TangSooGuy

It really does depend on the person. I know people who have left for ten years and have come back to have a whole new level of committment to their training. This isn't the norm though. In my experience, about 80% of all people who "take a break" for more than a month never come back again. You are the parent, here. If you feel that training is worthwhile, and is doing them good, make them go. I'm consistently surprised how many parents say "I can't make them do it." Why not? Can you make them get up and go to school? Brush their teeth? Do their homework? Then you can make them train too, if you see value in it. That said, as others have pointed out, training is NOT for everyone. If it starts to lose value to you and to them, or it becomes so disruptive to your life that you can't see yourself forcing it, find something else. I had two kids whose mom made them come time after time, even though they didn't want to. Those kids are now both in my advanced class, and one of them is working harder than he ever has at anything. It dpends on the value you see. You CAN make tem go if there is value in it. Or you can let them quit. But the decision as to what is bestfor them is yours.

I've done a lot of blindfolded/ sightless training I think a good place to start is your forms/kata. A lot less risk of injuring anyone or injuring yourself. It will help you understand how much control you have over your own body, and will help you undertand how much you rely on your eyes to be in tune with your surroundings. From there I'd suggest moving on to a heavy bag. Start at a maximum of half speed/ half power and work up from there until you have a general idea of where the bag is and can hit it with the force you want to and with the technique you want to most of the time. After that, try sparring, but again a maximum of half speed/ half power to start. Generally, you being blindfolded, are more likely to hurt someone else at this stage than they are to hurt you. Work with different scnearios, see how well you can defend yourself from strikes, grabs, takedowns, etc. while blindfolded. Once you get comfortable with all that, add a second attacker. For my 3rd Dan pretest, I had to spar with two other people while blindfolded, and break with a jump spinning kick while blindfolded. Between 3rd and 4th Dan, I spen a lot more time working on that, because atthe time I remember it being very difficult. You have to use your ears and touch to get a full picture in your mind of where the attackers are, how they are standing, what they are doing, etc. If you do breaking, I suggest saving blindfolded breaking until you've done a lot of other blindfolded training. You can hurt yourself and holders if you aren't prepared. It is a good feeling to be able to hit a target with full power without having to see it, though.

I found that honestly, most doctors are idiots when it comes to martial arts. I've seen kids and adults alike suffer from injuries, chronic and otherwise, and the doctors' advice is invariably the same: stop taking karate. There's no reason you should have to quit doing something you love. You should be able to work with your instructor to find ways of training that won't take such a toll on you. The training may not be the same, but you can ALWAYS work with and around your limitations in the martial arts.

Master Beam is great too, and as traditional as they get, but due to some health issues, his school is mostly being taught by one of his highest ranking black belts, I think. Either Master Beam or Master Mimidis could put you on a good track.

Depends what your interested in, I guess....If you have any interest in TSD whatsoever, check out Mimidis Karate. Master Mimidis is a great guy, and a great teacher, and his dojang is pretty darn nice as well. https://www.mimidiskarate.com

The whole "walk away" thing doesn't always fit in with the true spirit of the martial arts. You should NEVER let anyone damage your spirit. If it's a one time thing, you can usually walk away, but if it is chronic, you need to stand up for yourself. I learned that lesson the hard way. I had a guy in high school constantly on me, every day. Finally one day I grabbed him by the troat and put him up against the wall. I shouldn't have waited so long. That was all it required, and the kid never bothered me again. That was many years ago, and I'd like to think now that I could have stood up for myself differently, but physical confrontation is sometimes necessary, and it is one of the reasons we learn what we do. It's actually what I was saying about balancing my ego. As a kid , I didn't have enough. Through my training, I learned when it was necessary to stand up for myself, and I did so. My ego developed to something healthy by growing. Other people have too much ego. They go around flaunting it, or even looking down on others. These people need some of their ego removed...

Oh I'm not saying you shouldn't work with a student. I wholeheartedly agree that as long as they are willing to work some kind of arrangement out, you need to work with them. It's the ones that can't be bothered to sweep a floor, but expect you to invest yourself into teaching them that get to me....

Don't treat him any differently than you would any other person, just because he's "special". I'mnot suggesting you be rude to him, but I wouldn't suggest you be rude to anyone. As for him functioning on the level of a child emotionally, it doesn't matter. You shouldn't be approaching the problem emotionally, anyway. I still say go to your instructor. If you want to handle it yourself though, just explain to him rationally what the problem is. Don't make threats, just let him know. If it doesn't stop, you really need to escalate it to someone with a higher position of authority.

It also never ceases to amaze me how many people complain about the cost of training, saying they can't be expected to sacrifice everything just so they can train, but then turn around and expect instructors to sacrifice everything for them. IN the "old days" when people asked "will you train me?" the answer was always no. Only those who would continue to ask in the face of several "nos" were taken as students... I'm not saying this is a good way of doing things today...but it amazes me at the indignation people get when an instructor tells them "no" these days....

Well, I'm speaking in the role of an instructor, and I'd rather my students come to me. It's just that I've seen situations like this escalate and cause more problems when people try to handle it on their own. I also got the impression that this was a BIG problem, not something small that could be handled quickly and easily. As an instructor, I'd probably talk to both individuals privately first, and with the "problem" individual, I'd say that I had noticed the problem myself...leaving any issue of blame out of it. If that didn't work, I'd talk to both of them together, and if we couldn't come up with a solution, I'd put policies into place that would keep the two of them apart as much as possible, whether that be assigning positions for them to line up, scheduling different classes, assigning partners, whatever. From there I'd work on bringing thetwo of you together again in controlled situations, as eventually if you were both training in my studio, you'd have to learn how to deal with one another. If it is something that can be handled with a quick word, then by all means do so, but if you think that would only escalate the problem, then I still advocate going to your instructor.

I agreee with a lot of what's been said here. I would never allow a student to train entirely for free. There are people out there that will try to put this past you, too. I has a guy once that told me his son could only train for three classes in a particular month due to other sports, so was it okay if he trained for free that month...the answer was an emphatic no. Granted, this isn't really the situation that you are talking about, but there are people who wil give you sob stories about how they can't afford it, too. You have to differentiate between those who can't afford it and those who just don't want to pay. For those who really can't afford it, I will never turn you away, but you have to do something in return, whether it be organizing events, cleaning the studio, helping to teach, etc. The only thing you do by giving away lessons for free is foster resentment in your paying students (who WILL find out), and devalue what you are giving to the "free" student.

When all else fails, talk to your instructor. I know you may want to talk to this student directly, but in the end, that may just disrupt your studio and your training even more. Hopefully your instructor will be able to put some things into place that will calm the situation, or he may ave to get the two of you together privately and mediate. Whether or not he wants it to be, this is one of the things your instructor is there for. Just make sure you take time to approach him calmly about it, preferably by making an appointment to see him privately about it. Approach it calmly and rationally, and he should be able to help you all come up with a solution together.

I currently run a club out of a YMCA that is very small overall (for a Y), and run my classes out of a small room there. I currently have about 35 students and don't do any real advertising. The YMCA is moving into a brand new facility next year, and I may have the opportunity to move into the existing building, which already has locker rooms, office space, the small room I teach in, a main floor, and a weight room. 5,000 square feet in all. It is in a relatively high traffic location, and would need almost no renovation. I could get this space for 2900/month. Most commercial locations of that size in the same area would go for twice that, at least. I would also be continuing the YMCA program at the new facility, which I anticipate bringing in around $1000/month, possibly more. I have around $25K in capital available, and should have more by next year. Is this a worthwhile endeavor in your opinion? I'm leaning toward yes, but I may have to go into debt initially until the student numbers pick up. I also realize I'd need to put a marketing campaign together, as I rely solely on the YMCA and word of mouth at the moment. Just curious how this situation sounds to people who have already done it.

It depends what I'm teaching, why I'm teaching, and who I'm teaching, but it ranges anywhere from tournament point sparring when my students want to go to tournaments to the range of "Rules? What Rules? where almost anything is allowed, including knees, elbows, takedowns, etc... I don't start beginners at that level, but I expect advanced students to be able to spar that way. Pretty much the same as what JaseP and EternalRage have posted already, really...

Well, to give a slightly different take on things: I was always the introverted, shy, even geeky wallflower type as a kid. So, I'd say martial arts helped me develop my ego into something healthier. It helped me to increase my slef-confidence and self-worth. It helped me to know when to be outgoing, when to stand up for myself, etc. My ego didn't grow to monster proportions or anything liek that. Martial arts is very much about balance, and I think that ego is one of the things it balances. If you don't have enough of it, MA training helps you develop it. If you have too much, MA training knocks it out of you.

Well, I am hoping to start a commercial, professional studio one day in the not too distant future, and I've already decided on charging between $85-100 per month. Rent is a huge factor, for one thing. The better the facility/location/etc...the more an instructor has to charge. I also like to break it down hourly. If you only attended 3 classes a week, at one hour each, that's 12 hours per month. Break it down and you are paying: at $85/month: about $7.08 an hour at $95/month: about $7.92 an hour at $100/month: about $8.33 an hour If you attend more classes, it's even less per hour. I don't know many full time professionals who think their time is only worth that much, and I know people who pay teenage babysitters more than that per hour...yet they'll complain about paying it for martial arts. I have no problem charging those prices. It is more than justifiable.

This is actually one of the reasons I like be ing part of a large governing organization. If you have been training consistently without a gap, and you change schools, your rank is prtected, period. It's a different story if there has been an extensive gap in training, but not if you've been training consistently. That said, it is the instructor's discretion where to start people who have trained in other organizations, and most will start over at white belt,and will then be tested to the appropriate rank.

I prefer white, and I consider keeping the uniform clean as much a part of the student's training as teh physical training itself. I also prefer traditional white because of uniformity and lack of distraction, as has been stated already. I don't mind people who use other colors, it's just not for me.

After reading some of what others have said...I want to quantify a few things. I definitely am slower than I was at 18-21...but I started training when I was 10 years old. So I had already been training for 8 years when I was 18. Someone who starts training later in life may actually see marked increases in speed and flexibility. I can still do a split all the way with some stretching, but when I was 18, I could do full splits cold. I could put my ankles behind my neck. I could stand with by back to a wall and have someone push my leg up until my toes touched the wall over my shoulder. I actually used to do a break that way... Most "average" people who look at me now say wow, you're really flexible...and I can attribute that directly to my training, but it's still a marked decrease from where I once was. Also, I must include that I'm actually MUCH stronger now than when I was 18...something I also attribute to training. I'm not huge by any means, but I am carrying a lot more muscle mass. That is one area I'd say I've actually seen a marked increase in over the years. I'm not sure what to attribute being slower to, but I am slowER. Again, that doesn't mean slow. I can still spar most of my students at half speed without them giving me difficulty. I know there are techniques that used to be faster than they are now though. However, all that said, without training, I'd be twice as slow, twice as fat, half as strong, and half as flexible. I applaud those of you who say you are faster and more flexible than you were in your teens. I'm just not sure it's physically possible for me to be more flexible than I was in my teens, and I think some of the "slowing down" comes from that.

I'm not 35 yet, so maybe I' don't fit what you're looking for, but i am 31 and have been training for 20+ years, so I'll give you a taste of how I feel. I'm not anywhere near as fast as I was when I was 16, or 18. I have aches and pains now that I never had before. I'm also not nearly as flexible. It's not that i don't train just as hard, and even harder at times, it's just the nature of getting older. However, I have a MUCH deeper understanding than I did then, and am a much better martial artist. If there were a fight between the me of 16-18 and the me of now, the "now" me would definitely win, despite being slower, less flexible, and hurting more.

31 and still kicking.... I actually have belts older than some of you youngsters.... But everyone has to start their quest somewhere. One thing I'd warn the young ones about. Don't automatically take everything you read at face value, no matter who posts it. (yes, that includes me) Always research stuff on your own as well, and form your own decisions on who you agree with.

Thanks Patrick... and tsdshep, I'm not offended in the least. Sorry if it came out that way. I was just curious about your exposure to the association. Politics always interest me to a degree, in that I'm always curious what "outsiders" think of other associations. I happen to think the benefits of belonging to a good association outweigh the pitfalls, but there are a lot of bad points as well. I just have a theory that the bad gets exposed more than the good, in pretty much every association, and I'm trying to figure out how to get the "good" out there a little more...

This post was originally published as an article in a dedicated KarateForums.com Articles section, which is no longer online. After the section was closed, this article was most to the most appropriate forum in our community. As it often does, recently the question "what is a master?" came up on these forums. This article is primarily aimed at a World Tang Soo Do Association audience, but it details some of my journey to master's rank and I hope to share it with everyone, in the hopes that you can take something away from it, even if it is only something small. Thank you. On Becoming a Master I look at the belt I wear now, with its' red stripe running down the middle and from time to time, I must admit, I still think, "I'm a master? Me?" There are times that I just can't believe it's really true, that there still must be more testing to undertake, that I just haven't earned it yet. You see, I don't really feel that I've mastered it yet. There's still far too much to learn. It's hard for me to believe that I've really come this far, even though it's easy to see that there is still much further for me to go. We are told as beginners, and even as black belts, that the master's belt symbolizes our "ultimate goal" in Tang Soo Do. I've come to realize, though, that the belt really is just that: a symbol of the goal and not the goal itself. Obtaining this rank is a great honor and I feel incredible to have achieved it, but my task is not over and my ultimate goal is still ahead of me. Before we go forward, though, perhaps it's best that we travel back a bit, to see how I, like so many before me, became a master. The testing process for master's rank in the World Tang Soo Do Association is a minimum three-year process. I stress the word process in that, because it is more a process than it is a test. It is a process of learning, a process of sharing, a process of changing and most of all, perhaps, a process of becoming. I would like to share with you a few of the feelings and experiences I had during this process, in the hopes that it may in some way help you in your own or, for those who have been through it already, to remind you that what you have done has tremendous value and what you are continuing to do helps each new generation take a step closer to becoming masters themselves. I ask you to forgive me now, for this will be a long read, but the process itself was not a short one and cannot be distilled down to a few sentences or paragraphs. I'm not even sure how to put into words the experience that was my first year at the Master's Clinic, but I will do the best I can. Up to that point, I had been a Sam Dan in Region 8 for eight years. I had taught many classes for my instructor, had been a conductor at Gup tests and regional black belt tests, had been on the examiners' panel for these tests, had taught at clinics and had trained under some of the most senior masters in our association. Naturally, I thought I was ready. I tried not to form any expectations, but found myself expecting certain things nonetheless. When I got there, though, I realized that I really wasn't prepared. It was more than simply training under the masters in our association; it was also training WITH them. Perhaps my most erroneous expectation was that I was there to be ground down, to be driven, shaped, molded and if necessary beaten into becoming a master. This couldn't be farther from the truth. I would later learn that the becoming process was mostly up to me at this point and the masters were there to help me find the master in myself, to help me become a master and not to make me into one. The overwhelming feeling of camaraderie and the desire the masters expressed to help me was the biggest shock to me. In retrospect, it shouldn't have been. Our association has always been a family and never have I felt this feeling more than I did among the masters. The difference now was that instead of being the fathers and mothers they had been in the past, the masters were now welcoming me as older brothers and sisters. I was the proverbial deer in headlights, amazed at the warmth and genuine desire to help that was all around me. Upon later reflection, I came to realize that this is how it must be. To become a black belt, I had to have my rough edges knocked off, to be nudged onto the right path from time to time and to be forcibly corrected when I took the wrong step - all for my own protection. I was a child then, but I had grown since. Now the choices were laid out before me and I was the one that had to choose my own path. The masters weren't there to force me down one path or another at this point, but were instead there to offer their advice and let me make my own choice. From that point on, I trained. I trained among the other candidates under the guidance of Master Britt and I trained among the other masters under the guidance of Grandmaster Shin. In all honesty, the test itself was a blur. I was still caught in the headlights and by that point I was like a piece of driftwood, caught in the tides and being carried along wherever the waves would take me. Little did I know then that the becoming process had begun and that if I was a piece of driftwood when I left that year, I would become a boat over the next year, plotting my own course in the ocean and beginning to see the first glimpses of land ahead. Over the next year, many things happened that would change me. I started my own studio shortly after returning from the first Master's Clinic and this was one of the best things I could ever have done. I had taught classes for my instructor in the past so many times that the act of teaching a class itself came easily, but I began to learn that teaching a class is in no way the same as running a studio, even a small one. Never before had the development of the students rested so squarely on my shoulders and never before had I been so wholly involved and attached to the teaching process. Each new accomplishment of a student was my own success and with each setback my students experienced, I shared their frustration, while trying to instill optimism as well. I found myself learning as much as (and in some ways maybe more than) they learned from me. Things began to "click" in ways they never had before. I had been told that this would happen, but I'm not sure I believed it until it actually began to occur. The "hows" had been present before: "How do I do this combination?", How do I hold my hands?", etc.; but I began to find that the "whys" were revealing themselves as well. Now when students asked why the combination would be done or why the hands were held a certain way, I began to have answers. I was beginning to understand and my process of becoming was taking place. I also spent that year writing my thesis, on the need and function of testing in the martial arts, but to discuss that experience fully would be another article all by itself. Let me just say that I learned, in the process of writing that thesis, that every test we take has a well thought out structure, has definite meaning and fulfills a need in helping us become something that we had not been before the test itself. My second year at the Master's Clinic was much different than the first. I was no longer the deer in headlights that I had been in the first year. It was not so much that the experience itself had changed, but that I had changed. I was truly able to empty my cup in my second year and came with no expectations other than that I would do whatever was asked of me, that I would attempt to help the candidates who were there for their first year, experiencing the deer in headlights feeling that I had felt and that I would learn, change, grow and continue my process of becoming. A tremendous feeling of calmness and serenity came over me. Many times other candidates asked me how I could be so calm before the test. Wasn't I nervous? Wasn't I worried? Honestly, I can say that I wasn't. I hope this does not come across as arrogance, but I felt ready. I felt prepared. I had made a choice, and that choice was that I would be a master, whatever it took and no matter how long it took. I would simply do whatever was asked of me. If I was asked to return again for another year and another and another, I would. Once I had made this decision, there was really no reason to be nervous. Master Britt perhaps said it best when speaking to the candidates that year. He told us that passing the test shouldn't be our primary focus. We were there to be tested, yes, but more than anything, we were there to learn and to change and that we shouldn't be afraid of that change. It would take a different form and come in a different amount of time for all of us, but it would happen and trying to force it to happen would only make it take longer. And if it did take longer, did it really matter? Was there somewhere else we planned on being the following year, even if we did pass? I had made the choice to accept the change as it came, however long it took. In the past, I know I had tried to force the change when I wasn't yet ready for it and it had kept me from allowing it to happen naturally. Once I made the choice to let it happen on its own, I was amazed at how quickly it came. The test that year was especially difficult: physically, mentally and spiritually. I came out of it a better and different person, though. Every year before the test, Master Britt gathers the candidates together and has a discussion that prepares them for the upcoming test. He always seems to know just how to do it, just what needs to be said and just what that particular group of candidates needs. He told us to leave everything out there on the floor that year and at the time, I was worried that maybe I had been too calm, that maybe I wouldn't be able to get fired up enough to put everything into the test. At that point, though, Master Britt let out one of the most tremendous ki haps I have ever heard. I was sitting across the room from him at the time, but I didn't only hear that ki hap, I felt it. I felt it reverberate in my chest the way you feel the bass in your car radio when it is turned up all the way. It made me smile and I knew at that point that I would be able to leave everything out there on the testing floor. It was a special night for us all, as Master Britt would be down the hall, testing for his sixth Dan and I knew from that ki hap that he was ready to go as well. I can honestly say that I did leave behind everything I had in me in that room and when the test was over, I was physically shaking, but I felt unbelievably good at the same time. After wards, as we returned to the hotel to eat and socialize a bit before heading off to bed, a few of the other candidates remarked that I had looked different that year. At the time, I wasn't quite sure what to say. I knew it was meant as a compliment and I was flattered to think that the changes that I knew were taking place were visible to others, but at that point all I could tell them was that I had felt different. I hope if they read this, they can see what I meant. Shortly after the clinic that year, I received a letter from Kwan Chang Nim, indicating that I had completed the requirements for 4th Dan instructor and would be promoted at the next regional championship. It was an amazing feeling, but there was a part of me that couldn't believe it. Surely it couldn't have happened already. I must have to go back and do it again, right? Gradually it sunk in that it was, in fact, happening. The change was taking place; the becoming was in a stage now where I couldn't turn back if I had wanted to. The "whys" began to come even more readily over the next year and things continued to click into place, as they never had before. There were times when I wanted to share every discovery I was making with my students and even times that I tried, only to see their blank stares looking back at me. I began to realize that all the times I just wasn't getting what my own instructors tried to show me were being reflected back at me and was reminded that our curriculum has been very well thought out and that "do not be overly ambitious" applies to instructors as well as students. My third year at the Master's Clinic was just this past year (2004 as I write this) and in some ways it seems like just yesterday, while at other times, it seems to be almost a lifetime ago. Once again it was different and again not so much because the events were different, but because I had changed and my position relative to the events of the clinic had changed. I was now a Sah Dan instructor. I was no longer a part of the candidates' group, but I had not yet become a master, either. Honestly, this was a bit uncomfortable at first, but as my process of becoming a master continued, I began to realize that this position offered me a unique opportunity to view things differently. It was a view from the middle, so to speak. I found that there were many new candidates this year and some of them were beginning to ask me questions, were seeking my advice and were looking to me for help when they weren't sure where to go or what came next. I was beginning to take the role of the older brother to them and I tried to do the best I could to help. At the same time, I was now among the masters. There was no specialized training this year to prepare me for the test, no private 4th Dan instructors training sessions planned out. It was up to all the new 4th Dan instructors to make our own decisions on what sessions we would take, on how we would prepare for our test and to form our own impromptu preparation sessions when time allowed. To be honest, I wasn't even sure that I was testing for master until lunch that day, when Master Beaudoin came to my table and told me, "You're going to the big show tonight." Up to that point, I had been enjoying the training, the incredible camaraderie and just the overall great feeling that came with being among the masters. It all came together at that point though. Tonight was the night. I was testing for master's rank. There had been a small pang of jealousy in me, I'll admit, as I saw the candidates go off to their own special training sessions and preparation periods for the test that night. At the same time, though, I realized that once again the change in me was taking place and I was once again on my way to becoming someone new. Not until the test itself did this change fully take root in me. Not only did I test, but I also had the incredible experience of watching those who were already masters test for the higher ranks of mastery. It was here that I began to realize that I did not need to be jealous of the candidates for their specialized training. I was part of another group now and my training with the masters had been my preparation for this test all along. There is an old saying: "In a beginner's mind, there are many possibilities. In an expert's mind, there are few." At first glance, this didn't make sense to me as a martial artist. Aren't we taught that we need to be open to all the possibilities? That is exactly what the saying means, though. When we become "experts" at something, we often fall into the trap of believing we know how things should be done and often believe that our way is the one true way. This limits us, though. We need to be able to always look at things as a beginner does and this is the ultimate purpose of the Master's Clinic. Kwan Chang Nim tells the masters that they will train as white belts again and that is what happens. He takes a group of experts and helps them to see the possibilities as beginners do. This became readily apparent to me as I watched the higher ranking masters test for 5th and 6th Dan. I was becoming a master, yes, but they were showing me that I still had much more to learn and that there were still possibilities I had not even considered. The testing panel showed me this as well, as they challenged us to create our own one step techniques and to chain one steps together. I was honored to be a part of this group and to share in their experiences. As I tested with the masters, a feeling of belonging came over me. To those that were on the floor, I was not an outsider trying to get in. I was one of them and although we may have been testing for different levels, we were all testing together. We were one group, supporting one another in a common goal. While we were one group, there were points where the testing had to be separated for reasons of space and different requirements for different ranks. I was amazed at the levels of skill that were demonstrated and at the incredible positive energy filling the room. I was especially honored at being able to watch Masters Sharpe and Khan test for 6th Dan. Seeing their ability laid out before me showed me once again how much more there was to learn and rekindled in me a desire to train even harder, to learn and research new things and to share whatever I could with others. I am beginning to see now, that at each major stage of our Tang Soo Do development, a choice needs to be made and a change needs to take place. There are many analogies that have been used to describe this process, but I look at it in terms of a book of knowledge. As a Gup student, you are learning to read. First you learn the alphabet, then words and then sentences. Gradually these sentences begin to form paragraphs, pages and chapters in the larger book of knowledge. It is not until Cho Dan Bo, though, that the student begins to arrange the pages and chapters into a meaningful form. Once the student has been awarded a black belt, the book has taken final form, but it is only then that the student begins to read it. Unfortunately for some, it can sometimes be a difficult book to "get into", and may, at times, be quite hard to comprehend. Those black belts who encounter this confusion may choose put the book aside and rather than try to read it again, will complain instead that there aren't any new chapters being added. These students often quit, believing that having the book was enough, even though they really have not yet really tried to read it. For those who are willing to tough it out, though and re-read the parts that were once confusing, the book becomes a much better and much more enjoyable read. As they become E Dans and Sam Dans, they find that there is a desire to share this book of knowledge with others and begin to show the chapters they have read to others, while continuing to read new chapters themselves. Sometimes this, too, becomes frustrating, as trying to balance the reading and the sharing can be very difficult. Some will delve deep into the book of knowledge, but will keep the information to themselves, missing the opportunity to share with others. Others will spend so much time sharing what they have read that they will never turn back to the book to finish it. Only those who do both will find themselves becoming masters. For if reading the book defines the process of moving through the Yu Dan Ja ranks of black belt, then becoming a master can be defined by finishing that book, only to look up from the final page to realize that there is an entire library surrounding you, with new books to read and share, while at the same time being handed a pen and paper and being shown that it is time to begin writing your own book as well. In the end, I did become a master. I was promoted at the 2004 World Championship in Orlando, Florida. Having Kwan Chang Nim tie my master's belt around my waist and kneeling to take the master's oath in front of so many association members, along with thousands of spectators and many of my own family members, will remain one of the greatest experiences in my life. I have finished one book, but I have only just entered the lobby of a library of books that could never be read in one person's lifetime. I must now choose which books I will read and share with others and must begin writing my own story as well. I am honored, beyond my ability to express here, to have become part of the masters' community in the World Tang Soo Do Association. I am committed to honoring my oath and can only hope that one day I will be able to help others in this process of becoming a master. In closing, I must beg your indulgence, for I did not get here myself and there are many that I must thank for their help along the way. First, I must thank Grandmaster Shin, for it is his vision that has created this association so filled with brotherhood and it is under his guidance that I hope to continue growing as a master. I must thank Master Vaughn, my instructor, for the many, many hours, days, months and years he has put into my development as a martial artist and for showing me that we do not teach black belts, we teach teachers and only by doing so can we make our art grow. I thank Master Britt for his selflessness in preparing the master's candidates each year. It helped me more than I can say. I thank every instructor who taught me directly over the years at one point or another: Master Gordon, Master Kaye, Master Homschek, Master Causerano and Master Beam, all of whom either taught at Master Vaughn's dojang for an extended period or whose dojang I visited to train in directly for an extended period of time. I thank Master David Roberts and Mr. Adam White, the only two active students left with whom I started my Tang Soo Do training under Master Vaughn, almost 20 years ago. Thank you to all the other masters in Region 8 and beyond, who have taught me at special classes and clinics over the years. I would name you all, but at one point or another, every master I have met has had a direct impact on my life and to list every one would take up an entire page itself. I thank my fellow candidates and instructors, both those who have become masters and those still on their way, for you have all helped me get to where I am now. I thank my students, for I have learned as much from you as you have from me. I thank my family, especially my mother and father for always allowing me to train, for taking me to classes, tournaments and clinics when I was too young to drive myself and for always allowing me to follow this path. Finally, I must thank my wife, for always believing in me, for always doing the right thing, even when it was hard, for selflessly teaching classes when I could not be there and for supporting me in every endeavor. She is truly my hero. So, while I have become a master in the World Tang Soo Do Association, I have also become a beginner. In our larger community,I strive to be a leader, yet I know that in the masters' community, I am a child yet again, albeit one with choices to make. I have come to know that there will always be another book to read and there will always be another chapter left to write, so long as I live. I only hope that in writing this chapter, I can help others to take a step closer to becoming masters and that in reading it, you choose to take your next step forward and not back.

If you want to talk true "old school", I'll agree you can't beat the likes of Karate Champ or Yie Ar Kung Fu.

My wife is a 2nd Dan...we run a school together. I actually met her in the martial arts club in college.