I started as a Tiny Tiger. After three long years, I became a Junior. By my sixth year of karate, I was finally just a normal student. And in another two years, I had learned all of the necessary curriculum to graduate to a First Degree Black Belt. That was the day that everything changed.
When I was four years old, my mom brought me to the dojo for my first karate class. Since then, karate has shaped my life in a multitude of ways. It has taught me discipline and dedication. It’s given me friendships which are still strong. But for a majority of my time as a karate student, I felt like a little kid, which was displeasing to me even though I actually was a little kid. As a Tiny Tiger, we were separated from the Juniors and other students in the karate school, hidden away in a back room that had a window through which we could watch the “big” kids during class. Even after graduating to a Junior, I felt illegitimate compared to the regular students. That feeling changed with my trip to Colorado for my First Degree Black Belt
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test. At last, after eight years of karate classes, minor belt tests and countless competitive tournaments, I was at my Black Belt test, a three day challenge. Although a daunting ordeal for an eleven year old, I came prepared and determined. Untold nights practicing at the dojo and at home (mostly randomly attacking my family members) had paid off. I was ready. As we lined up for the first day of testing in that cramped karate school, my confidence was reassuring. Of course, the first day was difficult, all of us fighting for space in the small room, trying not to hit each other while we performed techniques. Nevertheless, as I heard the instructor shout the name of the next technique to perform, my body automatically carried out the command. After years of practicing, it was almost muscle memory. With every successful technique, my confidence grew. By the time we were dismissed for the day, I was practically skipping out to the car with my mom, despite the general ache my body already felt. The next day was all about general fitness. I was dripping with sweat and shaking most of the time, nothing but discipline and determination fueling me (and gallons of gatorade). After each round of calisthenics, I was sure I couldn’t possibly do one more. Yet somehow, as I heard “Alright, 45 sit-ups, 45 push-ups, 50 mountain-climbers, go!” for the millionth time, I managed to push my body to complete the demand. That day is still a blur of movement and sweat in my mind. At long last, on the third day, the Belt Ceremony arrived.
All of the candidates, now comfortably fitting into the huge gym of a local high school, formed a circle, sitting criss-crossed by our fellow warriors. The head instructor, Mr. Packer, read the name of the candidate, who arose, received their monogrammed belt, and then jogged a giddy lap around the circle, high-fiving everyone. When my name was finally called, I couldn’t help but beam as I was handed my First Degree Black Belt, all of my hard work paying off. As I jogged my lap, happily slapping every hand raised in my direction, I finally felt like one of the big kids I watched through the window for so many years. I was no longer just a little Junior, anxiously awaiting to be a regular student. At last, I was a regular student, and being average had never made me so happy. That day in Colorado marked the beginning of my karate career as an adult, and it is one that I will never
forget.
As the cessation of the century approached, Rhee had accomplished more than he had ever hoped, garnering awards and apperceptions virtually too numerous to count. He had been denominated one of President George Bush’s Daily Points of Light. His ebony belt students included not only Members of Congress, but eminent figures like Tony Robbins, Jack Valenti, and Jack Anderson. He had appeared on the cover of Parade magazine with Cheryl Tiegs. And he had been designated by Ebony Belt magazine as one of the top two living martial artists of the 20th Century.
In one of the more commonly portrayed stereotypes in film, Asians are often portrayed as great martial artists. Martial arts seem to come less as a skill and more a natural ability to someone who is Asian. Somehow, it’s right in our blood. Actors who have contributed to t...
In the beginning of the novel, one of the first scenes that happen is Anna winning a karate match. She ends up winning a trophy, which puts her on the track to winning a black belt, which was her dream. Her plan was to eventually become a Physical Education teacher, and for her, getting a black belt would be the right step towards that goal (Orr, 1997). In a way, winning the black belt would be a sort of rite of passage for her. A rite of passage is a type of ritual that transitions a person from one stage of life or social status to a different stage or status, especially the transition from adolescence to adulthood (Steinberg, 2011). For Anna, the black belt would ...
It was in my freshman year of high school when I discovered my potential to accomplish great things and the ability to prove myself through determination and endurance. I discovered this when I earned my Black Belt in karate. The journey to the Black Belt commences at the White Belt stage. From there you rank up through a series of tests, proving your skills of martial arts until the level of "High Red Belt." As a high red belt, you start training for your Black Belt test which is separate from all the other belt tests. When I became a High Red Belt training for the Black Belt test promptly began. First I received a personal trainer to
The class begins with middle punches. This entails bringing the left foot out into a sitting stance where our legs reflect a person riding a horse. The hip is rotated backwards then propelled forwards as the fist on the belt twists towards our imaginary opponent in front of us. Then Master Copper pairs each student with a partner of equal height to practice kicks. When my partner extends his sidekick, the crusty dirt on the sole of his foot brushes past my eyes, and the speed of the kick creates a breeze of stale air. In the middle of class, we incorporate the punching bags into our workout. The low belts use the tall, thin sun colored bag, and the high belts utilize the thick, blood colored bag. However, the black belts utilize “Bob the Bully”, the tan, lifelike bag with dense padding and broad shoulders. After six hours of school and at least four hours of homework, punching and kicking the toned face and rippling abs of Bob brings a substantial amount of satisfaction. As my knuckles make contact with Bob’s rigid jaw, I grit my teeth and each blow connects with more power than the last. Beads of sweat roll down my face as Bob’s head shifts from side to side following each blast of force. The instep of my foot creates indents in the sides of Bob as my half turning kicks
Going to class everyday without fail, reviewing and completely perfecting the five years of curriculum I had so carefully worked through, to the point where everything was completely automatic, and preparing for the fifty push-up requirement, were not enough. The black-belt test requires creativity through my creation of a personal kata and a self-defense to every attack I had learned. Beyond this, physical endurance and stamina are required in order to spar for ten minutes straight at the end of the four hour test, with a fresh opponent every minute. The black-belt test was the most physically grueling challenge I had ever faced and was much more mentally exhausting than any academic
Instantly, I felt as if I had done something very wrong and filled with emotion, but the class begun so there was nothing I can do about it. Later that day the, main instructor confirmed that in order to get my white belt, which I thought was something just given to you, I would need to recite the long student creed. A week later, I’d done it I got my white belt, might not seem like a huge achievement for most, but I was ecstatic, feeling like I had defied all odds. As time continued on I realized that karate was fun and that as long as I put hard work into things that I can be good at them.
When we first arrived I’d thought we’d taken a wrong turn and went to a traveling gypsy convention by mistake. The whole field outside the school was filled with tents of various sizes and colors. 200 wrestlers, about thirty of which were girls, filtered about the area. As my soon-to-be teammates and I headed to the first practice, anxiety gnawed at my stomach like a dog with a bone (FL). I wanted to impress everybody, and prove that I could make it in this sport. Before we started, the coach patted me on the shoulder. “I’ve got your back all right.” he told me. I smiled and nodded. At least one person was looking out for me.
I was able to apply these concepts in real life when I also started working with children. I was a student aide at a child care center for infants and toddlers and volunteered and shadowed OTs at a karate clinic for children with disabilities. This further put my abilities to the test to interact with children since it was on an ongoing basis. Seeing children progress through each developmental stage of life felt meaningful on a greater level. It was a wonderful accomplishment when an infant would learn to crawl, a toddler would have a bowel movement successfully in the toilet, or when an adolescent would execute a strong and skillful kata (structured pattern of movements and techniques) during his or her karate belt test. On a bigger scale, the daily interactions I had with the children at a young age helped lay the foundation for their future development, and I was happy to have served as a teacher and role model. These experiences and challenges validated that I enjoyed connecting with people and seeing them grow in emotional, physical, cognitive, and social development. Watching others accomplish their own developmental milestones made me feel like I had a
Knowing that it would be four years of relentless pestering, I knew that someday I would surpass my tormentors; I would keep under cover of my books and study hard to make my brother proud one day. It would be worth the pain to someday walk into a restaurant and see my former bully come to my table wearing an apron and a nametag and wait on me, complete with a lousy tip. To walk the halls of the hospital I work in, sporting a stethoscope and white coat while walking across the floor that was just cleaned not to long ago by the janitor, who was the same boy that tried to pick a fight with me back in middle school. To me, an Asian in an American school is picking up where my brother left off. It’s a promise to my family that I wouldn’t disappoint nor dishonor our name. It’s a battle that’s gains victory without being fought.
After having a self-reflection of myself I realized that I wanted to be distinctive, I wanted to reconstruct the way I was living. I was tired of just the same repetitive schedule that I followed in high school. I would get up at six twenty in the morning which was the perfectly set time that I determined was necessary to complete my morning routine. I would then head to school which I went through the same repetitive schedule as the previous day. Then I would travel back home consume whatever was prepared by my mother, play some videogames for hours then tend to my my homework and finally head to bed to repeat another average day. It was until one day one of my friend invited me to go to the gym with him. He took me to the gym which was not too far away from my school and lead me to the doorway to bodybuilding. It was just after a couple of
There is no other feeling like that feeling you get when the crowd is roaring, because of something you personally have just achieved. To get to those glorious moments in life that you have been dedicated to, whatever it is you are wanting to succeed in whether it is sports, music, acting, and so on, but when you reach that moment of glory you will remember that point for the rest of your life. It all began when I was in fifth grade when my dad was looking for a place that I could box at and could not find a club near us, but ended up coming upon a wrestling club called, Alabaster Youth Wrestling Association at the time which is now known as the Warrior Wrestling Club. So my dad came up to me that day I got back from school and said, “ Hey bud, I found a wrestling club in Alabaster lets check it out.” After that, practice my dad fell in love with the sport and I did as well, because I was a natural when it came to wrestling.
Once upon a time, I qualified for the Tae Kwon Do State Championships, to go to the Tae Kwon Do Junior Olympics in Orlando, Florida. It was my second year at the Jr. Olympics, and I was competing in two events. Sparring and forms. Forms has always been my favorite, partly because I was pretty good at doing them. Sparring was okay. I guess.
In my first years of life, I was the diva. I was the star. I was the only one that my mother ever paid any attention to. I was the bomb. Although my father worked very long days to provide my mother and me with a means of sustenance, there was plenty of love from my mom to nurture me as I grew into a bubbly young girl. Entering kindergarten at 4 years of age, I was similar to every other little kid. I was rambunctious, playful, naughty, and unstoppable. If I did not fall sleep in class, I would play with my dolls as the teacher lectured. Sure enough, I was reprimanded and given “time out” every time. But it was all right. My grades were average but I scored high enough to please my parents.
My opponent’s name was John Doe. There were other competitors at the tournament, but they had never posed any threat to my title. For as long as I had competed in this tournament, I had easily taken the black belt championship in my division. John, however, was the most phenomenal martial artist I had ever had the honor of witnessing at my young age of thirteen. And he was in my division. Although he was the same rank, age, size, and weight as I, he surpassed me in almost every aspect of our training. His feet were lightning, and his hands were virtually invisible in their agile swiftness. He wielded the power of a bear while appearing no larger than I. His form and techniques were executed with near perfection. Although I had never defeated his flawlessness before, victory did not seem unattainable. For even though he was extraordinary, he was not much more talented than I. I am not saying that he was not skilled or even that he was not more skilled than I, for he most certainly was, but just not much more than I. I still had one hope, however little, of vanquishing this incredible adversary, for John had one weakness: he was lazy. He didn’t enjoy practicing long hours or working hard. He didn’t have to. Nevertheless, I had found my passage to triumph.