KyungYet

So... do you honestly think these 1970s films will stand the test of time for my 19-22 year old college students who've only seen wirework and CGI for martial arts? Chuck is the real deal, but he's not always dynamic, technique-wise. Tough luck - this is part of their martial arts education, right?

Interestingly, I've only ever doubted people (myself, certain instructors). I've never doubted the art itself or its techniques. It is what it is, and I accept it for its strengths and weaknesses. One's training is pure - it's the one thing that will never lie to you, let you down, or fail you. ... I wish I could say the same for humans!

Bah. You're right. Doesn't mean it still wouldn't be cool. Where's my financial backer and production company when I need them?? Lone Wolf McQuade it is, then.

Amen, brother. I hear ya. Although I like to imagine that I'm a super athlete in my head as I'm falling asleep. I wonder what it might look like if martial arts studios had a special achievement rank parallel to but not exactly a black belt. I think this whole argument centers around our society's rejection of the idea that there might be things that some people can't have - we're a very "anybody can do anything!" kind of society (which I mostly admire). But not everybody can get a PhD. Some people just flunk out. And not everyone can be a doctor or a policeman, or an NFL player. And despite what we tell our children, not everyone can really be president of the United States (probably). So how come we all accept that, but we don't accept that not everyone can be a black belt? I guess because it's a leisure activity, not a necessity/public service? Or because there's no direct and tangible negative consequence for giving out black belts (as opposed to having your roofer decide he's your surgeon!)? All I have are more questions, no answers.

Good points, John, and I do understand the value of recognizing effort and improvement. It's like I said: being a black belt is more than kicking high and hitting hard, there's character development and I respect that. I also very much agree that those who have to work harder generally value their achievement more, and those for whom it comes easy may misuse it or drop out since it didn't require much effort to attain. That's the part of me that agrees with you and always has. But my objections have nothing to do with the devaluing of my black belt. I hope I don't come off as that self-centered! It actually doesn't matter to me at all what other martial artists do (in terms of my own rank). When I was a kid, and I would slack off and do sloppy pushups just to get them done, my instructor would ask me: "do you know what happens to me if you don't do all your pushups?" And I'd guess, "I dunno, you get in trouble? You get fired?" And he'd say, "nope! Nothing happens to me. I can do 100 pushups. What happens to YOU is that you end up weak." I fervently believe that today. What I meant was that a doctor who isn't really a doctor is dangerous. And a singer who gets put on the radio because they're blind instead of talented gets a false sense of their own capabilities. Someone who thinks they're a black belt but really doesn't deserve to be, performance-wise, may have the same problems. And even though we like to reward effort, in the end, its ability we generally test and value (e.g., my college students all probably wish I'd grade them on how worthy they feel or how hard they studied, but what I actually grade them on - at least mostly - is performance, plain and simple). So back to my philosophical dilemma: are we awarding black belts based upon performance? Or upon effort? Or upon character? Is a black belt like a starting spot on a football team (e.g., if you can't perform well, even if you "try" real hard, there's no way the coach is going to start you) or is a black belt like getting chosen for the team in the first place (even if you sit on the bench and never play, because the coach wanted you to feel like you were part of something and you tried hard)? I dunno. Like I said, I see both sides and struggle with this. But I'm really enjoying this discussion!

Two years later, I wonder where you are in your Chun Kuk Do training and if you still practice? I started in a Chuck Norris school in 1984 and joined UFAF a few years later. However, all the UFAF schools in my area closed shortly afterwards when Mr. Norris moved away and took my instructor, Rick Prieto, with him. Hence, I'm sort of stuck in a 1980s UFAF time-warp. I'm definitely not Chun Kuk Do, but I'm not traditional Tang Soo Do, either. How's it going? Still at it? Do you like it? KY

Haha, that's a quotable quote if I ever saw one. I agree. There's definitely a machisimo associated with the martial arts (snarling, bloody faces grimly punching their way through opponents... all of us have watched too many martial arts movies and UFC matches) but I don't think it's a special badge of courage to get battered every time one fights. I think everyone needs to know that they can take a serious hit and keep swinging, but the advent of safety equipment is definitely a boon and allows those who don't want to leave the school with their nose smeared across their cheekbones (children, certainly; women, perhaps; plenty of guys, too) the opportunity to learn speed, technique, strategy, etc, etc. And, like you said - it's enjoyable, which shouldn't be underrated. Now here's where it gets really interesting to me. I've argued this one out in my head a bunch of times. This really depends on what you think the symbol of "black belt" means. I understand your POV and part of me agrees with it. But... part of me also feels like "black belt" should be a standardized benchmark with enough meaning behind it that when we say someone is a "black belt," anyone who hears it knows roughly what that means. Hence, if a person cannot perform to the standard for what a black belt ought to be able to do, they cannot have a black belt. So wait: some people just never get to earn their black belt? After years of training and effort? Philosophically, at least, I sort of think... yeah. Some somewhat comparable examples for the fun of letting you pick them apart: 1) I couldn't quite pass the tests necessary to be a police officer. But I was really shy and overweight before applying! My improvement ought to be enough to get me accepted! 2) I don't really sing well enough to deserve a record contract. But I used to sing REALLY poorly and now I can carry a tune! Plus, I'm blind!! That's a huge disadvantage. So you should put me on the radio! 3) I didn't have good enough grades or a high enough MCAT to get into medical school. But I really really want to be a doctor super-badly, and I've studied very hard and taken my MCAT multiple times! Isn't it time you recognized my effort and improvement and just let me in? Haha, that was fun. LOL. I know those were over the top, but that's the crap I come up with in my head when I think about whether or not "black belt" ought to mean something static or something dynamic. If people can't meet a particular standard, and as a result, we simply lower our standard to meet them, we've weakened our entire framework. Not to mention that no one knows what it means when you say you have a "black belt" because it might range anywhere from "I am Bruce Lee" to "I try really hard and my instructor wants to reward me for my effort!" I've definitely seen THAT ability gap out in the real world. Of course, this all depends on how you decide what the necessary qualities of a black belt are, and I believe your argument is that there's more to it, character-wise, than just kicking higher than a proscribed level and beating people up sufficiently. Without padding. Well, so I just wanted to philosophize. I don't think I'm wrong. But I don't think I'm right, either. This is always my internal struggle. Philosophize back at me.

A) You did great, especially after a break and recuperation! And considering all the different events you spread yourself out over. Congratulations! B) I think it's really awesome that you lost to your master. You know? That he still competes and is still good enough to take you down. It seems inevitable that students outdo their masters, especially as they get older, but it's really an inspiration to me (and I can only assume to you, too!) to have someone to still look up to like that. KY

Over my years of training, I've found that nearly every federation/studio has a slightly different take on the hyungs - and that even within the same studio over the years, tiny moves and interpretations get changed, either subtly or through grand pronouncement. Why? I think it's usually an attempt to clarify/modernize what are perceived to be difficult-to-understand movements. I think there's also an narcissistic component: making the hyungs "your own" or assuming that your own clarification/twist on a form "improves" it is a projection of one's ego. I've been tempted to do it myself, but I resist. I try to stick with the way I learned the form originally, ignoring changes that have been made since. And lately, I've even been going back and reading HC Hwang's Soo Bahk Do books, going backwards to the original versions of the form from when hey were originally created. After all, if hyungs are the cultural and traditional component of our art, their value to some degree lies in maintaining their integrity. That is, whatever version is practiced will improve speed, strength, breathing, focus, technique, etc. - so we might as well do the oldest, most traditional version possible, right? I'd rather practice the original ideas of Master Hwang Kee from the 1940s than the detail-y, personal changes made by Joe Karate Guy for his studio last week. What's your take on this? And BTW - my apologies if I sound opinionated and judgmental. I am the former but don't mean to be the latter. =) Kamsahamnida!

I've been taking TSD since I was 11. I started at a Chuck Norris school in the San Fernando Valley. We try to split our focus so we don't spend all our time on any one thing; when we spar, we generally use light contact but a lot of the black belts like to go harder and no one stops them as long as both parties are amenable and nothing/no one gets too badly damaged. S

So, my Tang Soo Do students wanted to have a movie night, but they insisted they wanted to watch a TSD movie... and I realized, there really isn't one. That is, all Chuck Norris movies are TSD movies I suppose, but none of them were made to exemplify Tang Soo Do in the way that "Ong Bak" shows off Muay Thai, "The Perfect Weapon" shows off Kempo, or "Ip Man" shows off Wing Chun. I would love to see a movie made about Hwang Kee: how he learned as a boy by watching from a hilltop as a master practiced in his yard; how he traveled to Manchuria to work on the railroad and learned T'ang style Kung Fu; how he started the Moo Duk Kwan after Korea was freed from Japanese rule; how he refused to give up teaching TSD when the government pressured him to drop it and teach TKD instead... I think it could be every bit as cool a film as "Ip Man." ... Now I just need a bazillion dollars and I can go make it, LOL. In the meantime, am I right? That there really IS not a solid Tang Soo Do or even Tae Kwon Do film (I suppose "Best of the Best" counts for TKD... it really is just TSD that got left in the cold). It's stupid that it takes Hollywood to legitimize an art in the eyes of the public, but look at what "The Karate Kid" did for martial arts in general... it would be cool to have a representational movie for our style. And if I DO end up showing a Norris film, which one do you think is best to demonstrate the best of TSD? I'm thinking maybe Lone Wolf McQuade? Ahhh, 'tis a real first-world problem, eh?

I always say that what matters is the instructor, not the style. If you find a good instructor that you're happy with, the art doesn't really matter - and certainly not if the difference between the two styles in question is as small as that between TSD and TKD... TSD is actually a progenitor of TKD and they both share more DNA than do humans and chimps, LOL. Previous posters are right: TSD is a little more "traditional" than TKD and TKD focuses on point-sparring more, because it's the national sport of Korea. TSD is not a sport. It's a traditional art and therein lies the main difference (more in emphasis than actual technique, most of the time). I think the reason that TKD dojangs get a bad rap for being McDojos is because there are so damned many of them. It's not really TKD's fault as an art: if there were as many, I dunno, Isshin-Ryu dojos as there were TKD dojos, a lot of those would end up being dodgy. It's just a numbers game. More studios of the same type = more competition = more dodgy studios. I like TKD just fine - again, just find a serious studio with a solid instructor who doesn't give away belts for tuition.

I think its interesting that most arguments here have centered around the assumption that a technique must be effective in a streetfight to be worthwhile (e.g., "modern") and that something "too traditional" (like a forearm block or a really obscure and unlikely movement) is something to avoid. People take martial arts for very different reasons, and there are lots of different things to be gained from martial arts. Practical self-defense and badassery on the street may be one of them. But there is also self-discipline, self-control, respect, flexibility, strength, conditioning of body parts, cultural and traditional aspects, a sense of community, blah blah blah... Myself, I love my hyungs (katas, just in Korean). Many of the moves in them are fairly impractical. Many of our "traditional" moves are somewhat impractical as well, in street-fighting terms (or at least, there are more practical versions of them elsewhere or they need to be modified into a fighting version of themselves to be practical). But this does not discourage or bother me, because I thoroughly enjoy the traditional, historical, cultural aspect of my art. If that's not what floats your boat, personally, then my art would be a poor fit for you (which is fine! To each their own!). I think I'm just sayin' different strokes for different folks, and the sum total value of an art may not be (for everyone) the degree to which all of its techniques are effective in street combat. Good replies, all - interesting topic.

For what it's worth, I cobbled this together for my student manual from a number of sources over a few days of intensive research: --------- Long ago, Korea was divided into the Three Kingdoms: Silla, Goguryeo, and Baekje. Eventually, they all came to be unified under Silla, which was the most renowned of the Three for its martial skill. The King of Silla created a military force known as the Hwarang (the “Flower Knights”) - young men sent into the mountains to study history, ethics, Buddhist philosophy, and military tactics along with their combat skills. These elite warrior-aristocrats were meant to serve as models of the Korean culture and as chivalrous, educated soldiers. The Hwarang and their Rangdo (disciples) were known collectively as the Hwarangdo – the Flowering Knights and their Disciple Warriors. They were roughly the equivalent of the Japanese Shogun and their samurai. The Hwarangdo practiced the predominant martial art of the time, Subak (which utilized strikes, kicks, jointlocks, and throws), as well as mastering the spear, bow, and sword. The unified Silla Kingdom was eventually overthrown, and during the subsequent Yi Dynasty (circa AD 1400), Confucianist ideology stressed the literary arts over the martial. As a result, Subak was relegated to competitions rather than actual combat training, and was assimilated into other styles of the time such as Soo Bahk and Tae Kyun. Martial arts as a whole became more popular with the public as an art or sport and were known by various names such as Kwan Bop, Tang Soo, and others. The legacy of the ancient Hwarangdo is carried on by the martial art Hwa Rang Do - “The Way of the Flowering Knights” – founded in the 1960s by a Korean master who claims to have learned the lost Hwarang ways as they were passed secretly from monk to monk over 58 generations. Japan took military control of Korea in 1904 and occupied the country through economic and military dominance until 1945. During this time, the Japanese attempted to eradicate Korean culture and replace it with their own, and so a restriction was placed on all practice and teaching of Korean martial arts. Instead, only Japanese arts, such as Judo and Shotokan karate were allowed. Those who wished to maintain their traditional Korean arts were forced to practice in secret, and in the end, many of them were heavily influenced by linearity of the Japanese styles being taught at the time. After World War II ended in 1945, the restriction on teaching Korean arts was lifted, and five schools (or “Kwans”) were quickly founded: Song Moo Kwan (“The Ever Youthful School”); Chang Moo Kwan (“The School of Martial Learning”); Yun Moo Kwan (“Wisdom Way School”); Chung Do Kwan (“The Blue Waves School”); the second largest martial arts institute in Korea, and Moo Duk Kwan (“The School of Martial Virtue”) - founded by martial arts prodigy Hwang Kee, and eventually to become the largest and most popular Kwan in Korea. As a boy, Hwang Kee witnessed a man defend himself successfully against several attackers using a martial art called Tae Kyun and begged him for training. The Master refused him. Undaunted, Kee followed him home and found a hill from which he could watch the Master train in his home. In this way, Kee taught himself Tae Kyun, studying the Master covertly each day from his hilltop perch and practicing the movements he observed. Kee later traveled to Manchuria, China, as a high school student, where he studied the Tang method of Kung Fu. During the Japanese occupation, he studied Shotokan and Okinawa-te, as well. When he finally formed his first school in 1945, the Moo Duk Kwan, the style he taught was an amalgam of traditional Korean art, linear Japanese style, and the Chinese Kung Fu he had learned in Manchuria. He called this style Hwa Soo Do (“The Way of the Flowering Hand”). He afterwards changed this name to Tang Soo Do (“The Way of the Chinese Hand”) to acknowledge the influence of the Tang Dynasty’s Kung Fu on his own style. After reading the Muye Dobo Tongji - a historic, illustrated manual of traditional Korean martial arts commissioned by a King in the late 1700s – Hwang Kee was inspired by references to the ancient and original martial system of Subak and spent arduous hours incorporating these techniques into his art. By the mid 1950s, several new Kwans had emerged. The Korean President ordered that all the Kwans unify under one system and that this art be taught to the Korean military. The name “Tae Kwon Do” (“The Way of Foot and Fist”) was submitted and accepted by the Government, and thus the nine Kwans of the time were collectively the founders of modern Tae Kwon Do. Hwang Kee did not agree with this decision to consolidate, however, and maintained autonomy of his Tang Soo Do school. Some of his high-ranking students at the Moo Duk Kwan, however, transitioned into teaching Tae Kwon Do, and since all other Kwans were also teaching Tae Kwon Do, Tang Soo Do became synonymous with Hwang Kee’s original Moo Duk Kwan institute. A rivalry grew between Tae Kwon Do and Tang Soo Do; factions allegedly supported by the government attempted to block the Moo Duk Kwan from operating successfully. In the 1970s, this dispute went before the Korean courts, who ruled in favor of Hwang Kee and the Moo Duk Kwan. In 1995, at the 50th anniversary celebration of the founding of his school, Hwang Kee officially changed the name of his style to Soo Bahk Do (“The Hand Striking Way”) after adding a number of techniques to reflect the ancient style of Subak. By this time, some 75% of all martial artists in Korea were already practicing some version of Tang Soo Do. Only actual students of Hwang Kee’s Moo Duk Kwan can truly call themselves practitioners of Soo Bahk Do, and so many studios that practice a very similar version of this art continue to call themselves students of Tang Soo Do. As a result, Hwang Kee’s Moo Duk Kwan school of Martial Virtue has been responsible in one way or another for the spread of Tang Soo Do, Soo Bahk Do, and Tae Kwon Do to throughout the world. In the ancient martial arts, there were only two belts: white and black. One was a white belt for as many years as it took for the belt to become covered in enough sweat, blood, and dirt to make it dark. Hwang Kee’s original Tang Soo Do envisioned four belts: white belt (representing Winter and an empty martial landscape), green belt (representing Spring and a fresh, new beginning), red belt (representing Summer and the ripening of skill), and midnight blue. While many other styles include a black belt, Hwang Kee disliked that black was a color “to which nothing more could be added,” preferring the idea that one could always improve and learn more. When martial arts were introduced to America, a number of new belt colors were added as encouragement to students who grew frustrated by years of practice with no tangible mark of improvement. Chuck Norris, part of the U.S. Air Force during the Korean War, took up Judo at a South Korean Air Base in 1957, but after injuring his shoulder in a fall, began studying Tang Soo Do instead. After long and intense hours of daily training for over a year, Mr. Norris tested for his midnight blue belt under Master Hwang Kee, but did not pass. He succeeded three months later. Upon returning to the States, others at his base showed an interest in his training, so he began a Tang Soo Do class there. After his discharge in 1962, he opened his first studio in Torrance, California. He was largely responsible for spreading Tang Soo Do in the United States, especially as his celebrity grew. Because he left Korea before Hwang Kee changed his Moo Duk Kwan to Soo Bahk Do, American Tang Soo Do as popularized by Mr. Norris remains true to Master Kee’s original style, without the additions of Subak’s ancient teachings. American Tang Soo Do generally includes the following belt rankings: white, purple, orange, blue, green, red, and black. In 1990, Chuck Norris founded Chun Kuk Do (“The Universal Way”), a Korean-based American hybrid martial arts style that combines aspects of many martial arts including Judo, Kempo, and Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu. ------------ I've been training in TSD for nearly 30 years and I love it: it's pretty even-handed in it's attack distribution (50% hands, 50% feet) and incorporates some good sweeps and throws as well. It's pretty weak on the ground-fighting front though, which is why Norris included this in his own style Chun Kuk Do. It's a lot less well-known than it's sister style, Tae Kwon Do, which makes it appealing to me (I like the obscure) but still fairly well-practiced here in the states. I sometimes wish it were prettier and more flashy like wing chun or capoeira, but that's just because I love a good show. TSD gets it's job done and has a number of beautiful movements and forms itself. Hope this helped to flesh out an already well-answered post.

So many ranks nowadays! It was originally white --> green --> red --> midnight blue. Then Hwang Kee added orange; other studios added other colors and stripes and stickers and polka dots, LOL. When I was ranking up as a kid, it was already pretty busy: white --> purple --> orange --> blue (add one stripe) --> green (add two stripes) --> red (add two stripes) --> black. I learned in a Norris studio, which is "American TSD" not traditional Moo Duk Kwan TSD (now Soo Bahk Do). And of course nowadays, Norris' style is Chun Kuk Do and integrates all sorts of grappling and stuff... how things change. Sometimes, I wish I could go back in time and take a class from Hwang Kee at the original Moo Duk Kwan just to see what it would be like. =)

This is actually a more complicated question than it seems. It's a good one. And we'll skip the important question of "for what?" That is, do we prefer effectiveness or good technique... for what? Board breaking? Katas? Demonstration? Classroom sparring? Barroom brawling? You get the idea. This question basically asks the difference between a Chuck Norris and a Jean-Claude VanDamme. I've seen movies starring them both, and had the luck to see them both spar in person. Chuck Norris does not look pretty when he fights. He damn near looks sloppy at times. But he also went undefeated for 6 years. JCVD, with a background in ballet, looks pristine. By looks alone, you would assume he was the better martial artist, because his technique is nearly flawless. But he's not. He's a fine martial artist and fighter, but there is no way he could handle Sloppy Jalopy Norris in his prime. Effectiveness wins that battle. The next question is whether an alternate universe Chuck Norris who had everything our Chuck has PLUS the beautiful technique of VanDamme would be able to beat Sloppy Jalopy Chuck. And the answer is, I think so: all things being equal, better technique can only improve excellent execution. But now we're just asking for perfection, right?

I generally agree with the premise of this post and the more or less unanimous perspective of the posters: no one should ever feel ashamed to speak to a higher rank or that they do not "deserve" to be part of a conversation just because they aren't a black belt. That being said - just for the sake of having a nice discussion on the matter - let me offer a less politically-correct thought. I am a college professor, and I frequently get in my end-of-term evaluations that students' favorite part of my class is getting to give their own opinion (which is nice. A little weird - that their favorite part of learning is them talking - but still nice). Sometimes I'll get something less nice, like "the professor acts as though his opinion is more valid than mine." I generally get good evals so I don't let these things bother me, but it does make me think: why would you want to take a class from someone whose opinion isn't more valid than yours? That is, I think students want to immediately be treated as equals (not in the sense of "I'm a reasonably intelligent adult human being, too!" - of course they are that), but for myself - if I took, say, a physics course - I would sincerely hope the professor knew more about physics than I did. This doesn't mean I wouldn't ever enter a conversation with them about force or planetary motion, but I would be hesitant to offer them advice on understanding string theory or somesuch. So. To translate this into karate class: what kind of conversation are we having when an early-ranked student offers their thoughts? And how do they offer them? If we're talking about the interpretation of a form, or about sparring technique, the chances are that black belts actually will know more. They're supposed to! Right? Otherwise, what is there to look forward to, knowledge-wise, if an orange belt already knows as much as a black belt? Remember please before you snap front-kick me in the cyberjewels that I really do act in class with politeness and encouragement to all that wish to engage with me, and that I generally agree with the thrust of all y'all's position. I suppose my great wisdom here (har har) is that it's going to depend on a) the student doing the opinion-giving; b) the conversation being entered; and c) how they're entering the conversation. Which is not really any wisdom at all, I know. I guess I'm just thinking about how entitled students can sometimes be academically, but I don't run into this as much in the dojang - we have more rules governing conduct and mutual respect there than we do in the college classroom (which, in retrospect, is sad). Your thoughts?

Fantastic!! I don't think I've ever read an article about board breaking that states everything so clearly. I've always been a bit afraid of board breaking myself, because I've seen too many egotistical people attempt to break more than they ought to and injure themselves... so I've tended to never push my limits in breaking and always break no more than I'm sure I can. But I love the way you talk about the need to strike without hesitance - this is totally true and I always tell my students that if you break the object, you shouldn't really feel a thing... it's only when you don't break it that it hurts. Also, I love your reference to the line that "boards don't hit back"... I hear that all the time. But as you pointed out, physics shows that it does hit back, with equal and opposite force. Great point! If you don't object, I might print this article and have my students read it before breaking! Thank you for writing it! KyungYet

Midnight blue. Midnight BLUE!! for heaven's sake. Sorry.

Sorry I'm a few years late weighing in on this one - but I just joined. I enjoyed this article a lot and agreed with it as a whole. I feel the same way about my PhD (although as a rule, people with doctorates make significantly less effort to be or even appear humble than people with black belts!). Some of my colleagues pretend that they don't care and encourage the students to call them by their first names. But by God, I worked my booty off for my doctorate, and I have no problem taking pride in that achievement - I also think there is value in having students respect that particular accomplishment, as it is represents a place towards the end of the path they are currently on (much in the same way we have our students address our black belts by last name)(and I don't say "the end" of the path, because I like to think that education is a lifelong process). Speaking of which, just as a side note - the black belt is not the highest rank in all styles, as you said (just for trivia's sake - this in no way diminishes your point!): Tang Soo Do, for example, often uses the "midnight black belt" as its highest rank. This is because the old masters thought of black as a color to which "no other colors might be added," and wanted to avoid the thought that learning stopped at black belt. I love that symbolism and I sort of wish I had a midnight black belt because it sure sounds cool. My instructor used to always tell us that someone ought to know what belt we were based upon our performance, not the color around our waist. Whenever I'd visit a new studio, I'd always wait for the instructor to notice that I'd had prior experience and let them guess my rank. Most of the time, they wanted me to wear a white belt in their class (because it was a different style) and my ego had no problem with that. It makes me sad because martial arts have become so watered down nowadays: a new student of mine told me she had studied Tae Kwon Do and before she could tell me her rank, I told her I'd guess after class... I guessed she was middle ranked when she was actually a 2nd degree black belt. So much for my instructor's ideals - all I did was leave her quite miffed. But I still think he has it right. What purpose do belts serve? Largely motivation. I think most martial artists in today's world would quit if they trained for 2 years and never saw a change in their status! As a result, systems that began with a few belts now have many (including camouflage , for goodness' sake!). The more milestones, the more motivation, I suppose the thought process goes. I think it can be taken too far, but I understand the reasoning behind it. Finally, an earlier poster mentioned something about an interpretation of the belts which they had thought interesting: this comes from a different style (mine, Tang Soo Do), but our founder Hwang Kee delineated it as follows: White belt symbolizes winter: a barren, empty field blanketed in anonymous sameness. White belts begin as an empty slate. Green belt symbolizes spring: as new shoots push through the snow, a new season begins. Green belts are just awakening to their knowledge of the martial arts. Red belt symbolizes summer: the ripening of our abilities. The spring blossoms have flowered and students are nearing their potential. Midnight Blue belt symbolizes fall and the maturation of our skills. ... I always thought that was pretty cool. Because all the other belts (purple, orange, blue) were added later as incentives, no traditional symbolism there. We'll have to make it up, haha. Anyway: thanks for this. I love reading about and thinking about this kind of stuff!

Really. I forgot how nice it felt to hear stories from martial artists, to share ideas with martial artists, to debate technique with martial artists, and just to be part of a community of martial artists! I'm very excited to be here. I won three free lessons at a Chuck Norris studio in 1984 (I was 11 - there, I've dated myself), and thus began my love affair with the martial arts. I trained and instructed Tang Soo Do continuously until I was in my 20s, but during college I was only able to work out sporadically. Grad school was even worse - I was forced to take Shotokan... just kidding, Shotos. It was great practice (TSD is basically Korean Shotokan, right?) and I gained a lot of respect for the speed and power that can be generated from nothing but a stepping high punch. I gained a bunch of weight trying to finish my PhD (quick, cheap meals and writing into the wee hours of the night were not conducive to physical fitness!) and didn't get back into training until about two years ago. Now I'm finally in shape once again and have my very own martial arts program at the University I teach at, and I'm getting a new generation of kids interested in the martial arts! I loved teaching children, but it's super-rewarding to teach college kids and help them to learn confidence, respect, and discipline (as well as self-defense!). I'm very lucky and grateful. But still it's you guys I need. These kids are just cute little newbies and I'm the only black belt around. Heck... I'M still learning: there's a lot I don't know about running a school on my own, and I get awful tired of my own teaching techniques. I'm really excited to share the 25 years of knowledge I've accumulated and benefit from the collective knowledge of the talented folks here at KarateForums.com! Kamsahamnida! [Thank you!] KyungYet