Highest Rank

Tonight was the first time I've ever been the highest rank in a Taekwondo class. I've been second highest before, but never highest. For those who don't know, the highest rank lines up first (furthest to the right) in the first row and is responsible for saying the necessary words to bow everyone in and begin and end class. This involves knowing (and in my case remembering) some key Korean words/phrases: cha-ryuht (attention); geuk gi hyang kyung-nae (bow to the flags); sabumnim kyung-nae (bow to the Master); kahm sa hamnida (thank you).

More than the words, though, being the highest rank comes with a responsibility I didn't anticipate. Everyone is looking to you for an example of, well...everything. How to pronounce the words, how to behave while Master White is speaking or instructing, how to move your body in the right way. I realized as we were warming up, and I was going through the same warm up exercises I have done for three years now, that the white belts at the back of the room only know me as a black belt. They didn't see me progress; they weren't there while I struggled at the back of the room, trying to figure out how to turn my hips so I could execute a good round kick. They only know me as the highest rank, one who's supposed to be experienced and polished. And while I'm sure they don't expect me to be perfect (or maybe they do -- did I expect the black belts to know everything back then?), they certainly look to me as an example of how to do things properly.

When I think about it like that, it all seems pretty crazy -- I mean, I'm no expert. I may be a black belt, and sure it took lots of training and hard work to get there, but I have so much to learn. Becoming a black belt is really just the beginning. I hardly feel capable of teaching, and yet, here I am doing exactly that. And people are calling me "Ma'am," and that's weird too.

Theoretically, none of this affects my performance. I still give 100%. But somehow that 100% seems more focused, more aware of details in my stances and kicks, and less willing to slack off when things get tough. At the end of class, as we bow out, we all say kahm sa hamnida to each other (Master White included). We say "thank you" for teaching us, and he says "thank you" for being my students. And now I know why.