Earlier this month—four years after our youngest son began Taekwondo—he finally earned his black belt. It is something truly admirable and something I’m proud of, yet I can never forget what happened the very first time we visited the dojang to see if Taekwondo might be right for him.
When we first walked in, I saw older students—some looking nearly thirty—and tiny children barely five or six years old, all shouting Korean commands together and copying every movement of the instructor. It was fascinating to watch. But my son? The moment he saw the instructor’s powerful movements, he froze in fear, declared, “I will NEVER learn Taekwondo!” and bolted out the door. He stood on the sidewalk, fuming, even crying. I was stunned by his timid reaction. Tsk, tsk… I always called him “General” because he seemed so bold… and this is how the General behaves? On the drive home, I looked back at him still sniffling in the back seat and made up my mind: “This child needs Taekwondo more than anyone.”
A year later, we knocked on the dojang door again. I soothed his anxious face, then bravely handed my credit card to the instructor right in front of him. Showing him the receipt, I warned, “Don’t ever forget how much determination this represents.”
From then on, he tiptoed through each basic movement as if walking on ice, slowly gaining confidence. With every new belt color he earned, he began to enjoy the training more and more. Eventually—after paying no small amount in testing fees—he passed the black belt exam.
That day, as he held his certificate with pride, I was busy calculating the credit card debt in my head. But he stood tall and asked, “So what’s my black belt promotion gift? How much are you going to spend?” “…What? What do you want?” I asked, my voice deflating like a balloon. He pressed on, dissatisfied with my weak tone: “When are we having the celebration party? How should we plan it?” It was getting worse by the minute.
Did he earn this black belt all by himself? Didn’t Dad use money we didn’t have on the credit card? Didn’t Mom drive him back and forth day and night, wash his uniform, cheer for him at every test, comfort him when he cried, and bring him all the way to this moment? I couldn’t bring myself to say all that to my clueless child, but the thought of swiping the card again made my heart sink.
As 1998 comes to an end, I confess—I’m actually a little jealous of my youngest son who earned his first-degree black belt.
— Yoon Wan‑Hee, December 6, 1998














You must be logged in to post a comment.