When I was a little girl, in that "I want to be a ballerina" phase, my mom pointed out that I am not built for ballet.
"You're too short, and your legs are too short," she told me.
My legs are not really very long; it's true. But being short can be an advantage to ballerinas. They will never tower over any partner, even en pointe.
I think that most people are not built for ballet. But parts of them can be!
For example. My legs are short, and I have slightly hyperextended knees (when my legs are straight, my legs bow ever so slightly backwards). I have no flexibilty in my back to do arabesques. However, all my teachers tell me I have wonderful feet (feet, of all things!) because they are flexible. Not to mention long, which helps give lift to jumps. I'm also short (a good thing) and on the skinny side, which doesn't hurt.
In Adult ballet, Lisa is by far the best dancer. Besides her ability, she has long legs and arms, and a graceful neck. But she is tall, which is actually not good for ballet. Still, you should see her do petite and grande allegros!
Today, Suki had Rachel show us her back flexibilty. She can do wonderful arabesques because her back bends so nicely. She's also young! Lehrin is also young, and she has nice long legs. She looks like a dancer.
My teacher last semester, Carol, has a beautiful hourglass figure--not a figure usually thought of as "built for ballet!" But she is a wonderful teacher and dancer.
The thing is, we can all do ballet. That's the nice thing about an adult class. No one there has any pretensions of going pro. We're just there to enjoy it and to work with what we've got.
Thursday, March 31, 2005
Flying!
OK. A happier note than yesterday's.
We did flying side kicks at the end of Tuesday's class. I was glad. I think I finally have them figured out.
It's kind of like a sewing machine. When you need to pivot your seam at a certain point, it helps to shorten up the stitch length so you can hit that spot exactly. Same with flying side kicks. You need to shorten your running step length so that you can hit that jumping spot exactly right.
So I do it, twice. Someone brings over cushions to jump over. Brian does it and encourages me to. (When Brian does a flying side kick, the force of the kick pushes Mr. Houtz back! Oh, to be susbstantial in size!)
I'm not sure about jumping over a cushion. So I try just one. It works! Just before I jump, I notice Mr. Carter entering the dojang. After the jump I ask Alec and Jacob's dad "Did he see me?"
Master Hughes then enters. He chats with various people and watches the jumping, too. Next tim, I ask for two cushions. I pause before I run, silently willing Master Hughes to turn around and see my jump. I ki-hap and run, jumping high and strong. Did he see me?
"Beautiful jump, Jane!"
He did!
We did flying side kicks at the end of Tuesday's class. I was glad. I think I finally have them figured out.
It's kind of like a sewing machine. When you need to pivot your seam at a certain point, it helps to shorten up the stitch length so you can hit that spot exactly. Same with flying side kicks. You need to shorten your running step length so that you can hit that jumping spot exactly right.
So I do it, twice. Someone brings over cushions to jump over. Brian does it and encourages me to. (When Brian does a flying side kick, the force of the kick pushes Mr. Houtz back! Oh, to be susbstantial in size!)
I'm not sure about jumping over a cushion. So I try just one. It works! Just before I jump, I notice Mr. Carter entering the dojang. After the jump I ask Alec and Jacob's dad "Did he see me?"
Master Hughes then enters. He chats with various people and watches the jumping, too. Next tim, I ask for two cushions. I pause before I run, silently willing Master Hughes to turn around and see my jump. I ki-hap and run, jumping high and strong. Did he see me?
"Beautiful jump, Jane!"
He did!
Wednesday, March 30, 2005
Junior black belt trouble
We arrive at the dojang to see a bit of a crowd at our class. Brian is there with his son Matthew. Savaun and Patrick are there, Alec and Jacob, too. Johanna is there, and my boys groan. "I don't like Johanna; she's bossy," says Eli. But they get dressed and come out into the dojang. They play around with the pads before class while I greet Mr. Houtz.
"Guess what happened to me on the way to class last Thursday?" he asks. "I got in a car accident."
He shows me the huge bruise on his leg, but he was otherwise unhurt. His car, however, was totalled. And it seems the other driver is out to get as much as he can from the accident.
"Well, that's what insurance is for," I say, remembering my few small and embarassing accidents. "You can just forget about it and let them deal with it."
Class begins, and we move the familiar moves: punches, stretches, kicks, basic movements. Mr. Houtz works us hard, reminding us that there's a test soon and we need to be ready. It's a warm and humid day; I'm soon sweating. Robbie and Eli are having trouble staying focused because of the heat. They would never admit it, but they've lost a bit after a week off class.
One definite downside to the class is the presence of Johanna, a junior blackbelt (age 12). None of the children likes her, and I see why. She is constantly lording her blackbelt status over the younger children, correcting them and tattling on them. Alec, normally even-tempered, gets more and more riled by her comments. "That's not a front stance! Move your foot out," she says in a whiny voice. She pushes on his back. "Leave me alone!" he mutters.
We practice forms, and I'm a bit concerned with my sons' sloppiness. Mr. Houtz seems not to notice. I wish he would; it would be good for Johanna to see how a good, mature teacher corrects students.
When we divide up for combination kicking--basically controlled sparring practice--I am paired with Johanna. I greet her and chat before we begin--maybe if I make friends she'll chill out. But no. She continues her whiny fault-finding with me. "You call that a ki-hap? No one would be scared of that!" she says. Then she lets out her ki-hap, a long yell from the throat. I point out to her that I prefer to ki-hap from my gut. As we spar, she continues the monologue. "You don't need to block me! I'm not going to hurt you! You're reaching!" And then, when she does land a blow: "Why aren't you moving back? Don't you know how to move back? I wouldn't have hit you but you are just moving in tiny steps!"
I finally stop and face her. "Johanna, people might be more willing to listen to your advice if you used a kinder tone of voice," I say. "Well, Master Hughes says I can correct people," she counters. "Yes," I say. "But remember what Master Hughes says: PCP, Praise, Correct, Praise"
She then goes on to complain about how Alec won't listen to her corrections, and how rude and bad-mannered he is. I can't take it.
"Johanna, Alec is one of the best-behaved students here. I think you might do better to speak respectfully to him. I think it's hard to teach people of your own age. It's best to teach by example rather than to correct people. Leave that to the teacher."
I hope that a friendly talk like this might help her.
What should one do in this situation? I wish our laid-back teacher would see what is going on at times, but I really don't think he is aware of the tension. He's too kind! Someone needs to step in, see the situation, and talk about it. Maybe there needs to be more explanation to people like Johanna about what being a black belt really means. Of course, I rarely see her at the dojang; she just may be out of the loop.
Before TKD tag begins, the children complain quietly about Johanna. "I don't like that girl," says good-natured Savaun. As the children begin their game of tag, I quietly speak to Alec and Jacob's dad about Johanna. He is shaking his head with annoyance. "She was goading Alec, and I told him to just ignore her," he sighs. "She just can't seem to keep her mouth shut."
Suddenly there's a rukus in front of us. Alec is stomping along, angry, and Johanna is yelling at him. "OK! Fifteen pushups, now!" she yells.
Alec's dad jumps up. "HEY!" he yells. Johanna turns. "You do NOT order someone to do pushups. Mr. Houtz does that in here. You're just getting on everyone's nerves with your mouth constantly going. You need to leave those kids alone!"
Johanna stares, open-mouthed. Everyone stands, frozen. It is completely silent.
Finally, Mr. Houtz yells out, "Let's get back to the game now. Who's still in the game?"
It's silent a while longer while the tension hangs in the air. Then a few of the boys begin to move. The game resumes.
I'm not sure what's going to happen after class. I think Johanna, Alec, Alec's dad, Mr. Houtz, and Master Hughes all need to talk.
More happened that day, but I think I'll post this and tell you about flying side kicks later.
"Guess what happened to me on the way to class last Thursday?" he asks. "I got in a car accident."
He shows me the huge bruise on his leg, but he was otherwise unhurt. His car, however, was totalled. And it seems the other driver is out to get as much as he can from the accident.
"Well, that's what insurance is for," I say, remembering my few small and embarassing accidents. "You can just forget about it and let them deal with it."
Class begins, and we move the familiar moves: punches, stretches, kicks, basic movements. Mr. Houtz works us hard, reminding us that there's a test soon and we need to be ready. It's a warm and humid day; I'm soon sweating. Robbie and Eli are having trouble staying focused because of the heat. They would never admit it, but they've lost a bit after a week off class.
One definite downside to the class is the presence of Johanna, a junior blackbelt (age 12). None of the children likes her, and I see why. She is constantly lording her blackbelt status over the younger children, correcting them and tattling on them. Alec, normally even-tempered, gets more and more riled by her comments. "That's not a front stance! Move your foot out," she says in a whiny voice. She pushes on his back. "Leave me alone!" he mutters.
We practice forms, and I'm a bit concerned with my sons' sloppiness. Mr. Houtz seems not to notice. I wish he would; it would be good for Johanna to see how a good, mature teacher corrects students.
When we divide up for combination kicking--basically controlled sparring practice--I am paired with Johanna. I greet her and chat before we begin--maybe if I make friends she'll chill out. But no. She continues her whiny fault-finding with me. "You call that a ki-hap? No one would be scared of that!" she says. Then she lets out her ki-hap, a long yell from the throat. I point out to her that I prefer to ki-hap from my gut. As we spar, she continues the monologue. "You don't need to block me! I'm not going to hurt you! You're reaching!" And then, when she does land a blow: "Why aren't you moving back? Don't you know how to move back? I wouldn't have hit you but you are just moving in tiny steps!"
I finally stop and face her. "Johanna, people might be more willing to listen to your advice if you used a kinder tone of voice," I say. "Well, Master Hughes says I can correct people," she counters. "Yes," I say. "But remember what Master Hughes says: PCP, Praise, Correct, Praise"
She then goes on to complain about how Alec won't listen to her corrections, and how rude and bad-mannered he is. I can't take it.
"Johanna, Alec is one of the best-behaved students here. I think you might do better to speak respectfully to him. I think it's hard to teach people of your own age. It's best to teach by example rather than to correct people. Leave that to the teacher."
I hope that a friendly talk like this might help her.
What should one do in this situation? I wish our laid-back teacher would see what is going on at times, but I really don't think he is aware of the tension. He's too kind! Someone needs to step in, see the situation, and talk about it. Maybe there needs to be more explanation to people like Johanna about what being a black belt really means. Of course, I rarely see her at the dojang; she just may be out of the loop.
Before TKD tag begins, the children complain quietly about Johanna. "I don't like that girl," says good-natured Savaun. As the children begin their game of tag, I quietly speak to Alec and Jacob's dad about Johanna. He is shaking his head with annoyance. "She was goading Alec, and I told him to just ignore her," he sighs. "She just can't seem to keep her mouth shut."
Suddenly there's a rukus in front of us. Alec is stomping along, angry, and Johanna is yelling at him. "OK! Fifteen pushups, now!" she yells.
Alec's dad jumps up. "HEY!" he yells. Johanna turns. "You do NOT order someone to do pushups. Mr. Houtz does that in here. You're just getting on everyone's nerves with your mouth constantly going. You need to leave those kids alone!"
Johanna stares, open-mouthed. Everyone stands, frozen. It is completely silent.
Finally, Mr. Houtz yells out, "Let's get back to the game now. Who's still in the game?"
It's silent a while longer while the tension hangs in the air. Then a few of the boys begin to move. The game resumes.
I'm not sure what's going to happen after class. I think Johanna, Alec, Alec's dad, Mr. Houtz, and Master Hughes all need to talk.
More happened that day, but I think I'll post this and tell you about flying side kicks later.
Back to the dojang
Tuesday afternoon after a long break, and we're back at the dojang. It's great to be back.
Have I told you about our dojang? Hughes Institute of Tae Kwon Do is in the upstairs of a large, old downtown building. Downstairs is Rapids Reproduction, a printing company, I guess. We share an entrance, and the dojang is up the stairs to the right. At the top of the first flight of stairs is a mirror, probably another remnant of the days when the upstairs held a ballet school.
I've seen lots of Karate and Tae Kwon Do schools in strip malls, and I'm glad ours isn't in a place like that. It would seem claustrophobic. Upstairs at Hughes, there's plenty of room for an office/shop, a place to hang coats and store shoes, and bathrooms. There's even a little kitchen area off to one side. At the end of the hall is our wonderful dojang.
The dojang itself, where we work out, looks like an old school gym. It's huge: on test days, 50 people line the floor, with crowds of onlookers on folding charis at the back. The floors are wooden, the ceilings are high, and there's a stage at one end where the Korean and American flags hang. High windows and lights softly illuminate the place.
Along both sides, workout equipment lines the walls. Apparently, Master Hughes got the machines when a fitness center went out of business. But behind the machines on one side are the mirrors, left over from ballet days.
There's one spot in the dojang where there's a dome in the ceiling. If you stand underneath that dome, your ki-hap really echoes.
I love the feeling of the place: the soft light, the dusty smell, the wood floors. I like that it has high ceilings and old walls. I like being there.
Have I told you about our dojang? Hughes Institute of Tae Kwon Do is in the upstairs of a large, old downtown building. Downstairs is Rapids Reproduction, a printing company, I guess. We share an entrance, and the dojang is up the stairs to the right. At the top of the first flight of stairs is a mirror, probably another remnant of the days when the upstairs held a ballet school.
I've seen lots of Karate and Tae Kwon Do schools in strip malls, and I'm glad ours isn't in a place like that. It would seem claustrophobic. Upstairs at Hughes, there's plenty of room for an office/shop, a place to hang coats and store shoes, and bathrooms. There's even a little kitchen area off to one side. At the end of the hall is our wonderful dojang.
The dojang itself, where we work out, looks like an old school gym. It's huge: on test days, 50 people line the floor, with crowds of onlookers on folding charis at the back. The floors are wooden, the ceilings are high, and there's a stage at one end where the Korean and American flags hang. High windows and lights softly illuminate the place.
Along both sides, workout equipment lines the walls. Apparently, Master Hughes got the machines when a fitness center went out of business. But behind the machines on one side are the mirrors, left over from ballet days.
There's one spot in the dojang where there's a dome in the ceiling. If you stand underneath that dome, your ki-hap really echoes.
I love the feeling of the place: the soft light, the dusty smell, the wood floors. I like that it has high ceilings and old walls. I like being there.
Monday, March 28, 2005
Bookworm
Was browsing in the martial arts section of the public library and came home with a couple of books.
One I really like. One Encounter, One Chance: The Essence of The Art of Karate, by Terrence Webster-Doyle. It is about the philosophy behind martial arts, a topic that has always interested me, and one I've been thinking about since my discussion with John Lemos (see Tuesday, March 8).
The author is a practitioner of a form of Karate which seeks to find the source of conflict rather than face violence with violence. The book itself is very different--one of the first sections is a chapter with one short quote on each page--and lots of white space. You get the idea that these are koans or important sayings or questions to consider, not race through.
I did race through the book, though, first, just to see what it was about. I found some passages that spoke to me:
Mistakes
"Feel free to make many mistakes. I would like to encourage you to make mistakes, but I would ask you to make them slowly so you can really see them. If we can begin in our karate practice to slow down, enjoy the form and watch, this will have an effect on the whole of our life, the life we live all day, outside the dojo"
I am so with this idea--for martial arts and for life. You HAVE to make mistakes or you will be too afraid to live. I believe that it's important to step away from perfectionism in order to grow. Grace allows this--the amazing kind of grace.
Bowing
"It seems to me that the bow is the epitome of all karate stances. When we bow, we are paying respect to the dojo and to one another. But a bow is more than that, for respect could become a mere habit . . . I feel the bow is also paying respect to the moment, in acknowledgement of the grace of each now, of livingness itself. It is such a graceful move, hands at the sides, feet together, arching the back slowly forward, eyes down."
Yes! I really love that bow at the beginnings and endings of things in martial arts. I never liked or believed in Master Hughes' early explanation (see Sunday, January 9) that bowing was like saluting. Saluting is upright and martial. Bowing is humble and arts-like.
I'm going to continue to read this book, not rushing through it, to see what I can learn.
One I really like. One Encounter, One Chance: The Essence of The Art of Karate, by Terrence Webster-Doyle. It is about the philosophy behind martial arts, a topic that has always interested me, and one I've been thinking about since my discussion with John Lemos (see Tuesday, March 8).
The author is a practitioner of a form of Karate which seeks to find the source of conflict rather than face violence with violence. The book itself is very different--one of the first sections is a chapter with one short quote on each page--and lots of white space. You get the idea that these are koans or important sayings or questions to consider, not race through.
I did race through the book, though, first, just to see what it was about. I found some passages that spoke to me:
Mistakes
"Feel free to make many mistakes. I would like to encourage you to make mistakes, but I would ask you to make them slowly so you can really see them. If we can begin in our karate practice to slow down, enjoy the form and watch, this will have an effect on the whole of our life, the life we live all day, outside the dojo"
I am so with this idea--for martial arts and for life. You HAVE to make mistakes or you will be too afraid to live. I believe that it's important to step away from perfectionism in order to grow. Grace allows this--the amazing kind of grace.
Bowing
"It seems to me that the bow is the epitome of all karate stances. When we bow, we are paying respect to the dojo and to one another. But a bow is more than that, for respect could become a mere habit . . . I feel the bow is also paying respect to the moment, in acknowledgement of the grace of each now, of livingness itself. It is such a graceful move, hands at the sides, feet together, arching the back slowly forward, eyes down."
Yes! I really love that bow at the beginnings and endings of things in martial arts. I never liked or believed in Master Hughes' early explanation (see Sunday, January 9) that bowing was like saluting. Saluting is upright and martial. Bowing is humble and arts-like.
I'm going to continue to read this book, not rushing through it, to see what I can learn.
Saturday, March 26, 2005
No classes
A beautiful day today. Sunshine, finally, after days of intermittent rain and snow. I pack my bag with my stuff and Robbie's sparring gear and head down to class.
But nobody is there. I must have missed when they said classes would be cancelled this week! It seems ironic as this is the first month we've been paying through direct deposit, and we've missed a week of classes!
More than that, I don't like to miss my workouts, especially when a) I've been home with guys all week and have missed ballet, walking, and swimming, and b) there's a test coming up.
I went for a swim at the Y, though, so that was nice. I'll have to go next week: it'll be my last all-belts class before the test!
But nobody is there. I must have missed when they said classes would be cancelled this week! It seems ironic as this is the first month we've been paying through direct deposit, and we've missed a week of classes!
More than that, I don't like to miss my workouts, especially when a) I've been home with guys all week and have missed ballet, walking, and swimming, and b) there's a test coming up.
I went for a swim at the Y, though, so that was nice. I'll have to go next week: it'll be my last all-belts class before the test!
Thursday, March 24, 2005
Master Robbie, Master Eli
Today my Tae Kwon Do instructors are my sons.
After returning from our trip to the Mississippi River Museum, we head over to
Tae Kwon Do class. The boys had been reluctant ("It's spring break! I don't want to go to Tae Kwon Do!") but once in the car, they're cooperative.
But there's no one at the dojang when we arrive. The metal gate is locked at the bottom of the stairs, and it's dark up there. We get back in the car and head for home.
On our way home, we pass the Coe racquet center. "Do you guys want to stop and work out?"I ask them. "Yeah!" they chime.
It's a cold, rainy day, and I just spent 3 hours of my day in the car, so I'm glad we'll get a workout. We begin with a walk around the track, then move to an empty squash court to do Tae Kwon Do. We pull off shoes and socks, and Robbie leads us in some warm ups. He remembers the order of the warm up correctly: middle punches first, then straight up stretch kick, outside-inside, inside-outside, front snap, and so forth.
Eli wants to lead basic moves, so he trades bows with Robbie and begins. We go through the basic moves (low block, middle knife hand guarding block, high block) and combination kicks. At some point Eli's had enough (we are all sweating), so I take over. We end with forms.
At one point, I look up to see three children looking down at us from the upper floor. I wonder if Hughes Institute has ever given a demonstration at Coe. Hmmm . . .
After returning from our trip to the Mississippi River Museum, we head over to
Tae Kwon Do class. The boys had been reluctant ("It's spring break! I don't want to go to Tae Kwon Do!") but once in the car, they're cooperative.
But there's no one at the dojang when we arrive. The metal gate is locked at the bottom of the stairs, and it's dark up there. We get back in the car and head for home.
On our way home, we pass the Coe racquet center. "Do you guys want to stop and work out?"I ask them. "Yeah!" they chime.
It's a cold, rainy day, and I just spent 3 hours of my day in the car, so I'm glad we'll get a workout. We begin with a walk around the track, then move to an empty squash court to do Tae Kwon Do. We pull off shoes and socks, and Robbie leads us in some warm ups. He remembers the order of the warm up correctly: middle punches first, then straight up stretch kick, outside-inside, inside-outside, front snap, and so forth.
Eli wants to lead basic moves, so he trades bows with Robbie and begins. We go through the basic moves (low block, middle knife hand guarding block, high block) and combination kicks. At some point Eli's had enough (we are all sweating), so I take over. We end with forms.
At one point, I look up to see three children looking down at us from the upper floor. I wonder if Hughes Institute has ever given a demonstration at Coe. Hmmm . . .
Wednesday, March 23, 2005
Tenets of Tae Kwon Do
It was a tough day yesterday for me in my other guise as college professor/department chair. I found out that "mistakes had been made" leading to one of our courses being omitted from the registration course list. The mistakes were mine, I found out later. This is not the first time I've screwed up in this, my first year of being department chair.
I was feeling pretty sorry for myself most of the day. When you're chair, your mistakes affect others, and you have to take the hits yourself, which I do. I'm feeling like there must be some limit to how many mistakes I make before . . . well, I don't know what will happen.
So I'm lying in bed at night, still feeling kinda bummed, and suddenly I think of Master Hughes reciting those tenets of Tae Kwon Do that we repeat back to him, call and response style. So what are they? I think I have them memorized:
Courtesy
Respect
Integrity
Perseverence
Indomitable Spirit
Those last two spoke to me yesterday. In Tae Kwon Do and in life, one needs to persevere, and not while feeling sorry for oneself, but with an indomitable spirit. Easy to say, hard to master, but I'm working on it.
I was feeling pretty sorry for myself most of the day. When you're chair, your mistakes affect others, and you have to take the hits yourself, which I do. I'm feeling like there must be some limit to how many mistakes I make before . . . well, I don't know what will happen.
So I'm lying in bed at night, still feeling kinda bummed, and suddenly I think of Master Hughes reciting those tenets of Tae Kwon Do that we repeat back to him, call and response style. So what are they? I think I have them memorized:
Courtesy
Respect
Integrity
Perseverence
Indomitable Spirit
Those last two spoke to me yesterday. In Tae Kwon Do and in life, one needs to persevere, and not while feeling sorry for oneself, but with an indomitable spirit. Easy to say, hard to master, but I'm working on it.
Dude.
Being a mom of boys allows one to hear, from the backseat of one's car, where one's sons and a friend are talking about a Lego Bionicle:
"He has a fire punch and an ice punch. And, dude! Look at his weapons!"
"He has a fire punch and an ice punch. And, dude! Look at his weapons!"
Saturday, March 19, 2005
Boards, Forms, and Moms
Boards
I get to all-belts class and it seems quiet--I realize it's because Master Hughes is not there. He seems to add a note of party to the class.
I work out with Brian for a bit--we try out Palgwe 2--and then Ms. Pryor calls out:
"Everyone come up and get a board. We're going to get breaking out of the way first."
I grab a 1x12x12 board out of the bin and head to the back of the dojang. Black belts are recruited to hold boards, and children break first, their 1x12x6 boards snapping smartly. Then it's the adults' turn.
Robbie has told me that green belts break with a jump reverse kick, so I watch with interest as the other Brian goes up to break. He springs into the air, spinning around, and thrusting his foot out. The board cracks.
It's my turn, so I go up with my board. I try to remember what Mr. Houtz has been telling me, but it's different to try a kick when there's a solid wooden board in front of you. I try a few times with no luck. Ms. Pryor gives me a bit of advice each time. Finally she says "You need to lean into it. You can't just kick. You have to throw your body into it." This makes sense. I'm not strong enough to crack a board with just my leg muscles, but if I put my weight into it . . .
I prepare, breathe, focus, ki-yap, turn, and break! I end up falling into the board holders, but they don't mind. "That's the way you're supposed to do it."
Stacy has to break two boards. She's a bit worried; ever since she broke her foot instead of the board, she says she's board-shy. "For the higher belt board breaks, you really need strength as well as technique, and I'm just not that strong." I commiserate. "And neither of us has much weight to throw behind our kicks," I say.
After we're done breaking, Brian and I practice our forms again, and this time a new student joins us. Her name is Amy, and she's done Tae Kwon Do before, but she's starting again and hoping for a double promotion at the test. Amy is smaller than I am, elven almost, with short spiky hair and an earring in the top of her ear. We work on Dan Gun and Palgwe 2, but stop every so often to watch board breaking.
A couple of cool ones:
Justin is standing on his hands. Two black belts hold a board near his feet. He takes aim, a practice upside-down kick, and then kicks for real. The board breaks! We all clap. "He must have made that one up," I say to Brian.
Four black belts have their hands on a stack of three boards. They stand, two on each side, legs braced, arms straight, faces turned. Ms. Pryor stands, focuses, ki-yaps twice and flies into the stack of boards in a flying side kick. The boards crack and fly up. Ms. Pryor lands in the midst of the black belts.
Forms
After breaking we line up and do our forms, starting with Chon ji. We go "by count," which means that Ms. Pryor can stop and wander the aisles ("like Master Hughes," says Robbie, who is sitting with me as I write this). Then the children leave and we do Palgwe 1. Then Dan Gun. Then Palgwe 2.
Forms are not aerobic, but I am tired as we finish. Something about the exertion of getting it righ, perhaps, or maybe just the force of the kicks and blocks and punches. It was just what I needed at this point to get my forms nice and smooth.
Moms
Lots of moms at class today. Stacy is there, as is Pam. Jane Fisher is there with her video camera; she tapes Stacy doing the blue belt form so she can watch it as she practices for the test. There's another couple of moms there, too, a woman named June and someone else I don't know. I think it's the only time when grown up women outnumber grown up men!
I get to all-belts class and it seems quiet--I realize it's because Master Hughes is not there. He seems to add a note of party to the class.
I work out with Brian for a bit--we try out Palgwe 2--and then Ms. Pryor calls out:
"Everyone come up and get a board. We're going to get breaking out of the way first."
I grab a 1x12x12 board out of the bin and head to the back of the dojang. Black belts are recruited to hold boards, and children break first, their 1x12x6 boards snapping smartly. Then it's the adults' turn.
Robbie has told me that green belts break with a jump reverse kick, so I watch with interest as the other Brian goes up to break. He springs into the air, spinning around, and thrusting his foot out. The board cracks.
It's my turn, so I go up with my board. I try to remember what Mr. Houtz has been telling me, but it's different to try a kick when there's a solid wooden board in front of you. I try a few times with no luck. Ms. Pryor gives me a bit of advice each time. Finally she says "You need to lean into it. You can't just kick. You have to throw your body into it." This makes sense. I'm not strong enough to crack a board with just my leg muscles, but if I put my weight into it . . .
I prepare, breathe, focus, ki-yap, turn, and break! I end up falling into the board holders, but they don't mind. "That's the way you're supposed to do it."
Stacy has to break two boards. She's a bit worried; ever since she broke her foot instead of the board, she says she's board-shy. "For the higher belt board breaks, you really need strength as well as technique, and I'm just not that strong." I commiserate. "And neither of us has much weight to throw behind our kicks," I say.
After we're done breaking, Brian and I practice our forms again, and this time a new student joins us. Her name is Amy, and she's done Tae Kwon Do before, but she's starting again and hoping for a double promotion at the test. Amy is smaller than I am, elven almost, with short spiky hair and an earring in the top of her ear. We work on Dan Gun and Palgwe 2, but stop every so often to watch board breaking.
A couple of cool ones:
Justin is standing on his hands. Two black belts hold a board near his feet. He takes aim, a practice upside-down kick, and then kicks for real. The board breaks! We all clap. "He must have made that one up," I say to Brian.
Four black belts have their hands on a stack of three boards. They stand, two on each side, legs braced, arms straight, faces turned. Ms. Pryor stands, focuses, ki-yaps twice and flies into the stack of boards in a flying side kick. The boards crack and fly up. Ms. Pryor lands in the midst of the black belts.
Forms
After breaking we line up and do our forms, starting with Chon ji. We go "by count," which means that Ms. Pryor can stop and wander the aisles ("like Master Hughes," says Robbie, who is sitting with me as I write this). Then the children leave and we do Palgwe 1. Then Dan Gun. Then Palgwe 2.
Forms are not aerobic, but I am tired as we finish. Something about the exertion of getting it righ, perhaps, or maybe just the force of the kicks and blocks and punches. It was just what I needed at this point to get my forms nice and smooth.
Moms
Lots of moms at class today. Stacy is there, as is Pam. Jane Fisher is there with her video camera; she tapes Stacy doing the blue belt form so she can watch it as she practices for the test. There's another couple of moms there, too, a woman named June and someone else I don't know. I think it's the only time when grown up women outnumber grown up men!
Friday, March 18, 2005
The problem with a digital camera
. . . is that it does not react to the shutter button immediately. There's this pause while it automatically focuses, etc. So what I have is some photos of "just after" something happened at Tae Kwon Do.
Like this one of me just after I did a really good flying side kick (honest!)
And this one of Alec just after he hit the pad with his flying side kick!
You photo-savvy folks: any ideas of how to avoid this problem?
Like this one of me just after I did a really good flying side kick (honest!)
And this one of Alec just after he hit the pad with his flying side kick!
You photo-savvy folks: any ideas of how to avoid this problem?
Eli's birthday
These pictures of Eli's 8th birthday did come out nice. He just wanted a small party with his friend Walker and his brother Robbie. We went to Planet X (no pictures yet) and out for ice cream at the place you can get a scoop of gummi bears on your ice cream.
Eli had a happy afternoon, a good thing for my slightly melancholy boy.
Eli had a happy afternoon, a good thing for my slightly melancholy boy.
Thursday, March 17, 2005
Tired
There are some days when it is a real struggle to get myself moving. This afternoon's Tae Kwon Do class was one of those times.
I had ballet this morning, and that went fine, but between ballet and Tae Kwon Do, I spent some time in the dentist's chair getting a crown put on. It is a nice crown, and replaced a temporary one which didnt' fit well. Still, the ordeal of being there really wore me out.
Granted I did have a hour-plus ballet class this morning AND was awakened AGAIN last night by Eli who keeps having bad dreams . . .
Needless to say, I was a bit slow in class. But, as usual, as class went on, I got my energy level back a bit.
If I had to think about exercising, most times I wouldn't do it. That's the way it is with swimming (I swim laps). Most days, I just kind of go and don't think about it. If I did, I would not go! But I get there somehow without thinking, I swim, and I do feel better.
Today we worked out with a re-breakable board. It looks kind of like an old-fashioned slate. You kick at it like a real board, and it "breaks" into two pieces . . . which are then fitted back together for the next person! I practiced my reverse kick, which worked--that time. I felt lucky as my balence was not good today.
Bruce also appeared about half way through class! I put an exclamation point there because seeing him there made me happy. He was there after riding his bike down to the bike shop for a spring tune-up. Unfortunatly, he got to see both the boys go into sulking fits because of minor sparring injuries. "It's a contact sport," I told both of them when they were done sulking. "You're going to get hit sometimes, and it will always be an accident. Remember what happened to my finger when I was working out with Brian?"
Bruce got to see me do one of my GOOD flying side kicks. "Nice technique," said Mr. Houtz :-)
There are some days when it's really hard to get writing. This evening was one. But--as usual--just doing it gets momentum going and before long, I've written a posting.
I had ballet this morning, and that went fine, but between ballet and Tae Kwon Do, I spent some time in the dentist's chair getting a crown put on. It is a nice crown, and replaced a temporary one which didnt' fit well. Still, the ordeal of being there really wore me out.
Granted I did have a hour-plus ballet class this morning AND was awakened AGAIN last night by Eli who keeps having bad dreams . . .
Needless to say, I was a bit slow in class. But, as usual, as class went on, I got my energy level back a bit.
If I had to think about exercising, most times I wouldn't do it. That's the way it is with swimming (I swim laps). Most days, I just kind of go and don't think about it. If I did, I would not go! But I get there somehow without thinking, I swim, and I do feel better.
Today we worked out with a re-breakable board. It looks kind of like an old-fashioned slate. You kick at it like a real board, and it "breaks" into two pieces . . . which are then fitted back together for the next person! I practiced my reverse kick, which worked--that time. I felt lucky as my balence was not good today.
Bruce also appeared about half way through class! I put an exclamation point there because seeing him there made me happy. He was there after riding his bike down to the bike shop for a spring tune-up. Unfortunatly, he got to see both the boys go into sulking fits because of minor sparring injuries. "It's a contact sport," I told both of them when they were done sulking. "You're going to get hit sometimes, and it will always be an accident. Remember what happened to my finger when I was working out with Brian?"
Bruce got to see me do one of my GOOD flying side kicks. "Nice technique," said Mr. Houtz :-)
There are some days when it's really hard to get writing. This evening was one. But--as usual--just doing it gets momentum going and before long, I've written a posting.
Sunday, March 13, 2005
Injury
My first Tae Kwon Do injury: a jammed finger.
I jammed my finger yesterday while we were practicing blocks, but I didn't think much about it. Later that day, however, it swelled up a bit and got stiff. It's still a bit stiff and sore today.
I have no idea how (or if) to treat a jammed finger. Bruce told me to pull on it, which I did, gingerly (I'm a bit squeamish about such things). Ellen or Kickerchick--do you have any advice about jammed fingers?
I jammed my finger yesterday while we were practicing blocks, but I didn't think much about it. Later that day, however, it swelled up a bit and got stiff. It's still a bit stiff and sore today.
I have no idea how (or if) to treat a jammed finger. Bruce told me to pull on it, which I did, gingerly (I'm a bit squeamish about such things). Ellen or Kickerchick--do you have any advice about jammed fingers?
Saturday, March 12, 2005
On Display
Saturday morning all-belts class always feels a bit like test day, and today is no different.
Master Hughes expects (and gets) instant response when he yells "OK. Line up."
"Yes sir," we all answer with a bow.
Brian and I stop practicing Palgwe 2 (he has just shown me how to do the whole thing, including a new block) and we wait for the senior belts to line up before we do. There are two new white belts today, so we are not at the bottom.
When we do our stretches I'm always a bit wary. As I have said many times before, I do not like to stretch cold, so today, I did jumping jacks and ran in place before class started. I'm warmer than usual, and can stretch better. Master Hughes isn't satisfied, apparently. He wanders by my and with a evil grin, nudges my foot back a bit. "Meanie!" I whisper. I wonder if others can get away with this. I'm not sure why I can.
Going through the usual battery of kicks, I'm feeling on display, like it's a performance. I do not like this feeling. But Master Hughes is still wandering.
"Jane," he calls out from the middle of the crowd. Jane F. and I look around. "You," he says to me. "Your foot is flexed when you do your front kicks."
I try again.
"You did it again."
"Show me, please," I ask.
He does, grabbing my foot and straightening it. He also critiques my roundhouse kick later.
I'm not the only one on display. He catches one of the children using the wrong leg. On occasion, he'll lift up a child and turn him or her around. He stops white belts and shows them the proper way to do a block--all the way back to the elbow.
No one is safe! But we all know that despite the size of the class, we'll all get personal attention. As a teacher, I need to learn from his approach.
We're all on display during all-belts. I wonder what it would be like to work out facing the mirrors. Would that help or hurt?
Master Hughes expects (and gets) instant response when he yells "OK. Line up."
"Yes sir," we all answer with a bow.
Brian and I stop practicing Palgwe 2 (he has just shown me how to do the whole thing, including a new block) and we wait for the senior belts to line up before we do. There are two new white belts today, so we are not at the bottom.
When we do our stretches I'm always a bit wary. As I have said many times before, I do not like to stretch cold, so today, I did jumping jacks and ran in place before class started. I'm warmer than usual, and can stretch better. Master Hughes isn't satisfied, apparently. He wanders by my and with a evil grin, nudges my foot back a bit. "Meanie!" I whisper. I wonder if others can get away with this. I'm not sure why I can.
Going through the usual battery of kicks, I'm feeling on display, like it's a performance. I do not like this feeling. But Master Hughes is still wandering.
"Jane," he calls out from the middle of the crowd. Jane F. and I look around. "You," he says to me. "Your foot is flexed when you do your front kicks."
I try again.
"You did it again."
"Show me, please," I ask.
He does, grabbing my foot and straightening it. He also critiques my roundhouse kick later.
I'm not the only one on display. He catches one of the children using the wrong leg. On occasion, he'll lift up a child and turn him or her around. He stops white belts and shows them the proper way to do a block--all the way back to the elbow.
No one is safe! But we all know that despite the size of the class, we'll all get personal attention. As a teacher, I need to learn from his approach.
We're all on display during all-belts. I wonder what it would be like to work out facing the mirrors. Would that help or hurt?
Self-Defense?
I spent part of this morning learning how to take down a bad guy if he grabs my arm.
We did self defense today, probably considered the most useful part of Tae Kwon Do. I'm not sure it's really THAT useful. Master Hughes said that for 29 years, he could say ("proudly") that he never had to resort to martial arts in a fight. Recently, he did have to use self-defense, but once in more than 29 years?
I think some of the women in the class really thought this would be useful when defending oneself against, oh, say, a rapist. But I kept thinking that most rapists are people the victim knows. She doesn't realize there's a threat until the rapist is way within her personal space, not out where her feet can defend her.
We did learn one move that would actually be helpful in such situations: how to take someone down when he grabs you from behind. Once I figured it out, it was kind of interesting. Still, I think I was best at the moves that involved escape--my run away instinct is pretty strong.
We did self defense today, probably considered the most useful part of Tae Kwon Do. I'm not sure it's really THAT useful. Master Hughes said that for 29 years, he could say ("proudly") that he never had to resort to martial arts in a fight. Recently, he did have to use self-defense, but once in more than 29 years?
I think some of the women in the class really thought this would be useful when defending oneself against, oh, say, a rapist. But I kept thinking that most rapists are people the victim knows. She doesn't realize there's a threat until the rapist is way within her personal space, not out where her feet can defend her.
We did learn one move that would actually be helpful in such situations: how to take someone down when he grabs you from behind. Once I figured it out, it was kind of interesting. Still, I think I was best at the moves that involved escape--my run away instinct is pretty strong.
Friday, March 11, 2005
Ballet/Tae Kwon Do connection again
Yesterday I was able to make a ballet/Tae Kwon Do connection in class.
Alec, the intense 10-year-old who will be up for his black belt next test was practicing his new form which includes a 360 jump turn. He was having trouble staying balanced when he came down from the turn. I was goofing around practicing grand tours en rond while he was jumping (they are 360 jump turns that male ballet dancers do), and I noticed something.
"Hey, Alec, try spotting!" I showed him how to spot, and I do believe it helped him! I think his dad was impressed.
"See, you need to listen to ballerinas," I joked.
Alec, the intense 10-year-old who will be up for his black belt next test was practicing his new form which includes a 360 jump turn. He was having trouble staying balanced when he came down from the turn. I was goofing around practicing grand tours en rond while he was jumping (they are 360 jump turns that male ballet dancers do), and I noticed something.
"Hey, Alec, try spotting!" I showed him how to spot, and I do believe it helped him! I think his dad was impressed.
"See, you need to listen to ballerinas," I joked.
Mirrors
I love ballet, but one thing I don't love about it is that it's a performing art. I do not really like performing. I participated in a conference this weekend, and gave a presentation. It went well, but I did not like doing it. It's like writing: I like having presented, not presenting itself.
So I have this weird deal going on about loving doing performing arts (I love singing, playing music, ballet) but not liking to perform.
In ballet, we're always looking in those mirrors, always being told to look toward the "audience," even when we're just having a class. If we are to be what I imagine we’re supposed to be in ballet--a beautiful physical embodiment of music--we need to be aware of whether we are indeed beautiful. So in class, of course, our audience is the mirror, which is a bit creepy to think about.
When I look toward the mirror as I'm supposed to, I think about moving with grace and beauty. That’s OK, but when I stop moving, I often begin to do this silent, female critique thingee that maybe other women will recognize: "are my upper thighs fat? Wow, my arms are skinny. I should have put on makeup this morning--I'm too old to go without it." That's one thing I do not like about ballet: the constant attention to appearance.
It's not that way with the kinds of physical activities my sister likes: basketball, softball, that sort of thing. You just do them, and it only matters HOW you do them, not what you look like. More healthy for a girl or woman's self-image, I would say.
That's one thing I do like about Tae Kwon Do. There is attention to how your form looks, but you wear this--OK--rather UGLY uniform, so you aren't able to be critical of your own body in the way you are in ballet. Still, you're being watched, always, like during the whole-class chun jee and the flying side kicks yesterday. And we do have mirrors (you may remember that the dojang used to be a ballet studio . . . how appropriate!)
Maybe, though, this is only my weirdness and other women dancers aren't so aware of those critical voices popping up. Oh, and there ARE praising voices, too ("my waist is still small! I hope she notices my feet! Look at my great battement! I am feeling so graceful today") but just that attention to looks--positive or negative, though it's PART of ballet, seems also to distract from it.
But I love ballet!
I guess I love it most because I get to BE music when I’m doing ballet. I really think that being the incarnation of music is the best part, and when I think about that, I’m OK. I’m even beautiful.
So I have this weird deal going on about loving doing performing arts (I love singing, playing music, ballet) but not liking to perform.
In ballet, we're always looking in those mirrors, always being told to look toward the "audience," even when we're just having a class. If we are to be what I imagine we’re supposed to be in ballet--a beautiful physical embodiment of music--we need to be aware of whether we are indeed beautiful. So in class, of course, our audience is the mirror, which is a bit creepy to think about.
When I look toward the mirror as I'm supposed to, I think about moving with grace and beauty. That’s OK, but when I stop moving, I often begin to do this silent, female critique thingee that maybe other women will recognize: "are my upper thighs fat? Wow, my arms are skinny. I should have put on makeup this morning--I'm too old to go without it." That's one thing I do not like about ballet: the constant attention to appearance.
It's not that way with the kinds of physical activities my sister likes: basketball, softball, that sort of thing. You just do them, and it only matters HOW you do them, not what you look like. More healthy for a girl or woman's self-image, I would say.
That's one thing I do like about Tae Kwon Do. There is attention to how your form looks, but you wear this--OK--rather UGLY uniform, so you aren't able to be critical of your own body in the way you are in ballet. Still, you're being watched, always, like during the whole-class chun jee and the flying side kicks yesterday. And we do have mirrors (you may remember that the dojang used to be a ballet studio . . . how appropriate!)
Maybe, though, this is only my weirdness and other women dancers aren't so aware of those critical voices popping up. Oh, and there ARE praising voices, too ("my waist is still small! I hope she notices my feet! Look at my great battement! I am feeling so graceful today") but just that attention to looks--positive or negative, though it's PART of ballet, seems also to distract from it.
But I love ballet!
I guess I love it most because I get to BE music when I’m doing ballet. I really think that being the incarnation of music is the best part, and when I think about that, I’m OK. I’m even beautiful.
Thursday, March 10, 2005
On Display
I love ballet, but one thing I don't love about it is that it's a performing art. I do not really like performing. I participated in a conference this weekend, and gave a presentation. It went well, but I did not like doing it. It's like writing: I like having presented, not presenting itself.
So I have this weird deal going on about loving doing performing arts (I love singing, playing music, ballet) but not liking to perform.
In ballet, we're always looking in those mirrors, always being told to look toward the "audience," even when we're just having a class. In class, of course, our audience is the mirror, which is a bit creepy to think about.
When I look toward the mirror as I'm supposed to, I begin to do this silent, female critique thingee that maybe other women will recognize: "are my upper thighs fat? Wow, my arms are skinny. I should have put on makeup this morning--I'm too old to go without it." That's one thing I do not like about ballet: the constant attention to appearance.
It's not that way with the kinds of physical activities my sister likes: basketball, softball, that sort of thing. You just do them, and it only matters HOW you do them, not what you look like. More healthy for a girl or woman's self-image, I would say.
That's one thing I do like about Tae Kwon Do. There is attention to how your form looks, but you wear this--OK--rather UGLY uniform, so you aren't able to be critical of your own body in the way you are in ballet. Still, you're being watched, always, like during the whole-class chun jee and the flying side kicks yesterday.
Maybe, though, this is only my weirdness and other women dancers aren't so aware of those critical voices popping up. Oh, and there ARE praising voices, too ("my waist is still small! I hope she notices my feet! Look at my great battement") but just that attention to looks--positive or negative, though it's PART of ballet, seems also to distract from it.
So I have this weird deal going on about loving doing performing arts (I love singing, playing music, ballet) but not liking to perform.
In ballet, we're always looking in those mirrors, always being told to look toward the "audience," even when we're just having a class. In class, of course, our audience is the mirror, which is a bit creepy to think about.
When I look toward the mirror as I'm supposed to, I begin to do this silent, female critique thingee that maybe other women will recognize: "are my upper thighs fat? Wow, my arms are skinny. I should have put on makeup this morning--I'm too old to go without it." That's one thing I do not like about ballet: the constant attention to appearance.
It's not that way with the kinds of physical activities my sister likes: basketball, softball, that sort of thing. You just do them, and it only matters HOW you do them, not what you look like. More healthy for a girl or woman's self-image, I would say.
That's one thing I do like about Tae Kwon Do. There is attention to how your form looks, but you wear this--OK--rather UGLY uniform, so you aren't able to be critical of your own body in the way you are in ballet. Still, you're being watched, always, like during the whole-class chun jee and the flying side kicks yesterday.
Maybe, though, this is only my weirdness and other women dancers aren't so aware of those critical voices popping up. Oh, and there ARE praising voices, too ("my waist is still small! I hope she notices my feet! Look at my great battement") but just that attention to looks--positive or negative, though it's PART of ballet, seems also to distract from it.
Tuesday, March 08, 2005
Why I'm home today . . .
So maybe you're wondering why I'm home today, writing about Tae Kwon Do and Philosophy (see the posting below) and not at Tae Kwon Do class. Well, we decided to put off our class until tomorrow. Robbie said he was "tired" so I suggested a Wednesday-Saturday schedule for this week.
It works for me. I'm tired today, too--I took the Tuesday ballet class this morning, which was great. There were just 4 of us (I was really hoping to see Katharine, but she wasn't there) and the sun shone in the big windows.
It is always, always great to do ballet. I just love the way it feels to work out at the barre. Those plies--the way you need to get your body into alignment, the way you both bend down and pull up at the same time. The graceful port-de-bras. Man, it is so wonderful. And we had longer during this class, I think. We worked on ballenets and I finally got them! Brush-fold, step, step. Brush-fold, step, step. We also worked a bit on turns, and once again I noticed that since I began taking Tae Kwon Do, turns have been easier. There's a lot of balance in both arts, and spotting to the front is important in both.
I'm going to do ballet again on Thurs. That means my week will be Mon: swim. Tues: ballet. Wed: Tae Kwon Do Thurs: Ballet. Fri: day off! Sat: Tae Kwon Do. Can you tell I love/need to move?
It works for me. I'm tired today, too--I took the Tuesday ballet class this morning, which was great. There were just 4 of us (I was really hoping to see Katharine, but she wasn't there) and the sun shone in the big windows.
It is always, always great to do ballet. I just love the way it feels to work out at the barre. Those plies--the way you need to get your body into alignment, the way you both bend down and pull up at the same time. The graceful port-de-bras. Man, it is so wonderful. And we had longer during this class, I think. We worked on ballenets and I finally got them! Brush-fold, step, step. Brush-fold, step, step. We also worked a bit on turns, and once again I noticed that since I began taking Tae Kwon Do, turns have been easier. There's a lot of balance in both arts, and spotting to the front is important in both.
I'm going to do ballet again on Thurs. That means my week will be Mon: swim. Tues: ballet. Wed: Tae Kwon Do Thurs: Ballet. Fri: day off! Sat: Tae Kwon Do. Can you tell I love/need to move?
Philosophy
I had a conversation with a philosopher yesterday. I interviewed John Lemos for a faculty profile I'm doing for the Courier. I love these profiles. I tell everyone I chat with my friends, write up something nice about them, and get paid for it!
I have taken exactly one philosophy course in my life, so it was good to hear John's description of what he did in class and what "doing philosophy" was like. "We talk about whether there's an objective basis for morality, whether God exists, about the nature of knowledge . . . " Sounds cool to me, though a bit heady.
John doesn't just live the life of the mind, though. He is quite athletic. He's been competing in triathelons for the past couple of years ("One of those "40" things?" I asked him. He didn't say.) He also fishes, and there's a picture of him holding a big fish (a pike?) on his door.
John said that the life of the body helps with the life of the mind. This is something I've always believed was true. "After exercising, I'm both relaxed and energetic. I'm ready to think."
We got to talking about Tae Kwon Do. Apparently, his brother is really into martial arts--even wrote a book about it. John wanted to know whether our Tae Kwon Do school "taught the morals of Tae Kwon Do." I said I thought the tenets of Tae Kwon Do were taught implicitly through the way class was run, etc. I forgot about the way Master Hughes ends class with a recitation of the tenets of Tae Kwon Do.
John and I also discussed Aikido. He is also interested in this version of martial arts. I'm intrigued, too, and maybe I'll take it sometime. It's the martial art in which you turn your opponent's force against him/her through the use of pressure points, throws, etc.
I gave John the address to this blog. I hope he visits!
I have taken exactly one philosophy course in my life, so it was good to hear John's description of what he did in class and what "doing philosophy" was like. "We talk about whether there's an objective basis for morality, whether God exists, about the nature of knowledge . . . " Sounds cool to me, though a bit heady.
John doesn't just live the life of the mind, though. He is quite athletic. He's been competing in triathelons for the past couple of years ("One of those "40" things?" I asked him. He didn't say.) He also fishes, and there's a picture of him holding a big fish (a pike?) on his door.
John said that the life of the body helps with the life of the mind. This is something I've always believed was true. "After exercising, I'm both relaxed and energetic. I'm ready to think."
We got to talking about Tae Kwon Do. Apparently, his brother is really into martial arts--even wrote a book about it. John wanted to know whether our Tae Kwon Do school "taught the morals of Tae Kwon Do." I said I thought the tenets of Tae Kwon Do were taught implicitly through the way class was run, etc. I forgot about the way Master Hughes ends class with a recitation of the tenets of Tae Kwon Do.
John and I also discussed Aikido. He is also interested in this version of martial arts. I'm intrigued, too, and maybe I'll take it sometime. It's the martial art in which you turn your opponent's force against him/her through the use of pressure points, throws, etc.
I gave John the address to this blog. I hope he visits!
Thursday, March 03, 2005
Class as Event?
I haven't written for a while because Tuesday's class was so discouraging!
There's a very disruptive boy who occasionally shows up at TTh Ninja kids. He was there Tuesday and his presence really affected the mood of the class. He slouches into class with dirty, too-long pants and t-shirt. He loudly badgers the teacher ("I'm tired! Do we have to do this? Can I have a drink? The toilet is clogged up--will you fix it? Can I have a break?") and spends the class falling down, kicking sloppily, and laughing inappropriately.
A couple of kids were able to concentrate despite his bad, attention-seeking behavior, but most (including mine) were not. This turned the entire class into a loud, disjointed, undisciplined, unpleasant experience.
As an extra adult (Brian was also there with his son, Matthew), I felt I needed to help keep order, which exhausted me. I can do it with my own (would prefer not to!), but disciplining other people's children while trying to learn wipes me out. I felt stressed and frustrated when I left. I also felt bad for Mr. Houtz.
Saturday's class (and most classes without this child) are completely opposite: on Saturday, class is an event. When Master Hughes enters and yells, "line up!" everyone shouts "yes, sir" right away and does it. He wanders the aisles (Saturday's class is huge) and gently corrects those who need it. Something about the atmosphere of those classes makes them seem like an event, like test day every day. It's the ritual, I think: the bowing, the neat lines, Master Hughes's commanding voice.
You'd think that would be more exhausting than a loosely-run class, but it is not. The discipline is a kind of envelope around all of us, helping us know what to do next and allowing us to focus just on what we're learning.
I keep trying to get the boys to come to one of Master Hughes's big classes, but they insist they like small classes better. And when there are no disruptive students, the small TTh classes ARE wonderful. But there's something about participating in one of those big class events.
I did do a nice couple of flying side kicks at the end of Tuesday's unpleasant class. Mr. Houtz saw the first one and said "beautiful kick!" :-) My last one was awful; I stuttered, then jumped awkwardly and came down on Brian's foot! Ow!
There's a very disruptive boy who occasionally shows up at TTh Ninja kids. He was there Tuesday and his presence really affected the mood of the class. He slouches into class with dirty, too-long pants and t-shirt. He loudly badgers the teacher ("I'm tired! Do we have to do this? Can I have a drink? The toilet is clogged up--will you fix it? Can I have a break?") and spends the class falling down, kicking sloppily, and laughing inappropriately.
A couple of kids were able to concentrate despite his bad, attention-seeking behavior, but most (including mine) were not. This turned the entire class into a loud, disjointed, undisciplined, unpleasant experience.
As an extra adult (Brian was also there with his son, Matthew), I felt I needed to help keep order, which exhausted me. I can do it with my own (would prefer not to!), but disciplining other people's children while trying to learn wipes me out. I felt stressed and frustrated when I left. I also felt bad for Mr. Houtz.
Saturday's class (and most classes without this child) are completely opposite: on Saturday, class is an event. When Master Hughes enters and yells, "line up!" everyone shouts "yes, sir" right away and does it. He wanders the aisles (Saturday's class is huge) and gently corrects those who need it. Something about the atmosphere of those classes makes them seem like an event, like test day every day. It's the ritual, I think: the bowing, the neat lines, Master Hughes's commanding voice.
You'd think that would be more exhausting than a loosely-run class, but it is not. The discipline is a kind of envelope around all of us, helping us know what to do next and allowing us to focus just on what we're learning.
I keep trying to get the boys to come to one of Master Hughes's big classes, but they insist they like small classes better. And when there are no disruptive students, the small TTh classes ARE wonderful. But there's something about participating in one of those big class events.
I did do a nice couple of flying side kicks at the end of Tuesday's unpleasant class. Mr. Houtz saw the first one and said "beautiful kick!" :-) My last one was awful; I stuttered, then jumped awkwardly and came down on Brian's foot! Ow!
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