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2002 Black Belt Test Summary
by Kavi Massood
Wednesday July 31, 2002 • Boise, Idaho
Pre-Test Jitters
With about three months remaining, I started to have serious doubts about
the 1st dan test. Why did I have to test?
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I shared my frustrations with Erin one day and found out that the both of us had the same feelings about the test. After a long chat, we decided that I would approach Master Wright and tell him that I was not ready for the test, that I needed more time.
The workouts were frustrating. I remembered the time when Taekwondo was actually fun, and how much I enjoyed it. "Whatever happened to that," I wondered. Anyway, Master Wright, knocked some sense into me over a round of light free sparring and told me to focus my energy on preparing for the test and not worrying about it.
For me, that was the clincher. He wouldn't let me test if he thought I wasn't ready. He had faith in me and my abilities, I thought. Soon afterwards, the tickets to Boise, Idaho were bought and hotel reservations made, and getting the camp dates early on had been quite a challenge too.
Training continued to be frustrating every now and then, esp the last week before the test. This coupled with stress outside the dojang didn't help things either. I could see I was not alone, and that was a source of comfort in some ways, But it was more difficult to see my friends, Erin and Paige, struggle. Pass or fail, we were in this together.
I figured the only way I was going to get through this was to have a fun test, and do what I could, heck I wasn't gonna get better between now and the test. I told myself that I would laugh at myself if...err...when I goofed. I kept thinking I had nothing left to prove and that if I did not pass, it would hurt, but not for long—a sharp contrast from what I had been feeling a few weeks before.
Test Day: Are you ready?
So, the fateful day arrived, unusually calm. Boise is a small, slow and
quiet town, with big mountains and bigger skies.
The late morning walk to
Walgreens was pleasant—the sound of the leaves ruffling was louder (and
nicer!) than the sound of cars zipping by. I ate very little that day—
just bagels, bananas and drank a lot of water. I felt good—it was the
feeling of the hard work is over, now it is time to do what you can and
have fun at it.
By 1:30PM Erin, Paige and Master Wright had arrived, and we headed to the Master Duke's, our host's, dojang at about 4PM and began our warm up. Strangely enough, I was not nervous like I usually am. Heck, I'd get nervous just going to building K for a regular workout.
Finally, the moment came—we lined up in front of Masters Ur (U.C. Berkeley), Duke (ID), Wright (GWU), Kang (Yongin) and Messers Lee (Yongin) and Drazda (ID) and bowed in. Dr. Ur, the senior most amongst us, told us to not to be nervous, not to get injured, pretend we were at a regular practice, and to have fun. Have fun?! Was he reading my mind? Needless to say, his words were calming.
But, wait...wasn't the test about breaking you? How could you have fun when someone is trying to torture you beyond your physical limits? Maybe, it was going to be fun for them.
The test was nothing unfamiliar—kicks, strikes, stances, paddles, shields, combinations thereof. Yup, we did it all. During the 6th form— Yuk-Jang—I made two mistakes, A and B. Master Duke spotted B and I spotted A. He asked me, if I had made a mistake. I said yes, not realizing we were talking about two different things. I fixed mistake A, but not B, the second time, so Master Duke asked, about the second in-to-out open hand block. "What is that technique?", he said. I said "It is probably...", he interrupted promptly "Probably what...?!" I was unsure, so I became nervous, stuttered my way to half-an-answer, which was that the technique was a block. He said, it is a strike. I insisted, it was a block. He insisted it was a strike. He then turned to Master Wright, and ask in a soft voice "It is a strike...?", Master Wright shook his head confidently, "It is a block". I could see but not hear this exchange, but I was told later that Dr. Ur interrupted both of them ("Do not disagree with each other"), and the test went on.
Then came the sparring and it lasted all of two rounds. Ms. Duke was a pleasure to spar with—she could've easily taken my head off, but was kind enough to spare me. Board breaks—3 techniques, 5 boards— followed, and it was all over. A group hug, with sighs of relief came next, a bad Chinese dinner and we went back to our hotel. And that was the test? The results would be announced the next Sunday, 9 AM, the last day of camp.
The test is over; now what?
And before you knew it, camp was almost over, and the hour approached. As
Erin, Paige and I stretched, and warmed up, I could see the glee of
anticipation in their eyes.
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| Three New Black Belts |
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Wow, that was it?! Apparently so.
In preparation for the test, I had often wondered how I would respond if the committee asked "Why should we give you a black belt?" and "What does a black belt mean to you?" I thought it was unfair to ask someone the value of something he/she does not have and whether he/she thinks he/she is deserving of the same. To me a black belt represents not a result, but a process. This process may lead to the result, but the result is not the goal; the goal is going through the process of achieving the result.
To this day, I smile to myself and sometimes to everyone, when I think of this black belt I now wear. The black trims on my adidas uniform are nice too. I was fortunate to have good friends to test with, and friends who lent that precious, patient listening ear when I needed it. And good instructors who spent 3 long years, night after night, teaching me new things, correcting my bad habits, critizing my techniques, and making Taekwondo fun, but most of all, believing in me, and taking me through this process. This black belt would be nothing without them. •