Skye Maxwell stood alone in the center of the classroom feeling lower
than the lowest. And she was, literally speaking.
In spite of her ice princess demeanor, on the inside she was raving mad
her grandmother Violet for making her try the karate school membership she had
given her as a twelfth birthday gift. Geez, she just started junior high school
the month before. Now more stress. So there she was, looking around, feeling
like an alien from Mars.
There
really wasn’t much to look at. The classroom was simple and stark: three plain
walls, one mirrored wall, a high ceiling, and a thinly carpeted floor. The only
attempt at decorating appeared to be the rainbow colored karate belts that were
tied just so and hung side by side on the walls. She knew that each color
represented a different rank, ranging from white belt through black belt, from
beginner to expert.
Skye
gazed at herself in the mirror and hardly recognize the girl looking back at
her. That girl was dressed in an over-sized, unbelted white karate suit with
bare feet and shaking knees. Her normally glam long blonde hair was hastily
pulled into a sloppy ponytail. No make-up, no jewelry, not even a smear of
lip-gloss.
She
decided that if one of the goals of karate training was to tear you down to
nothing so they could build you up to something great, they had succeeded,
judging by how she looked and felt at the moment. And she hadn’t even taken
her first class!
For
the past four years the girl looking back at her in the mirror had been a ballet
student, confident, poised, and graceful. She had been told when she was eight
years old that she had an ideal
ballet dancer’s body: long arms and legs, a long neck, nicely arched feet, and
a comparatively short torso. And the perfect ballerina’s face: a sweet look
with wide eyes and full lips. Plus she was flexible, slim, and strong.
So
where was the ballerina now? Apparently she was hidden beneath two pieces of
shapeless white cotton that was charmingly referred to as a karate uniform. Even
the word “uniform” repelled her. She didn’t want to be and look the same
as everyone else. What’s wrong with wanting to be unique?
“Hello,
Skye Maxwell,” a big male voice interrupted her narcissist mirror gazing.
Skye
jumped, clearly startled.
He
stopped before her and bowed to her.
“Welcome
to Spirit Rock Martial Arts Institute.”
Skye
smiled stiffly and said, “Hi."
“Has
anyone ever told you that you look a lot like that young actress, Dakota
Fanning?”
“No,”
she lied, entirely sick of people telling her that.
“I’m
your martial arts teacher,” he said with a broad smile. “My name is Jacob
Antonius, but you can call me Mr. Jake. Everyone does; even my grandson. Or you
can call me Mr. Right because I’m always right.”
He
chuckled at his little stab at humor, but Skye didn’t. She was too far out of
her element to do anything more than stand there motionless and stare up at this
big, bald, brawny man.
Mr.
Jacob Antonius was dressed in a black karate uniform tied with a well-worn black
belt with four yellow stripes on one end. The school’s brochure mentioned that
Mr. Jake was a fourth degree black belt; hence the four yellow stripes, Skye
assumed. He reminded her of the actor/wrestler “The Rock” only with lighter
skin. This guy even had that weird eyebrow thing going on and a smile
practically as wide as his face. Mr. Jake was one of those ageless men. Only the
deep laugh wrinkles around his eyes and the gray in his goatee hinted that he
was probably pushing sixty.
Leaning
in towards Skye, he asked in a playfully sinister voice, “Are you scared of
me, young lady?”
“Yes,
I am,” she admitted without hesitation, purposefully avoiding his intense blue
eyes. Some people’s eyes are very hard to look into for some unexplainable
reason—like his. Mr. Jake’s eyes were like two clear portals into a shadowy
abyss. The image of a monster leaping out of his pupils and strangling her
zipped across her mind. Instead of peering into those scary depths, she let her
gaze wonder across the elaborate tattoos on his forearms.
The
colorful images inked there spoke volumes about this strange man. There was a
fire-breathing dragon, a smiling skull, Homer Simpson on a Harley, and a
sword-wielding angel with long curling hair, to name a few. Plus there were
words tattooed on the front of his hands, too. The right hand read “Be
Brave” and the left had read “Be Strong.”
“Excellent,
I’m glad that you’re scared. I want you to always be a little scared. I
don’t want you to ever get too comfortable with those that outrank you. And at
this point, everyone outranks you.”
“I
know. I might as well be a dumb bug on the floor.”
He
laughed.
“I
like students with a sense of humor. It doesn’t hurt as much if you can crack
a few jokes.”
“I
didn’t come here to get hurt!” Skye injected self-defensively.
“Why are you here?"
“Because
my grandmother made me.”
“Smart lady.”
“She
may be smart, but she’s also very, very bossy.”
Mr.
Jake laughed again.
“I
really am starting to like you, Skye! And I predict you’re going to love the
martial arts someday.” Skye rolled her emerald eyes, seriously doubting this
man’s judgment. He continued, choosing to ignore the green eye rolling
incident…this time.
“The
martial arts are very special,” he began, clasping his hands before him as he
spoke. “But before I show you any punches, blocks, or kicks, I want to tell
you a little about this sport and art form.
The first thing you need to know is that you can use karate only in the karate
studio and not on other people…unless, of course, you absolutely need to
defend yourself or another person.”
“Can
I sit down while you talk?” Skye asked, her legs already getting a bit tired
from standing in place.
“No,
you can’t sit down!” he shot back. “Standing still and listening is
something we do a lot of here.”
Skye
sighed, feigning fatigue, and forcing her shoulders to slump.
Mr.
Jake continued, paying no attention to her little drama…this time.
“There
are many different styles of martial arts,” he began as if reciting a favorite
poem from heart. “The style we teach here at Spirit Rock is American Taekwondo.
Some people call it ‘karate’ which is technically inaccurate, but
acceptable. Taekwondo is believed to be one of the oldest Oriental arts of
unarmed self-defense—unarmed meaning no weapons like guns, knives, etcetera.
It originated in Korea a long, long time ago and became an official Olympic
sport in 2000.”
“I
watched the Olympics,” Skye piped in, excited to contribute her own two cents
to his monolog. “I really liked watching the girl’s gymnastics.”
“That’s
nice,” Mr. Jake said in a patronizing tone, which Skye easily detected. You
might was well just pat me on the head and call me a brainless twit, she
thought.
He
continued his special poem like an actor auditioning for a role.
“Martial
art students are taught to defend his or herself, but this type of training also
promotes strong bodies, strong minds, strong wills, and self-confidence.”
“But
I already have a strong body, mind, and will. Plus my dad says I have enough
self-confidence to be a movie star. So maybe I really don’t need to be
here.”
“You’ve
got to be kidding me!” he barked, not hiding his annoyance one bit. Skye took
a step back and cringed. He looked like he was about to snap.
Beware!
Big, angry teacher! her mind shouted but her mouth stayed shut…for once.
“Do
you know that around the world, at least one in every three women has been
beaten, forced into sex, or otherwise abused during her lifetime?” The long,
heated question flew out of his mouth, fueled by hefty emotion. “Could you
defend yourself if you were attacked?”
Before
Skye was able to respond, Mr. Jake wrapped an arm around her waist and
effortlessly picked her off her feet and ran with her towards the closed
classroom door.
“Gotcha!”
he said smugly, carrying her around the room tucked under his arm as if she were
nothing more than a big old bag of dog food. “Gotcha! Gotcha!”
“Let me down! Don’t be a hater! That was
a dirty trick!” she protested as she tried to twist and turn out of his tight
grip. “You could’ve warned me!”
He
returned her to her place and asked her, “Do you think bad guys use clean
tricks on their victims? Do you think they give them fair warning?”
“I
suppose not,” she had to admit, adjusting her messed-up uniform and trying to
compose herself. “I suppose I could use a few lessons in self-defense.”
“Yes
you could, and you would also benefit from the other things that the
martial arts teach people.”
“What
other things?” Skye asked; her curiosity sparked just a little.
“Things
like honor and respect. You will learn to honor and respect those who are more
experienced and knowledgeable than you. In some martial arts traditions, a
student wouldn’t even be permitted to enter a room before someone of higher
rank.”
“And
I thought ballet was strict!” Skye exclaimed.
“Karate
and ballet are a lot alike, actually. Both art forms demand grace, power,
determination, and discipline. Any questions?”
“Where’s
the rest of the class?”
“It’s
just you and me, little ballerina, during the first introductory class. After
that, if you think karate is for you, you’ll join a class with other students
of your same rank.”
“Cool,
I guess.”
“Let’s get started. First I want to show you a basic fighting stance,
a couple of blocks, punches, and kicks, plus how to bow and yell. If you show me
you can handle that, I’ll let you peek inside the black belt class in the next
studio. They’re practicing their karate forms which are also called martial
ballets.”
“Martial ballets?” Skye asked, the idea instantly capturing her
imagination. “Do they actually dance?”
“They
perform war dances. Martial ballets are actually choreographed battles with an
invisible enemy. Every student does the same moves at the time, so it looks like
a choreographed dance.”
“Sounds
wicked! Is there music, too?”
“Just
the music of their passionate hearts pumping blood in unison,” Mr. replied
with a faraway look in his eyes. Skye was impressed and a little taken aback
with Mr. Jake’s poetic remark. Strange, strange man, her mind
commented. “So let’s get this show on the road.”
With
that, the teacher and the student worked together in synch to accomplish the
goals set down for a brand new karate student. Mr. Jake taught Skye how to do a
front kick, a thrust kick against a thick red rectangular pad that he held
against his chest, a jump front kick, a tricky sidekick, a high block, and a
basic punch.
It
all went very, very well. When they were finished Mr. Jake complimented her
profusely, then walked across the floor and quietly opened the door to the
adjoining studio and stepped inside.
Skye
beamed with self-satisfaction as she waited and once again gazed at herself in
the mirror. Once more, she hardly recognized the girl looking back at her. This
girl was sweaty, disheveled, and breathless…and she felt great. She felt
mighty. She felt invincible. And she already knew she liked karate.
A
few minutes later, Mr. Jake returned to Skye and said, “We can go in, but
you’re not permitted to speak or to distract the class whatsoever. Can you
handle that? Can you be silent for five full minutes?” A smile was quivering
at the corner of his mouth so she knew he was teasing her.
“I
can handle it.”
Skye
followed Mr. Jake into the classroom like a duckling following its mother. The
heat and energy in the room hit her in the face and the room reeked of Icy Hot.
She tried not to show how impressed she was by the sight of the ten black belts
standing at attention in a straight line at the front of the room. Their
expressions were stern and focused. They were all sizes and ages, male and
female. The only common denominator appeared to be the color of their belts.
Skye quietly wondered if this is what real life ninjas looked like.
As
nonchalantly as she could manage, Skye sat on the floor at the back of the
classroom next to Mr. Jake and waited for something to happen. And happen it did
A
teenage boy, apparently the instructor, yelled out something in Korean and the
stoic ten quickly formed a circle. The instructor yelled once more and the ten
grabbed hands and proceeded to move in a circle while they sang the nursery
rhyme: “Ring around a rosie, a pocket full of posie. Ashes, ashes, we all fall
down!” And fall they did – in a rowdy, laughing heap of humans.
Mr.
Jake tossed his head back and roared with laughter while Skye looked on,
wide-eyed and entirely baffled.
When
the instructor disentangled him self from the mass of bodies on the floor, he
rushed over to Mr. Jake and bowed. He was sweaty and full of mischief and very
cute, Skye instantly decided. His hair was sort of long, dark, and messy, his
dimples were deep, and his smile was absolutely charming. To Skye, he looked
like a TV star or maybe a singer in a boy band.
“Very
funny!” Mr. Jake said to his grandson.
“The
black belts were getting crabby training for the state karate tournament. I
thought they could use a little comic relief.”
“That
was comical!” Mr. Jake exclaimed, then turned to Skye and said, “I’ll be
right back. I need to get something.”
“Can
I go now?” she asked her teacher.
“Not
yet. Just give me a minute. I have something for you.”
“Oh.”
He
turned to his grandson and said, “Rain, this is Skye. Please keep an eye on
her for me.”
Rain
turned his attention from his grandfather to the new blonde student sitting
cross-legged on the floor, looking immensely uncomfortable. Or was it bored?
“Hi
Skye, I’m Rain. I see you’ve met my big, Greek grandfather.”
“Yes,”
she said impassively, trying to appear to be unimpressed with this adorable guy.
He was built just like Mr. Jake—strong and sturdy.
He
chuckled when he added, “So you’re Skye and I’m Rain. That’s a really
weird coincidence, don’t you think?”
“No.”
“Tough
audience,” he replied with a pretend frown on his face. “So did you like our
performance?”
“Hel-lo.
I was hoping to see a martial ballet, not some silly nursery rhyme.”
“Silly?
Come on! Did you know that nursery rhyme is actually about the Black Plaque that
killed over fourteen million people in the fourteenth century?”
“I
suppose you learn that on Jeopardy.”
“Are
you making fun of me?” Rain asked her directly.
Skye
got to her feet, looked him in the face, and said, “Whatever.” She was about
to leave the classroom when Mr. Jake rushed in with a brand new white belt in
his hand.
He
moved to the head of the class and said something weird that made all the
students, including Rain, rush to their places in line and stand at attention
with their feet apart and their hands clasped behind their backs.
“Come
here, Skye.”
She
did what she was told without protest. All eyes were on her and she felt
extremely self-conscious. She stood before Mr. Jake at the head of the class as
he ceremoniously unfolded the belt, then wound and knotted it around Skye’s
tiny waist.
“The
color white symbolizes purity and every student begins with a clean, pure slate.
Congratulations, Skye. You’ve been promoted to white belt!” he announced
proudly. All the students clapped and cheered for her and she could feel her
cheeks redden with embarrassment.
“Thanks,”
she said as she shook Mr. Jake’s extended hand.
Rain
turned to the student beside him and whispered, “I think I’m in love!”
Just as Skye was about to walk
out the classroom door, Rain touched her arm, stopping her, and said,
“Congrats.” Then as if by magic, he produced a red Tootsie Pop and presented
it to her. She took it and gave him a little smile, mildly impressed with his
sleight of hand trick.
“Dude,
next time make it a chocolate one,” she added as she stepped out of the
classroom and back into the real world; a world she totally understood.