In the Il Do Taekwondo studio, an elderly man wearing a traditional white uniform approaches a group of students. This group, a mix of teenagers and adults, quickly forms into two rows facing this man. They don’t flinch. They stare forward as their teacher makes his way to the front of the studio. The gray of his hair shines in the lights. His eyes look weary as if he just woke up from a nap. I would never have thought someone of his age would be the instructor. He bows slowly and positions himself with a straight posture and his feet together. He crosses his arms. His movements are gentle and smooth.
Suddenly, he jumps into the air and lands with an erect stature, legs spread apart. He clenches his fists and cries “Ah-Yah!” with a roaring echo. His arms go into a flurry of movements with his kicks flying as high as his head. His motions are fluid, flowing from a punch to a block and seamlessly into a kick. His facial expression is emotionless; he only moves his mouth to breathe with every move he executes. I can’t even track his lightning-fast hands to describe them. Spectators on the side gawk at his speed and form. The students stare at his demonstration with sharp focus. This is Grandmaster Chang Jin Kang. At the end of his demonstration, Grandmaster Kang bows and walks without a word to his office at the side of the studio.
First Impressions
At first glance, I didn’t think the Il Do studio was anything special. As in any private gym or recreation facility, there is a small waiting area in the front of the place, with wooden floors and foldable chairs where parents who bring their children after school or on weekends can wait and watch their kids practice. Two offices where the Grandmaster and his son, Master Daniel Kang, conduct business occupy the corner. From the waiting area, you can see that the entire studio is the training ground. The floor is covered in blue foam mats that are tightly joined like a jigsaw puzzle. Students can watch themselves practice in the mirror that runs along the back wall.
A poster lists the order of color belts and uniforms. Traditionally, the uniform is called a dobok but everyone just calls it a uniform. Beginning students wear the standard white uniform and begin with the white belt. As they progress, they receive the orange then yellow belt. After the yellow belt, students switch to the blue uniform which makes them eligible for the low green, green, purple, blue, brown, red, and red/black belts. The students have the option to receive a red uniform at the brown belt if they choose to join the leadership program, meaning they would become instructors when they become a black belt. Becoming a black belt will lead to a white uniform with a black collar.
I thought black belt was the end of it – but I was very wrong. Getting your black belt is the start of a new ranking system. The first black belt is the first dan, or degree. There are a total of nine dans. The first to third dan allows the student to become an instructor. The fourth to sixth dan earns you the title of “Master.” Those with a 7th to 9th dan black belt will receive the honorable title of “Grandmaster.” Although there is no set number, I hear from some black belt students that it takes at least 30 years to achieve a 9th dan black belt. Obviously, it takes a lot of dedication and patience to truly master Taekwondo.
I arrive at the studio one late afternoon when a kids’ class is in mid-session. Instructor Ramin, a tall, tan man with bushy black hair, stands with a wooden board in hand, a black belt wrapped around his white uniform. About a yard away, a little brunette girl, no more than five years old, stands in the front of a line of students with her left leg forward and her fists in the air. Every student is wearing a blue uniform with a blue belt. The little girl steps forward and brings her right knee high towards the wooden board. Her right foot snaps out for a high kick. Instead of breaking the board, she strikes Ramin’s fingers. Wagging his fingers, he tells her to go to the back of the line. Parents cringe with whispers of, “ouch, that must have hurt.” I cover my smile and snicker under my breath. It is classic slapstick comedy you would see on television.
It is nothing like the Grandmaster Kang’s performance.
Grandmaster Kang founded Il Do with the intention of passing down the teachings of traditional Taekwondo. He has three masters to help him run the three studios. Grandmaster and Master Daniel Kang are in charge of the main Il Do studio, while Master Lois Shim and Master Young Jin Park direct the other two Il Do branches, which are called Elite Fitness Taekwondo. Master Lois, who is the Grandmaster’s daughter, has trained with her brother Daniel since childhood.
At Elite Fitness, the layout is similar to Il Do. I meet Master Lois. She has porcelain skin, brunette hair that is always tied up in a ponytail, and a voice that is calm in conversation but strict on the training grounds. When I ask her why Il Do and Elite Fitness are more prominent than other Taekwondo places, she pauses.
Master Lois tells me that Grandmaster makes this place different. “The knowledge he holds isn’t just professor-level but above professor-level. There are some with two years of experience but Grandmaster has over 50 years of experience. And he is old school. You can’t get that old school anymore. It’s the old, traditional way.”
Modern vs Traditional
Instructor Ramin says that Il Do is very traditional.
The majority of Taekwondo schools in America teach sport Taekwondo rather than the traditional methods. The goal of sport Taekwondo, like any other sport, is to rack up the most points. Most students who learn sport Taekwondo strive to compete in the Olympics. In an Olympic match, both Taekwondo artists must wear sparring gear, consisting of a tunic, shoulder pads, head guard, hand protectors, groin guard, forearm guards, and shin guards. The head guard and tunic are crucial for points. Each opponent steps onto the mat with the tunic and head guard showing. The rest of their gear is under their uniforms. A punch to the tunic or head earns one point. A spinning kick to the tunic will earn two points. Kicks to the head will earn three points because being able to kick high up to the opponent’s head takes more skill and range than a kick to the chest. Because kicking earns more points, schools that teach Olympic Taekwondo focus more on kicking techniques. Instructor Ramin says that if he had to give it a percentage, the practice of sport Taekwondo is about 20% fists and 80% kicking.
Traditional Taekwondo, on the other hand, is closer to street fighting than a sport. “Originally, the goal of Taekwondo is one shot and they don’t get up,” says Grandmaster Kang. “The traditional is not about points but self-defense.” The traditional way offers a balance of punches and kicks. In fact, the name “Taekwondo” translates to “way of the fists and feet.”
However, young Californians are not rushing over to Il Do or Elite Fitness to learn the traditional way. Most students know Taekwondo for having powerful kicking styles and from the Olympics. That is the Taekwondo they want. At Il Do and Elite Fitness, Grandmaster aims to spread the traditional teachings while also appealing to what students want. He teaches traditional Taekwondo first and foremost then teaches the sports way.
At Elite Fitness, Matthew, a 13-year-old black belt, strives to be a master in the sports way of Taekwondo. His father participated in Taekwondo sports tournaments and Matthew wanted to follow in his footsteps. When he first came to Elite Fitness, he wanted to practice his kicking more than anything else. When he was ten years old, an instructor gave him a challenge. He showed him a standing punching bag and told him that if he could knock it down with one kick, he would be awesome. As he goes into a kicking stance with his right leg high up, he tells me, “I took that as a personal challenge and began practicing with my right leg ever since. Now I can always knock it down. I can’t turn it off.”
One of the most significant aspects of traditional Taekwondo aside from self-defense is self-control. Grandmaster Kang shows me a picture of one student kicking another. Her foot is only an inch away from the other student’s face and he just stands there without shock. “This is technique,” Grandmaster explains. “Stop. Hitting is easy. But stopping is real technique. Stopping shows control.” By learning self-control, students learn how to avoid conflict and resist the temptation of using these skills to start fights. Grandmaster stresses to only use self-defense when there is no other way out.
The top students at Elite Fitness step onto the mat in a class one afternoon and bow to the American and Korean flags on the wall. Quickly, they line up by height into two rows. Instructor Cassandria spreads her arms apart and brings them straight down to her sides. The students follow in unison. With their feet together and arms by their side, they await her command.
Cassandria yells, “Tenets of Taekwondo!”
With deep breaths and a military manner, the students shout, “Ma’am! Courtesy, integrity, perseverance, self-control, indomitable spirit! Ma’am!” They give another bow before starting their stretches.
Every class, no matter what belt color or age group, begins and ends with a bow in order to capture the spirit of traditional Taekwondo. “In sports Taekwondo, students learn that they must fight and win. That is the most important thing. But here,” Grandmaster exclaims, “we don’t start with the techniques to win. First, we teach you how to bow. Respect comes first. This is why ‘Courtesy’ comes first in the five tenants of Taekwondo. If you have a PhD at UCI or if you are the leader of the NBA, I don’t care. You are a student here and you bow.” At Elite Fitness, Master Lois can easily spot a student who lacks this mentality. She signals to me when a new transfer student from a non-Elite school walks straight into her studio without bowing to the flag or any of the instructors.
I shake my head. These students have much to learn.
A Way of Life
The primary mission at Il Do and Elite Fitness isn’t just to teach students how to defend themselves but also to become better individuals. Learning respect as soon as they walk through the studio doors is literally just the first step.
During a class exercise for black belts, every student sits in rows facing the mirror. Master Daniel stands in the corner in his black uniform, chanting in Korean. As he chants, the students and instructors slowly move their arms in circular movements around their bodies. This reminds me of Grandmaster’s demonstration except much slower. Their movement is gentle but with every inflection of the master’s voice, the students clench their fists and punch forward like a quick reflex. Every student stares straight ahead and performs these movements flawlessly. They are all synchronized. The students pay close attention to the voice of the master and to their own bodies. They are all in a state of focus.
Their focus isn’t always so sharp. In a brown belt class at Il Do, one student looks over at the student next to him and the two begin to giggle. Instructor Ramin calls out the two students and punishes the whole class. One classic disciplinary exercise is the line-up drill. Ramin orders them to line up according to their age against the wall. The students must answer out loud with, “Yes sir!” and move quickly to get into formation. If they fail to answer up or align themselves in a sufficient manner, the instructor orders them to sit back down and repeat until their focus is sharp again.
Aside from focus, students must exhibit confidence in everything they do. In the Il Do studio, as Master Daniel leads the green belt class through round house kicks, he exclaims, “I want you all to kiyap as loud as you can!” In unison, the students stand with their left foot forward and their fists up, left fist in front of their face and right fist under their chin. Together, they step forward, lifting their right knee up. They pivot their right leg so their knee faces the left. Finally, their right legs snap out, resulting in a kick. This entire technique happens in a matter of seconds. Although the kicks are high, their kiyap, or shouts, are plain and faint. I could not help but smile as the young students yell a weak, yet cute kiyap.
With a stern face, Master Daniel offers them an ultimatum. “Show me your confidence! If you are quiet and shy, then I think you can’t do it. If you can’t kiyap louder than me then you can give me your belts and I will hang on to them until you earn them back. So everybody: round house kick!” The class bellows a thunderous ‘Hi-yah!” loud enough to upstage Master Daniel.
Shouting has two benefits in Taekwondo. Letting out a yell after every strike helps with breathing. With a great deal of force in a single kick and punch, yelling is an appropriate exhaling trick for Taekwondo. It also serves as an indicator of confidence. Having a voice that is loud shows that you are confident in what you say and do. On the day before the color belt test, Master Lois tells her students, “You have to go into your test believing you can pass. Knowing you can get the next belt. Tell yourself you can get it and mean it.”
One afternoon, I meet Josh, a dark-haired seven-year-old boy with a green belt, and his four-year-old brother Andy with a white belt.
As Josh begins adjusting his brother’s white belt, he looks me straight in the eye and says, “I used to have a white belt but that was three years ago.” After fixing Andy’s belt, Josh jumps into the air and kicks the space to my left. “My new goal is black belt! Ki-yah!” His kiyap rings in my ear.
Every time he returns to Elite Fitness, Josh knows that he is another step closer to that black belt.
Students don’t just show this amount of focus and confidence in the studio. A father who is watching his children practice points at his five-year-old daughter, a blue-eyed, blond girl with pigtails. “The little one is definitely more responsive to me and her mom at home. We never need to repeat ourselves too many times.”
Then he looks over at the punching bags, and points out the blond nine-year-old boy performing a round house kick. “These classes really did a lot for his self-esteem. He had problems with bullies in school and we thought putting him in a Taekwondo class would be good for him. Now he handles bullies better. He doesn’t pick fights with them but he goes to the principal’s office right away. I know these classes gave him the confidence to get help.” As his kids finish their class, the father carries their duffle bags out the door. “As a parent, it makes me more comfortable knowing that they are here. It is good to know they can defend themselves.”
Kimberley D Lakes, Associate Professor of Pediatrics at UCI, did a study on the improvements in a child’s behavior through Taekwondo classes. She conducted an experiment with the masters and instructors of Il Do and Elite Fitness and students from a low-income middle school. Two groups of middle school students were given different physical education classes for a nine-month period. One group participated in typical physical education classes for five days a week. The other group participated in three physical education classes and two Taekwondo classes every week conducted by the masters and instructors themselves. All the students were assessed based on parent ratings and student performance.
As expected, the results of the Taekwondo group were superior. Through written surveys, parents confirmed that their children were behaving well at home. Not only did the children pay better attention, they also stopped talking back to their parents. After the nine-month experiment, the students took questionnaire about their experience. The majority of them enjoyed the challenge of the Taekwondo classes and confirmed that they definitely learned a lot of respect for authority.
The study also gave students a set of computerized executive function tasks, basically computer games that test memory and reaction time. The Taekwondo group proved to have the greater self-control, working memory, and cognitive flexibility than the typical physical education group.
While these students’ behavior can be measured in an experiment, I didn’t need to conduct any tests to know that they were very mature.
As I observed a basic white belt class, I noticed Pauline, a 21-year-old college girl with a white belt, practicing with a 12-year-old black belt. She told me that the young black belt was like a teacher’s assistant for the class.
“I was very surprised,” Pauline remarked. “The instructor just called him over and he started training me. I was impressed by how much he knew at such a young age. He bowed, he didn’t make fun of my mistakes. He demonstrated the stances I needed to know and didn’t move on until I got it. I am very impressed and in awe to see these respectful kids. I am not used to that”
Most people get certain ideas about Taekwondo from films and television but never really know what goes on in the studios themselves. The general public just sees people in martial arts uniforms punching boards, shouting like they have anger issues. Punches and kicks can lead to bruises but can also lead to better living.
The Roots of Taekwondo
The roots of Taekwondo originated centuries ago but it never became an official martial art until the mid-20th century.
Prior to the 10th century, the Korean kingdom of Silla was home to an elite group of young noblemen known as the Hwarang, the Flower Knights. The members of the Hwarang dedicated their lives to specific principles including loyalty to their country, respect for authority, sacrificial devotion, and stability of the mind and body. Mental and emotional control allowed the knights to become skilled warriors. Their martial arts training used a variety of weaponry such as swords, spears, and bows. They also learned the art of Subak, an unarmed form of combat that focused mainly on foot techniques. They later adopted Taekkyeon, a martial art that focused on fluid, dance-like movements of the hands and feet, meant to strike or trip the opponent. The movements were described as gentle and circular, emphasizing flexibility and focus. These principles and styles of combat were the roots of modern day Taekwondo.
In 1910, Japan occupied Korea and outlawed many of their customs. Koreans were no longer allowed to speak Korean or use their Korean family names. The Japanese overlords also forbade the practice of and instruction in all forms of Korean martial arts. Japan introduced other martial arts to the Korean military including karate, judo, and kung fu. In secret, however, the Koreans maintained their language and practiced their martial arts, such as Subak and Taekkyeon, in order to maintain their culture.
In 1945, World War II ended and Korea was liberated from the Japanese. Korean martial arts were revived but disorganized. Five different school systems, or kwans, were established, each teaching different forms of martial arts. Some were more traditional, while others incorporated outside martial arts such as karate.
Meanwhile, General Hong Hi Choi spearheaded the practice of Taekkyeon in the Korean military. In 1954, he established the 29th infantry on Che Ju Island which became the center for Taekkyeon training for the troops.
On April 11, 1955, the Korean government gathered all the kwan masters in order to create a unified system of martial arts. All five kwans united under the title of Tae Soo Do, Way of the Warrior Spirit. As a result, each kwan began teaching the same style which focused on swift, fluid motions of both hands and feet.
Two years later, General Choi recommended the name “Taekwondo” due to its resemblance to Taekkyon in style and name. He wanted to create a sense of continuity and maintain tradition with this name. Taekwondo became the official martial art of Korea and General Choi became known as the father of Taekwondo.
In 1961, the Korean government formed the Korean Taekwondo Association with General Choi as the president. The KTA organized Taekwondo demonstrations and regulated the fighting style in the sports way. On March 22, 1966, General Choi left the KTA to establish the International Taekwondo Federation. Today, the KTA is known as the World Taekwondo Federation and continues to govern the martial art as a sport while the International Taekwondo Federation promotes the traditional practices of Taekwondo on a global scale.
Grandmaster Himself
The core of Il Do and Elite Fitness is Grandmaster Chang Jin Kang himself. He was there at the beginning of Taekwondo. In the mid-1950s, South Korea was a society and economy of overwhelming famine and poverty.
“To thrive in such conditions was as hard as winning a million-dollar lottery today,” he says. His father expected nothing but excellence from him. In 1958, at the age of 14, Kang enrolled into the Song Moo Kwan at the request of his father. In a short time, Taekwondo became more than just a fighting style. “It was a way to guide me through times of hardship with dignity and integrity. While the other kids played and got in trouble after school, I was practicing Taekwondo. The martial art kept me from becoming sidetracked into a life of delinquency.”
As the years passed, Kang grew exceptionally well as a Taekwondo student. In 1963, he won the Taekwondo championships in the Korean National Sports Festival. In 1966, he scored the highest on the National Taekwondo Promotion Test. Afterwards, Kang spent time in the Korean army as the Commanding Officer of the Taekwondo Exhibition Team for the Korean Army in Vietnam. During this time, he trained directly under General Choi. After an honorable discharge from the army in 1971, he settled down with his wife and had his two kids, Daniel and Lois. For some time, Kang participated in Taekwondo Exhibition Tours in 11 European and Middle Eastern nations.
Daniel and Lois, at the ages of five and three, began Taekwondo training in Greece during the exhibition tour. Grandmaster won’t go so far as to say that he forced the practice on his children. They never resisted or complained. They did, however, get bored. They were home-schooled in Taekwondo, and no matter how far their skills progressed, they could not rank up and get a new belt.
As he trained in Taekwondo, his wife trained in kumdo, derived from the Japanese martial art kendo. On his spare time, Kang would practice with his wife using wooden swords and occasionally a real one. Today, he keeps his old katana in the closet of his Il Do office.
Grandmaster is proud to bring up a family of martial artists. With conviction in his voice, he explains, “Martial arts makes you strong internally. When you train, you begin to believe in yourself. I don’t care if you tell me who is a strong person or a weak person. I only care that I have strength. I teach this to my kids so they can be strong. And my wife learned the same with kumdo. We are a strong family that trains together but can rely on ourselves as individuals if we have to.”
In 1978, Kang and his family settled in Santa Ana, California. At this time, Orange County only had one or two martial arts studios. In his time in Santa Ana, the Grandmaster saw poverty in the form of drug users, the homeless, and troublemaking high school students vandalizing property with graffiti. It reminded him of his childhood in poverty-stricken South Korea. In 1980, he opened Il Do Taekwondo in order to teach others what got him through hard times. He also enrolled Daniel and Lois in his school in order to reinvigorate their interest in Taekwondo. He even began offering kumdo classes aside from the Taekwondo classes. Today, the Grandmaster teaches from his new location in Irvine, California with over 50 students per class.
At the age of 71, Grandmaster Kang believes it is still important for him to come in to teach. As he said himself, “True Taekwondo training knows no age.” According to Master Lois, you will never find a Grandmaster who sits in a studio anymore. Anyone who achieves the title of Grandmaster would retire. As Grandmaster reminisces about his friends from the Song Moo Kwan, he smiles. “Some of my friends who became grandmasters retired a few years ago. When you become 60 or at the most 69, it drains your power.” By this age, grandmasters usually retire their uniform and stop practicing. On occasion, they will visit their studio but they no longer teach. Grandmaster Kang, however, is at his studio every day, in uniform, ready to teach. This is what makes Grandmaster Kang one of a kind.
No one has to worry about Grandmaster breaking his back or anything. He is no bodybuilder but he maintains a muscular and lean physique. In order to keep his energy high, Grandmaster Kang spends every week working out. On Monday, Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday, he goes to the gym from 5am to 7pm to lift weights, run on the track, and participate in different recreational sports such as racquetball. Fridays, he walks with his wife on a hiking trail near his home. On Saturday, Wednesday, and Sunday, he and his wife play golf. He doesn’t expect this amount of dedication to working out from his students but he wants them to know the importance of being fit for Taekwondo.
One aspect of Grandmaster Kang that makes his studio unique is the level of discipline he incorporates into his teachings. Surprisingly, not every martial arts studio stresses as much discipline as you would think. On some occasions, Master Lois visited other martial arts studios to find that the instructors hardly teach. She has seen overweight instructors teaching about fitness, she says, her eyes widening. Already she knows that these places have no credibility. When an instructor or master comes to teach, he or she mustn’t teach with the mouth. Telling the students what to do can only get them so far. They must demonstrate with the body.
At the start of every black belt class at Il Do, Instructor Ramin and Master Daniel lead the students through stretches while Grandmaster stretches alone in front of the mirror. He inhales deeply as he brings his legs together. He swings one leg in a circular motion like windmill and repeats with the other. He inhales again with his hands on his sides. Like a flash of lightning, he punches forward, stopping his right fist just inches away from the mirror. His flexibility and speed are where years of continuous training show.
After the students finish their stretches, Grandmaster makes his way to the front of the class. Instead of facing the students, he faces the wall with them.
With a booming voice, he yells, “High block!” He places his left leg forward and right leg back with his left fist up like a halfway uppercut. The students all mirror him. As he moves, he expects all his students to echo his movements rather than just follow his words.
In the past, instructors from other schools have approached Grandmaster Kang, hoping to teach at Il Do or Elite Fitness. These hopeful instructors come in listing the names of different moves and describing how to do them in detail. However, they don’t get the job from simply reciting what they know. The job interview is a one-on-one training session. He tests their limits to see the extent of their abilities. Most of the time, they fail. For Grandmaster, Taekwondo hardens the mind and body. Those who stop working out show a lack of discipline and commitment to the martial art. If an instructor relies on his knowledge and mouth to teach his students, then Grandmaster will not take them. As Master Lois says, “Grandmaster continues to do what he teaches. He teaches with his life.”
Like his father before him, Grandmaster Kang expects nothing but the absolute best from his children. Master Daniel and Master Lois had to earn their rank as masters at Il Do and Elite Fitness. “I don’t want to give them special treatment,” he says. “They are the grandmaster’s kids. I don’t want them to think that I will treat them lightly. If I do that, they will not try. They will not have the full attitude of a Taekwondo student. So I treat them the same. I give this benefit to them.” To Grandmaster, he will see his own blood as just another student in the studio. Every year, they continue to test in front of Grandmaster to see if they are still worthy of being masters. They must display physical fitness and set an example of leadership towards students. If they were to fail, then Grandmaster would demote them without a thought.
At Il Do, Master Lois’ youngest daughter prepares for the color belt test. As a white belt moving on to orange, she must be able to shift from a punching stance to a left guarding stance. However, whenever she turns to the left, she loses balance which ruins her whole form. With the test coming up, Grandmaster goes up to her and tells her, “Don’t test.”
My Chance at the Elite
Il Do and Elite Fitness offers a two-week trial where anyone can join a basic white belt class. As a temporary student, I wear a white uniform with no belt. Being the only student with no belt makes me feel like an outsider. Being the only college student in a basic white belt class with children no older than seven doesn’t help either.
On my first day at Elite Fitness, it became clear immediately that I was clueless. After stepping on the training mat, I bow forward. One student. Tu, a six-year-old white belt, taps me on the arm. He points towards the American flag on the wall and says, “You bow towards there.” I face the flag, bow, and hide my red face. When Grandmaster said the first thing we learn is how to bow, he really meant it.
We begin with the five tenets of Taekwondo. Instructor Hyung, a tall, slender Korean man with moderately long, black hair, leads us through the stretches. As he demonstrates neck rotations, he screams with a military voice, “Hana, dull, set, net, dasot, yasot, ilgop, yodol!” The others proceed with neck rotations and repeat his chant. I mumble, trying to match their rhythm. It took me awhile to realize that they were counting to eight in Korean.
Afterwards, we all sit and spread our legs as wide as we can. The girl next to me performs a perfect split and touches her left toes flawlessly with the fingers of both hands. Meanwhile, I try my very best to spread my legs to form a 90 degree angle. As I try to reach for my left toes, my legs begin to tremble and my face turns red with frustration. Sweat begins to trickle down my face. I point my face down to hide the sweat.
“You’re already sweating?” Hyung asks with surprise.
“How did he notice?” I think to myself.
Next, Hyung places us in lines according to our age. In this drill, we shuffle our feet through the mat, left leg in front of the other while continuously punching with our left fist. We switch to our right legs and fists and repeat the process. Being in the action is very different from watching from the waiting area. These drills and exercises look very easy when I watch other people do them. Ten minutes into the class, however, my uniform is drenched in sweat and my chest is throbbing. After the drills, Hyung and Cassandria divide the class by age: the youngest go with Cassandria, and the oldest with Hyung.
As I walk towards the mirror to watch Hyung demonstrate basic forms for white belts, my vision becomes blurry. All I hear are my own gasps for air. With each step I take, droplets of sweat fall to the mat. At the mirror, I slouch with my head down and put my hands on my knees. Hyung takes my shoulder and guides me to the restroom, assuming that I needed to throw up. As soon as I close the door, I fall to the ground, gasping. Obviously, learning martial arts requires you to be healthy and in shape; I didn’t need Grandmaster to remind me the importance of being fit for Taekwondo. But as I sit on the bathroom floor, I realize exactly how out of shape I am. At this point, I know that I had failed the perseverance aspect of the five tenets. After the thumping in my chest calms down, I grab the bathroom sink to lift myself up and make my way back to the mat to practice stances and punches.
The next time I take a class, I walk in and bow towards the flag. Determined to keep my strength up, this time I pace myself during the laps around the studio. Once again, Hyung places everyone in lines according to age. In my line, I meet Matthew, the 13-year-old black belt with the epic right kick. Because the black belt class comes directly after the white belt class, Matthew decided to warm up with the white belts.
For this drill, everyone in line needs to shuffle towards the free standing punching bag and kick it as hard as they can. Matthew shuffles with his left leg forward and brings his right knee high up. When his right leg snaps out, the ball of his foot forces the punching bag back and onto the floor. All the other students and the spectating parents stare in awe. When it is my turn, I try to be like Matthew, hoping to knock it down and impress everyone. When the ball of my foot makes contact with the punching bag, my body lunges forward and the punching bag bashes my head. I grab my head and look up to find Hyung laughing.
Matthew, with his hand covering a huge grin, tells me, “good try.”
My third day of class begins with a pleasant surprise. As I step onto the mat, Master Lois approaches me with a folded white belt in hand. My eyes widen with exhilaration. After two classes of sweat and sore muscles, I finally have a white belt. As I try to grab the belt with my hand, Master Lois pulls it back.
“No,” She says with a stern face. “Both hands.”
I grasp the belt with both hands as she does. We both bow and I become an official white belt student.
I tie my belt with a standard over-and-under knot. Then, Hyung pulls me aside from the rest of the class to give me a private lesson on how to tie a color belt. I cringe my eyebrows at the thought of a belt-tying lesson. As he slowly wraps the belt around his waist and begins to loop the ends of the belt together, my eyes are wide.
“Did you get it?” Hyung asks.
I stare at his belt, astonished. I wonder how this perfect knot came to be and ask, “What do I do?”
The tying of the belt is actually symbolic. The ends of the belt, or tails as Hyung calls them, represent physical and mental discipline. When the two tails interlock, it reminds us that we need both to truly master Taekwondo. The knot itself is very complicated and looks like a thick sideways necktie. A perfect belt doesn’t just depend on the knot but the tails. When comparing them, the tails should be the same length to symbolize the balance of physical and mental discipline. Of course, on my first try, one end is much shorter. I like to think that end is my physical discipline. After three tries, the two tails finally match.
Again, Hyung separates us into age groups and we line up. Hyung straps a padded, racket-shaped target to his arm and holds it high. Each student takes turns performing a high kick to hit the target. A simple task that I know I could do. The student before me does a perfect kick. He shuffles towards Hyung, brings his right knee high, snaps his right foot out, and smacks the target directly. I do none of this. After shuffling towards Hyung, instead of bringing my right knee up, I swing my entire right leg up, throwing myself off balance. Gravity takes control and I fall to the ground. Suddenly, I know how Charlie Brown felt every time he missed the football.
I meet with Grandmaster Kang to tell him about my progress in the Taekwondo classes. I assure him that I will never become a decent Taekwondo student.
He smiles benevolently.
“Take your time,” he says. “Be patient. We cannot build a building in one day. It is the same thing. You keep on going. Anything you learn, remember to stay with it. This is most important.”
On the night of the color belt test at Il Do, a seven-year-old brunette with her blue belt goes into her fighting stance. Instructor Ramin holds the wooden board in front of her. She lifts her right knee high and her right foot snaps out. The ball of her foot smacks the board without breaking. From his office, Grandmaster Kang walks towards the mat and observes. The student steps back to prepare another kick. The ball of her right foot strikes Ramin’s fingers and the board is unharmed. The spectating parents laugh and I snicker at the classic slapstick comedy.
But Grandmaster is unfazed. His stern face does not blink or look away from the action. On her third attempt, the girl takes a deep breath. Ramin reminds her to keep her eye on the board and kiyap as loud as she can. She lifts her right knee up and her foot snaps out for the final time. A screeching “Ah-yah!” echoes. The board breaks into two pieces with a snap, and everyone cheers. She bows in front of Ramin who hands her the broken board for her to keep. It serves as a reminder of your progress through Taekwondo with the discipline, respect, and confidence that you learn. As she takes the two pieces of her broken board with her to show her father, Grandmaster nods his head and turns around to go back to his desk.
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