Ninja Level Up!

Well, it's about that time, wouldn't you say?
What time IS it, Jeff-teacher?



It's ninja time.

Have you ever wanted to be a ninja?  You could win any fight with a pack of lions, hide in the shadows behind a drinking fountain, leap as if you could fly, balance on a blade of grass, fly, teleport, and walk on water.  You would have tiger blood AND Adonis DNA.  You could stare down Chuck Norris and his beard would strangle him in panic.  You would be a Jedi, a Knight Templar, a Man in Black, all in The Matrix.  You would be able to teleport EVEN MORE pop culture references into this paragraph.   Matt Damon.

Well, everybody may not be kung fu fighting, but your intrepid teacher/poet/blogger/fashionplate sure has been.  The world is long overdue for a glimpse into the secret ninja schools of Korea.  This glimpse will roundhouse kick your face off.

Taekwondo:
We're into the final month of my training now, with the test fast approaching on April 23rd.  I have learned every form up to and including the Black Belt form Taeguk Pal-jang.  That form is required for the test.  The other form will remain shrouded in a cardboard box of secrecy on a torn slip of paper probably enchanted by a mountain sage.  Probably.  After the two form tests, I will perform a display of my kicking ability.  Then I will break boards.  I have never broken boards, nor have I actually recieved training in how to do this.  Fortunately, I'm supposed to break them with a punch.  Many other students at my school dislike this option.  They wish they could chop, or kick.
This boxer smile and begs them "oh no, please don't throw me in that there briar patch!  Anything but that!"
And for my final test, I'll have to fight another black belt.  Winning would be nice here, but it's insufficient for victory.  I've considered using tactics they're completely unused to (Tukkong, boxing, not showering for three weeks before) in order to win, but it turns out I am actually being judged on my ability to fight using taekwondo.  Unorthodox tactics?  no dice.
After that?  Who knows.  Maybe I'll recieve enlightenment.

NINJA TIP:  Lost your passport in an airport?  Assassinate everyone around you and take theirs.  With your ninja mask on, you'll surely be able to pass for one of them.

Tukkong Musul.
First test complete!  And what a scene it was.  Picture, if you will...
The Tukkong studio:  a much shabbier place than the shiny new Taekwondo studio.  This dojang (Korean for Dojo) is unheated, un-air-conditioned, in a building with crumbling walls and stale cigarette smoke and mildew in the stairs.  But through the steel door emblazoned with the eagle of the Korea World Tukkong Assosciation, things get different in a hurry.  Yes, the students near the portable gas heater are boiling, and yes the students by the thin windows are shivering, but every green belt (third level) student here is an equal match for any black belt at the Taekwondo school.  Come testing day, however, things get serious.
The Instructor's desk is moved to the front of the Dojang, and hung with the flag of the Assosciation.  In perfect rows, we kneel at the back.  Names are called.  Test takers are acknowledged.  The testing begins.
My name is called.
I rise from the kneeling ranks,eyes watching me and wondering "can the foreigner really do it?"
"I am Jeff" I declare in korean.  (somewhere, a gladiator is wishing he could sue me)
I bow, giving the fist-in-hand salute, advance to the testing area, and strike the attack stance.
The instructor calls out the commands, and I begin.
I cycle through the blocks, strikes, and stances, calling their names.
"Geongyeok! Pangeo! Pyeongjasae! Abgubi!-" I try to keep my mind two steps ahead, so I never have to hesitate.  Finishing the stances, I take up the striking pose.  The instructor gives the go-command.
"Jongkwan! Kwansuk! Deungkwan! Ansudo!-" My mind slips.  I can't remember the name of the knuckle strike that targets the xyphoid process at the tip of the sternum.  I run through the list, my body on autopilot, carelessly beating the ever-loving crap out of the helpless air in front of me.  A fraction of a second before the strike comes up, it comes back to me,
"Jungjikwan!"
The strikes and blocks fly by, and I give a final kiyap (that whole HIYA! thing), and hit the last pose.
"Baro", the instructor commands me to return.  I bow and kneel at the back. 
Two days later, I drop my rookie rank forever and join the multicolored multitudes with my still-creased yellow belt. 

I did eventually come to a decision about how to leave my mark on this world as a Badass.  A creed doesn't last the way the sculptures and pottery of the Romans and Greeks did.  So one my exploits are known around the world, I would like to be depicted as the heroes and myths used to be:
Armed with their trademark weapon, defeating powerful enemies, and heroically nude.
I'm only willing to compromise on two of those.

Oh, one last ninja-note.  A student told me my female co-teacher watched Dragonball Z.  I found it strange that a woman who was several years my senior watched this martial arts Japanese cartoon.  I asked her about it in the office.
"Yes of course!  Which series of it?"
"Are you talking about Dragonball?" my supervisor asked.
Before I knew it, every single Korean teacher was discussing their favorite characters in the show, and I could only catch occasional names as they all slipped back into korean.  The youngest among them was 27, and others were in their thirties.  Our concept of Anime-Nerd is largely irrelevant here.


I'll leave you with this thought, from the Ask A Ninja,

What CAN'T a ninja do?
Not be a ninja.



...or can we?


'Til next time,
Jeff-Teacher