that home rule No. 3 is “Students shall keep their rooms neat and clean.”

I sat in the back of the class with a few other parents in chairs that lined the wall. It was hard not to get involved. The parents also have rules. One is that we can’t interact with the kids. We have to sit silently by. And relinquish control. So this is also an exercise for us as well.

I noticed that some were having a hard time. They were resorting to some sort of intricate sign language that the kids pretended not to see. There was some sighing, and more than a little chuckling as we watched as the kids looked up at Mr. Garcia’s assistant – a pretty young woman, who sported an advanced-level belt. Having said drill instructor-worthy “yes sirs” all session, they were now confronted with sudden “yes, ma’ams.” More than one kid was gender baffled.

The Boy’s class has kids of all ages, it seems. The youngest was a boy looking to be about three and his brother about six. I couldn’t help it. I was more entertained watching those two than anything else. Not only were they engaged in this ancient martial art, they were also engaged in the ancient art of sibling rivalry.

Senior Brother wanted to uphold his role as first in line. Junior Brother fought hard to push in front, using tried and true methods.

Mr. Garcia calmly warned, “Don’t hit your brother, sir. If you do, you’ll be doing pushups and standing against the wall. Do you understand, sir?” (It makes me laugh to hear a 30-something man, refer to a three-year-old as “sir,” but it shows respect. I get the concept.)

Junior Brother in loud three-year-old voice, “yes, sir!”

Now, Junior Brother understood that he had to be stealthier. I watched as Senior Brother stepped on Junior Brother’s foot on purpose, Junior Brother grabbed Senior Brother’s fingers and pulled. I couldn’t help but wonder why their mother was giving them more tools to use on each other.

As the session wore on, I could see that all of the kids were getting tired. But a “good job,” from Mr. Garcia had them all trying harder. I was impressed as Mr. Garcia looked at each child and told them that he imagined that all of this self-discipline and confidence could yield rewards of being the president, a firefighter, policeman or business owner; anything they wanted to be.

At the end, the kids bow and yell something in Korean, followed by high jumping and more yelling, before they bow to the flag. And their parents.

The Boy is fine-tuning his self-control and so am I. I didn’t use sign language even once, this time.