Small Class

I arrive at the dojang Saturday wondering if there'll even be a class. Master Hughes and Ms. Pryor have taken a load of people over to the Superfoot workshop, and Justin's at a tennis tournament. I'm feeling a bit on edge as I've left the boys alone at home to play computer games and have leftover pizza for lunch. I figure they'll be OK. They're 9 and 11, old enough to be on their own in a quiet neighborhood for an hour or so.

As I pull into the parking lot, I see a few people, all kids.

"Is there class today," I yell to John and Dylan.

"We don't know. We'll check and see if it's open," says John. "You don't have keys, do you?" asks Dylan.

I don't, but the security gate at the bottom of the stairs is open, and we go up. Cavio is there. She's signed up to teach.

It's a small group on this beautiful Saturday. I'm a bit worried as I'm the only adult. Sometimes when a teen black belt leads class, the crowd gets unruly. I take a deep breath and realize it'll be my job to keep things under control, to back up Cavio. No problem, but it's just not how I like to spend my class time--too much a busman's holiday for a mom and teacher.

But the class is one of the nicest I've been to when the teachers aren't here. Cavio's idea is to go through all the forms, then go through all the step sparring.

"This is so you can get your boards signed for those forms you don't always have time to do," she says. Wow, the class for me.

Patrick leads forms--I call him the forms genius. He remembers each one without hesitation, the rest of us are a bit slower.

Cavio asks me if I'll lead step sparring. "Yes, ma'am," I say with a bow. "Patrick knows them, too, so let him help, too." Patrick smiles proudly and bows.

So in this way, I get a lot of my board signed off, and a reasonable workout. Still, I'm looking forward to Monday's usual class, and a report from the Superfoot gang.