Thursday, December 06, 2018

Black Belt

Last month my adopted pretend daughter, Sydney--that's what Darcy has taken to calling SueG's family because "they're more than just friends,"--tested for her black belt. She's been doing taekwondo since I can remember, and periodically she tests for different colored belts, which she keeps in a bag in her bedroom.

I don't really understand the sport or the meaning of the belts, but I do know that the black belt is the big one. After receiving it, you begin to gain levels in the black belt earning stripes or individual patches that attach to the strap. I think. Don't quote me on that.


Receiving a black belt takes tons of work and years of practice. Sydney has been training for this test for over a year. This summer, her teacher picked her up twice a week and ran with her to get her into fighting shape. She also attended a kickbox class along with her regular weekly taekwondo class.

Part of the black belt requirements is keeping a journal, making good grades, and getting confirmation from her parents that her room is neat and tidy, and she is pulling her weight at home. She had failed at those last two for some time but pulled it all together this year to kick ass and earn her testing slot.

I went to watch the testing. It was a two-hour test judged by a panel of instructors and black belts. They sat at long tables at the front of the room, and for the most part, were very encouraging toward the two testers, especially Sydney, who could use some confidence.

I liked the group very much.


The requirements consisted of strange and crazy things that the teacher called out like patterns, kicks, punches, and such, and Sydney had to perform them. The teacher began slowly but picked up speed until I'd totally lost count of the sequences.

But not these kids. They punched and jabbed and kicked like it was nothing. Another requirement was devising a free routine that included certain elements, and Sydney excelled at this, according to the panel. The kids also had to defend themselves against wicked-looking objects like clubs, and this nasty, sharp blade that looked like it could cut off a limb with one fell swoop.


The testers also had to break two three-inch boards with any kick or blow. The teacher wanted Sydney to break three boards, but as soon as she suggested it, Sydney immediately talked herself out of achieving it because she'd never done it before, and she had zip confidence in herself. But the teacher made her try it anyway. 

When she failed at the three boards, the teacher tossed one board aside, and immediately Sydney broke the boards in half. Once with a blow and again with a kick. It was cool.

These kids tested for two hours with a few water breaks. It was rigorous, and non-stop and they were drenched in sweat by the end of it. For the closing, everyone, including the panel, got into sparring gear that made them look like Michelin men. The testers had to spar each other and then the teacher, this little mighty muscled woman with a huge voice. Everyone stood around them in a circle and shouted at the tester to attack. It was like a boxing match with the ringside audience shouting encouraging words like kill, attack, kick, get 'em. I can see the allure of an excited, ambitious crowd.

By the time it was all over, I was ready to sign up. It's precisely what happens to me after I watch Dancing with the Stars--I'm prepared to begin ballroom dancing, and honestly, I'm sure I'm already good enough to participate in the show. 

I was fired up and ready to spar at the end of this black belt test. If that teacher had passed around a sign-up sheet, I'd of signed it.

I also got all choked up watching Sydney perform. I mean, she's another one of my kids, and I was SO proud of her. Also, a little stunned that she was capable of handling herself in this type of setting. I've not seen her in action mode other than fighting with her brother. 

Frankly, now that she has her black belt, if I were him, I'd watch myself.



Congrats Sydney!!

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