"Well, you've studied Taekwondo before, and you're a regular in class. With a bit of work, you shouldn't have any problems."
Then, with typical Chinese bluntness, he addressed Zhang Dan and Du Ting who were poised to ask the same question.
"You two... not so much!"
I practised hard for the next few days, but suddenly, impossibly soon, it was time. First order of the day was saluting the twin South Korean and Chinese flags hanging at the back of the hall, and singing the Chinese national anthem，义勇军进行曲 or "March of the Volunteers" (sample lyrics: "Risking the enemy's cannon fire, advance! Advance! Advance!"). As I know the words for this even less than I do for "God Save the Queen" I just tried to stand still and look solemn, despite the jaunty tune. You can listen to it here.
After that was a warm-up, somewhat limited by there being at least fifty students at the grading. We ran around the 道场 in a frustratingly tight circle, hopping and jumping according to the 教练's commands.
Next on the itinerary was a performance. Five or six boys from the junior class went through a series of kicks on the kick pads before graduating to kicking balloons. This culminated in one of the most senior kids performing an impressive flying kick over four crouching adults.
Then it was time for the senior class. Balloons were popped once again, but this time routines were longer and trickier.The penultimate performance was from our 教练. He attempted, and narrowly failed, to kick his way through four boards with one jump, then flashed an impressive 360 at what must have been seven feet, landing on his kicking leg. Awesome stuff from a quite short guy, but I wouldn't want a 教练 that couldn't beat me up!
I've blogged about the phenomenon of Little Emperors before, but for some reason I always subconsciously assumed that anyone at a halfway serious 道馆 like ours would be exempt. Not so. Every time the 教练 kiyup'ed, a chorus of giggles would erupt from the seated juniors. A round of shushing would then erupt, followed by a murmur of retaliatory accusations.
"It was him!"
"He was laughing more!"
Worse, the juniors munched away on their crisps and slurped away on bottles of yoghurt and soft drinks throughout. When they were called up for their gradings, they left behind them a carpet of crisp fragments and flecks of spilt yoghurt. This behaviour was encouraged by pushy parents who continually stepped up onto the mat, clutching armfuls of refreshments, and noisily inquired as to their well-being. As if they couldn't go an hour without snacks!
The final act was some board-breaking from the big boss, the 馆长. While I sensed that the 教练 was more than happy to show off his skills to a captive audience, the 馆长 - a young, lean, unsmiling man - looked bored and bitter, as if he was mortified we had the audacity to trouble him.
The 馆长 ordered two students to hold up a substantial wooden board, then had another two brace the first. Then, quite matter-of-factly, he lined up a finger strike and smacked his way through, with fingertips alone. Powerful stuff, and terrifying to think that that could go through your throat!
After the excitement of the performance, the grading itself was nothing particularly special. Six of us each found our designated spots in the 道场 and punched and kicked our way through the basic patterns and kicks for the yellow belt curriculum. Then, a few minutes later, a similar, slightly harder set of routines for the green belt curriculum.There's a saying in Chinese: 男女有别, or "boys and girls aren't the same". As far as I'm aware, it's mostly used to explain away the differences between the sexes, but it's also something of a refreshingly blunt alternative to Western liberal norms.
Regardless of the intent, the boys were given twenty push-ups to do, while the girls were allowed to get away with twenty sit-ups. Oddly enough, there were no concessions at all to age. Even the smallest junior had to do the same.
An update in a few days on how I got on...
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