Literacy Narrative

Natasya Hartle
King Tiger Tae Kwon Do: where life champions are trained. Now, this isnt the current
slogan you would see today, but I remember when this sentence was standing strong against the
front window of the dojang. Being six at the time, I didnt truly understand the meaning, in its
entirety, of this statement, but I loved it. When starting Tae Kwon Do, I think my goal was to
become a blackbelt (I dont remember but this is what my mom tell me). But even if I cant
remember the exact reason for starting, I wouldnt have wanted things to have turned out any
differently.
I cant remember the events leading up to my intro class, except for the fact that it was my sixth
birthday present. I dont remember the anticipation or the nerves; all I can seem to remember is
the goofy face of the instructor, a man whom is one of my good friends today, Master Shin. I
remember the feel of the slick blue and red mats beneath my bare feet. The wall of mirrors that
seemed to go on for miles and reflected light into every corner of the room. All in all, the 15
minute intro to Tae Kwon Do had left me a giggling mess and I think it was then that I fell in
love.
Starting off, I was pretty gungho about it all. Five days a week in afterschool and six days in
lessons was enough to quench my thirst for this new sport. Now, looking back, I find it weird
how vividly I can remember the beginning years. If I close my eyes, I can still see the original
layout of the school: the bright colored mats fading into a dark carpet with cubbies for bags and
shoes, white, round tables for the students to do homework, and the plump, blue beanbag that sat,
never unattended, in the corner by the small bookcase. I can also see the faces of kids that

became my friends during the first few days and who were in front of me during class. It is so,
unbelievably surreal to me to be able to remember what it felt like to stand at the back of the
class during lessons. It changes your perspective completely after years of being front-line
material, to reminisce in the days in which I was a white belt in the back of the room.
If I thought I was excited to start training, I almost busted a capillary when competition season
started. About 4 months after starting Tae Kwon Do, I entered my first poomsae and sparring
competition as a yellow belt. The hours of practicing my form and sparring techniques were
tough, but they sure were worth it. Everyday walking through the foyer in my house I can see a
picture collage of me, decked out in sparring gear that was a little too big for my tiny body,
standing on the top shelf of a podium with the biggest grin on my face, two front teeth missing
and all. The trophies for my first few competitions were taller than I was, and for obvious
reasons, I dug it. I still have every medal, trophy, and certificate from every competition Ive
ever competed in, along with my parents, displayed either in our trophy room or at our school.
When I got a little older, around 8, competitions became a bit harder. Martial arts is a male
dominated sport and I had always competed against boys my age and rank. By this age, however,
boys started to get bigger and tougher than me. This was one of the many obstacles Ive faced
throughout my career. I was always so small growing up. Usually, I was the youngest and
shortest in my class; I was just so tiny compared to my counterparts that it was everything but an
advantage for someone my age. As I got older, however, I was still small and skinny but I was
able to learn and develop techniques in order to make my size an advantage. I can still hear the
voice of my coach, yelling from his chair, over the huge crowd of screaming families, telling me
to not be afraid and to get closer. And with this, my flexibility came into play when I side
stepped an oncoming roundhouse kick from my opponent, his foot barely skimming the blue

circle on my chest protector, and delivered a solid turning hook kick to his helmet. Almost
instantaneously, the buzzer echoed around the arena, signaling the end of our match, and the
crowd let out a deafening roar. I had won. It had taken me longer than usual to come down from
the high that that particular sparring round had induced. By far, that victory had been the
sweetest.
Fast forward a year and I was ready to start my black belt cycle. Commence mood lighting,
lightning strikes, and creepy piano chords. The black belt cycle at King Tiger is notorious for
separating the boys from the men. It is the difference between buying a black belt and earning
one. Long story short, if my parents were not doing the cycle alongside me, there is no way I
would have become what I am today. Throughout the ten weeks, I must complete multiple
exercises including 10,000 pushups, 10,000 sit-ups, 105 miles of running; and this is not even
scratching the surface. Along with the physical requirements, there are also about ten essays that
I must write, as well as an overnight test that starts at 9 oclock at night and can run to anywhere
from 4 in the morning to 8. I think the one thing I remember most from my first black belt
overnight testing, was the falling portion. The reason why I remember this so well is because it
was my first time going all out for falls and it left me soar for days. Falls are not very fun and
falls from full standing positions can end any party. During the falls, Master Harris called for
everyones attention and had them look at me. Apparently, I was small enough to throw along his
back to demonstrate a correct spin fall and this concluded into one of the most terrifying
moments in my existence. Hitting the unforgiving, worn out mats shoulder first after rolling
sideways off of a grown mans back will be forever etched into my brain and although I hated the
moment while it was happening, I have to admit that it made me stronger in more ways than one.
The last thing I can remember from my first testing was during the afternoon portion. During this

time, all of the testers are in a gymnasium, this particular one had a creepy, animated sun in the
center, performing for all of the family and friends who came to show their support. Testing
always ends with the breaking of our boards and bricks. The brick is used to symbolize an
obstacle, not only a physical one but a mental one as well. Point blank, everyone is strong
enough to break a brick. Whats so difficult about the breaking of the brick is that in order for
one to fully commit, he or she must overcome the mental block that comes from not believing in
yourself. I remember staring down at the brick, set up on cinder blocks, mocking me. I kept
repeating in my mind youre never going to do this. Youre too weak. Youre not strong
enough. Every attempt I took the voices in my head grew louder and louder until they sounded
deafening in my ears. One thing that bothers me the most about this memory is that I cannot
recall what made me stop the voices. All I know is that on my final attempt, my heel came down
upon the five-scalloped brick with such a force that I was surprised with myself and how I
managed to muster up the strength to push through the obstacle. I watched the brick crumble to
the ground in a thousand pieces and for the first time in a long time, I felt a weight lift off my
shoulders and melt into the air around me as I welcomed the praise from my loved ones.
In all honesty, the time from first black belt testing to my latest, is all a blur. Of course I
remember big moments such as my family opening a school to call our own, multiple injuries
that made life a little more difficult, and my first couple years of Instructors Camp. However, all
of these cant hold a candle to my test for fourth dan, my masters. This test was not too different
from my previous ones: same physical requirements, a few more forms and self defenses than
that of lower belts, but overall, practically the same. The thing that was so different about this
particular test was that I was almost not allowed to participate. In standard Tae Kwon Do
organizations, no students can become a master until they are at least 18 years of age and 14 year

old me, had a slight problem. I was devastated to think about having to wait to test. I was able to
complete all of the requirements necessary to obtain a master, even better than some of the other
testers. My parents, who had been training alongside me for years, would surpass me in rank and
I would have fallen behind everyone else in our organization. Then, a sort of miracle happened.
My master, Master Evins, went to his master, Master Lee, and got special permission for me to
test for my fourth dan on time. I guess I didnt understand the magnitude of the favor at the time
but I wish I did because then I would have been a lot more grateful for the situation, but this
caused me to be the youngest master, at a whopping age of 14, in our entire organization. This
allowed me to test with my family and to continue training with them throughout the past four
years.
When people think of martial arts, obviously, some form of struggles come to mind. Tae Kwon
Do takes a lot of physical endurance, discipline, and strength. Whether this struggle comes from
learning the language, Korean, or understanding the mechanics behind all of the techniques, or
simply being able to represent yourself as a black belt, both on and off the mat; we all go through
our own struggles and must persevere in order to overcome them. At this point, I think I fully
understand the meaning behind the old slogan King Tiger Tae Kwon Do: where life champions
are trained. Not only does it refer to the type of champion who wins awards, or the kind who
study hard and understand the history and techniques down to a T, but also includes the type of
champions who can live life with purpose: those who are kind, humble, considerate, and
courageous, even in the simplest of manners, are, in short, the champions of life.