Two-Way Street

“Karate begins and ends with courtesy.” ~ Gichin Funakoshi

When I started calling around about karate classes for El Nino Loco, I found out that most places suggest they be four-and-a-half to five years old before beginning.  Something about focus and listening skills not being developed well until then, although I’m 33 and have a black belt in daydreaming so I’m not sure how much age dictates mastery of such skills.  One place I called suggested bringing him in for a private lesson and just seeing how he did, so off we went.

Looking back on the whole experience now, which we will get to in a minute, I should have known that I wouldn’t like the guy.  For purposes of this story let’s just refer to him as Sensai Doucheturd.  He was very short and curt with me on the phone, but people are busy these days so I just assumed I caught him between classes.  He told me to check the website for a description of the “Back to School” special and I asked him for the website address again and he let out a big sigh and said, “Can’t you Google?”  Why yes, I can Google – and what I should have Googled was “Karate Dojos OTHER than Sensai Doucheturd’s.”

Yesterday we headed to the Dojo of the Mofo Sensai Doucheturd.  Again, instincts kicked in and from the moment he started talking I realized he wasn’t going to click with me or with Nollie.  He introduced himself and mispronounced my name after I said it for him twice.  Then he stuck his hand out for Nolan and said, in that same patronizing tone he used with me on the phone, “Son you need to shake my hand.”  Um, Nolan was already reaching out to shake his hand.

Off they went out onto the mat.  It was 25 minutes of me nearly biting my tongue clean off to keep from shouting out, “Oh my God asshole, just shut up!”  Eric had to leave.  Sensai Doucheturd kept telling Nolan that karate is about respect, all the while yelling at him to face front,  speak up but then don’t yell, hold still but then punch, etc.  I felt like I had entered PRE-K SEAL training.  The best part was when he told Nolan that they only count in Japanese in his Dojo, but then didn’t tell him what numbers sounded like in Japanese.  He instructed Nolan to punch when he counted and then started counting in Japanese.  Nolan looked confused and Sensai Doucheturd bitched, “Son, I’m counting – why aren’t you punching?”  Cue me stifling a giggle as I saw the image of Chris Tucker asking Jackie Chan in Rush Hour, “Do you understand the words that are coming out of my mouth?”

Look, Eric and I are really, really big on being respectful.  In fact, I would say that out of all the parents we know we are probably most hard on our kid about this issue.  I understand karate “begins and ends with respect.”  Yup, ten-four.  Roger that.  Part of the reason I wanted to explore karate was to reinforce that principle with Nolan.  But respect on any level is a two-way street; you have to give it to receive it.  I was so proud of Nolan because he did what he was told and didn’t whine or cry or otherwise seem to notice that he was being belittled, patronized and disrespected.  It also made me realize how innocent and trusting he is.  And I’m ashamed of myself that I didn’t just stop the lesson, scoop up my kid and walk out.  He’s four and a half.  He’s going to fidget a little.  He’s going to be intimidated and not talk loudly when you are barking orders at him.  And he doesn’t know how to count in Japanese; that’s the karate teacher’s JOB…to teach him karate and how to be respectful.

I do think respect is a dying art form.  I am a big time people watcher, which compliments my daydreaming issue quite nicely, and I have watched people of all ages do any of the following on a given day:  blow smoke in the general direction of a baby stroller, spit where other people are walking, belch, burp, or otherwise expel intestinal gas from their bodies in public, come to work deathly ill and then cough and sneeze all over the community office equipment, perform the equivalent of a breast self-exam on the bagels at the grocery store with their bare hands before deciding on one…and…really the list is endless.  I can’t decide if people just don’t think or if they just don’t care anymore.  Either way, I do not want my child to grow up to be a disrespectful, gassy, smoker with a chronic chest cold and a fetish for molesting baked goods.  He’s better than that.

So in the end, our karate experience ended up teaching me a valuable lesson about respect and that is this – the first step in the lesson of respect is respecting yourself enough to know you deserve respect from everyone.  Last night I told Nolan, “That man was very rude and he shouldn’t have been so mean to you.  You don’t ever have to go back.”   He looked at me and said, “Mommy, it’s not nice to call someone rude.”  Seems like I don’t need Sensai Doucheturd to teach my kid a damn thing.  Oh and if he ever talks to my kid again I will punch him in his “kintama” which is testicles in Japanese.  And yes, I did Google that.