"The way I see it, if you want the rainbow, you gotta put up with the rain."
- Dolly Parton,
Legendary country music singer and songwriter
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Friday, June 11, 2010
The Magic Belt
On their birthday, my young students create grand plans of fun and frolic with family and friends, but many make time to attend – of all things – Taekwondo class.
Let’s be clear: It’s not because at 7 or 8 years old they’re die-hard, dedicated martial artists.
It’s because they know they’ll get to wear the “Happy Birthday Black Belt.”
This two-inch wide piece of stiff black cloth – years ago embroidered in gold thread with the words “Happy” on one tail and “Birthday” on the other – seems to have magical spirit. In the past, it has given shy kids a booming, powerful voice; turned meek students into bold, confident junior instructors; and made pouters straighten their bottom lip and feel brave and unstoppable.
Yesterday, our school had another birthday in the house, and I got to see the magic happen again.
Meek and mild Eliza quietly stood by my side in the dojang before class, waiting her turn to talk to me. Eliza – with beautiful, wavy blond locks, a seemingly fragile body, and some missing front teeth – received the school’s “Sweetest Spirit Award” at our anniversary party in February.
“Miss Shapathy,” she said quietly, still trying to adjust to speaking clearly with her missing teeth, “I’m seven now.”
I beamed. “Well, then, I guess someone needs to wear the Happy Birthday black belt!”
As Eliza stood there, a wide smile curled on her face. In that moment, she was both the exceptionally sweet, gentle, and kind spirit she’s known to be, and yet just another kid excited about the chance to feel special.
I was happy to oblige. As I double wrapped the thick black belt around her waist – the tails almost touched the floor – her lips stretched wider still and then curved up at both ends. She was so proud of herself.
I was proud of her, too.
And then it happened.
Sweet, little Eliza stood in the front line with me, faced her classmates, and helped another student lead the warm-up. Her commands were strong and confident.
“Laps. Shijak!,” Eliza boomed, telling her classmates in Korean to follow her in a jog around the dojang floor.
I eyed her mom, who was watching from the lobby, and we both had to smile and give a little “Oh, my God!” chuckle. She was precious and impressive at the same time.
“She’s been telling me for weeks about wearing that belt,” her mother said while Eliza continued barking commands to her classmates.
“Stop!” Eliza yelled. “Switch directions. Shijak!”
Eliza had a blast as Leader for the Day. You could read it on her now-red-cheeked face. She soaked up every bit of being a temporary black belt. She got a sneak peek at what it will be like one day when, as long as she doesn't quit Taekwondo, I wrap a black belt around her waist – not because it’s her birthday, but because she earned it. She got a taste of how nice it will feel when, at the end of class, she won’t have to give the belt back.
Some traditional martial artists might balk at the notion of wrapping anything black around young students’ waists before they’re ranked as true black belts. They might call our birthday tradition sacrilege, or claim that we’ve cheapened the experience or lessened the importance of the rank. (Believe me: It’s not easy to get a black belt at ANY age at our school.) So why do it? I’ve found that the Happy Birthday black belt is one of our best motivating tools.
On every birthday, I get to plant a black belt seed in that special student – and in the days, weeks, and oftentimes years to come, I get to watch it grow, mature, and blossom.
Life doesn’t get more magical than this.
Let’s be clear: It’s not because at 7 or 8 years old they’re die-hard, dedicated martial artists.
It’s because they know they’ll get to wear the “Happy Birthday Black Belt.”
This two-inch wide piece of stiff black cloth – years ago embroidered in gold thread with the words “Happy” on one tail and “Birthday” on the other – seems to have magical spirit. In the past, it has given shy kids a booming, powerful voice; turned meek students into bold, confident junior instructors; and made pouters straighten their bottom lip and feel brave and unstoppable.
Yesterday, our school had another birthday in the house, and I got to see the magic happen again.
Meek and mild Eliza quietly stood by my side in the dojang before class, waiting her turn to talk to me. Eliza – with beautiful, wavy blond locks, a seemingly fragile body, and some missing front teeth – received the school’s “Sweetest Spirit Award” at our anniversary party in February.
“Miss Shapathy,” she said quietly, still trying to adjust to speaking clearly with her missing teeth, “I’m seven now.”
I beamed. “Well, then, I guess someone needs to wear the Happy Birthday black belt!”
As Eliza stood there, a wide smile curled on her face. In that moment, she was both the exceptionally sweet, gentle, and kind spirit she’s known to be, and yet just another kid excited about the chance to feel special.
I was happy to oblige. As I double wrapped the thick black belt around her waist – the tails almost touched the floor – her lips stretched wider still and then curved up at both ends. She was so proud of herself.
I was proud of her, too.
And then it happened.
Sweet, little Eliza stood in the front line with me, faced her classmates, and helped another student lead the warm-up. Her commands were strong and confident.
“Laps. Shijak!,” Eliza boomed, telling her classmates in Korean to follow her in a jog around the dojang floor.
I eyed her mom, who was watching from the lobby, and we both had to smile and give a little “Oh, my God!” chuckle. She was precious and impressive at the same time.
“She’s been telling me for weeks about wearing that belt,” her mother said while Eliza continued barking commands to her classmates.
“Stop!” Eliza yelled. “Switch directions. Shijak!”
Eliza had a blast as Leader for the Day. You could read it on her now-red-cheeked face. She soaked up every bit of being a temporary black belt. She got a sneak peek at what it will be like one day when, as long as she doesn't quit Taekwondo, I wrap a black belt around her waist – not because it’s her birthday, but because she earned it. She got a taste of how nice it will feel when, at the end of class, she won’t have to give the belt back.
Some traditional martial artists might balk at the notion of wrapping anything black around young students’ waists before they’re ranked as true black belts. They might call our birthday tradition sacrilege, or claim that we’ve cheapened the experience or lessened the importance of the rank. (Believe me: It’s not easy to get a black belt at ANY age at our school.) So why do it? I’ve found that the Happy Birthday black belt is one of our best motivating tools.
On every birthday, I get to plant a black belt seed in that special student – and in the days, weeks, and oftentimes years to come, I get to watch it grow, mature, and blossom.
Life doesn’t get more magical than this.
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