There is something to turning up week after week to a class that you commit to. My son started Karate and Gymnastic last fall and we have not missed one class. Sometime we go through the motions of getting dressed for class, waking up Laura from her nap, loading up in the car, driving to the locations with little emotion passed the mundane. But we show up regardless of how we feel. Matthew runs into class, enthusiasm growing with sight of his friends and teacher. I stand, sit, chase after Laura in the back with all the other moms. We chat, watch, comment on our schedules, our kids education plans, compare notes on child rearing and schedules. Sometimes we are silent intent on noting our child’s progress.
Matthew has benefited from our diligent attendance. He was a tad physically timid when he was really small, nothing too bad, but not as dare devilish as I thought a little boy would be. That has all changed this year. He has gained a confidence in his abilities that has surprised me. He can do great hand stands and blocking drills. His form looks pretty good to me and his teachers are pleased with his progress. We are not on an athletic career path, but he is learning great physical skills that will help him in whatever he chooses to do.
So we will turn up again on Thursday to karate. Lily will play with Glenda and Avery who wait for their siblings to finish. Laura will crawl around and pull on things. I may talk to my mum on the phone. It is 11pm in Dublin when we are at class and she calls before she winds down for the night, just to check in. Matthew, in his little black karate suit lined with white satin dissected by his orange stripe belt, will do his best, smiling the whole time, loudly shouting ‘ki-yah’ as he does a double front punch & roundhouse. At the end he will line up and bellow with his fellow students ‘Little Ninja’s are Awesome’ and run wildly to get his hand stamped.
We will do it again and again. And one day his belt will be solid black.
