Chapter 27

23 Oct

Shotokan Karate Part 3: Promotion time

The days slowly (and painfully) pass by. I go to each class, practice the kata, maybe do a few techniques, then go home. There’s no sparring, no partner drills, no application of anything. To make things worse, I’m the oldest person under 40, so it’s a very boring class. The hottest chick in there is an AARP card carrying japanese woman, and the 2nd hottest chick is 12 years old (she wins by default, there aren’t any other women there). As for people who I could spar with…the closest thing is a morbidly obese 13 year old boy, or a morbidly obese 12 year old boy. My options are unlimited.

After about two months, the first test hits us. The test for yellowbelt; sensei get’s us prepared by handing us testing sheets. He tells us to know everything on the sheet for the test; I remember back to my Kuk Sool Won days and felt a little disappointed. I thought tests were supposed to be surprising in what you were tested over; I guess I was wrong.

He tells us to line up, and I smile at my little brother. Unlike myself, he is completely freaked out about not making the test. Sensei immediately yells a kiah of disapproval.

“No smilling in my dojo! I hate smilling in my dojo, it meand yuh are not serrus! It meand yuh are weak! No smilling!”

Rage boils within me.

He lets us study the sheets before the test and practice some.

My brother and I study the sheet, and get ready. The test is the sheet and only the sheet. At the end of stand alone techniques (blocks and kicks), we get graded on forms. It goes downward in belt rank, so the black belts go first. I don’t know what they’re being tested on, but they’re testing for something.

First up is 12 year old black belt girl. She does some kind of…questionable form, where I don’t exactly see what the point of it is (Jyon, or Jion, however the hell it’s spelled). It involves lots of hopping about, making almost snake style kung fu hand strikes, going up on one leg, and more retardedness. On top of the pure sillyness, her technique is unimpressive. She punches, but she doesn’t punch hard. Just kind of like she’s going through the motion; her punches don’t look like they could hurt a hemopheliac baby that had just suffered from falling off of its motorcycle. In fact, all of her strikes just look like she’s regularly moving through some molasses.

Next up is bowl cut. Sensei nods to us and says “He hazh gud techinickie”.

His form at least defines the punches, but it looks like no one is punching as if they were trying to punch someone. Another unimpressive performance.

One by one, everyone in the known universe performs until it’s my brother’s and I turn. We rock the hell out of that joint; we punch to kill, we block to stop, we kick to abort children. Sensei lines us all up, and asks some of the random people in the audience (i.e., parents) to judge who they thought did the best.

Some of the parents start to point to me, when sensei says, “I tot she did the best.” and points at the 12 year old. All the parents reluctantly agree. She steps out of the line.

What the hell? If anything, she did the worst. Normally I’d fly into a furious rage, but I feel unattached. I want to just get the year over with, and I don’t really care.

Sensei asks the parents who did second best. The parents actually point at me this time, but then sensei says “I tot he did the best.” and points at his other black belt. He steps out of the line.

God damn it, this is bull crap. I’m better than all the bastards in here, probably including sensei, at their own game. I know for a fact I could beat up sensei, and as for children, I could probably fight all the kids at once. I had heard the tireless mantra of “Not all good fighters are good teacher, and not all good teachers are good fighters”, but that would not save sensei. Even factoring that into things, I wasn’t satisfied. I wanted sparring. I wanted my retribution for this kata bullshit.

The more and more I went to this school, the more I wanted to beat the crap out of everyone in it. Why are 7 year olds correcting my punching form, when they have their thumb pointing straight out and their wrist bent backwards, AND SENSEI AGREES?!

The true boiling point comes when the “correction” part of the test comes. This is when the black belts and sensei give you tips on your forms. Sensei tells me that I need more hip action in his garbled english. The 12 year old girl tells me I need more power. More power?! I nearly lose it at this point. For her, the Queen of silly putty arms, to tell me to punch harder, it just snaps something in my brain. Bowl cut says something, but I’m not paying attention. This school is stupid. Everything is stupid. I’m stuck here for a year. I’ll show them during sparring. I’ll bide my time, take their bullshit advice, and then I’ll molest them.

How sweet it will be.

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