Kung Fu

Ian has wanted to learn some type of martial art for a couple of years. I have no idea why, except that maybe it's a cool thing to do. Thinking this could serve many purposes (i.e., teach him a form of self-defense for when the bullies decide he is an easy target, boost his confidence, give him an outlet for his aggression), Steve and I enrolled him in Kung Fu San Soo last fall.

Ian was thrilled. He came home from each class wanting to show me what he had learned. Steve also attended and took notes from his seat so he could help Ian practice at home. Seeing them work together on the living room floor was the greatest. Even Ainsley got into the picture when she could.

After the first session ended, Steve decided to take the class too. Ian was soon promoted to yellow belt and was extremely proud of this achievement. I was amazed at his ability to concentrate on something so complex late in the day when he is usually at his worst (o.k., I admit it: we gave him Ritalin to control his ADHD during the class, and I am not ashamed of that. Tom Cruise can go #@$% himself. If one of his kids had ADHD, he'd hire somebody else to deal with it and go make a movie. He's a complete ass.) But I digress.

Father and son continued to attend classes twice a week, and began to bond in a way that made my heart melt. We bought mats to place in our unfurnished formal living room. The two practiced the Base Eight and Battle Form 34 (which I affectionately call "Battlestar Galactica"), with Ainsley standing nearby doing kicks and shouting "hi-yah!"

When Ian was promoted to Green Belt, it was a solemn moment for him. He realized it was a tremendous achievement, yet he didn't want to tell anyone. It was as if sharing the news would break the magic spell and it would no longer be true.

Ainsley and I attended the ceremony. She was as thrilled for him as I was. She also felt that his promotion gave her the opportunity to steal his old uniform and join the class. In fact, ever since then she has tried desperately to sneak her way onto the mats to work out with the big kids. Although emulating her brother in this endeavor is something I don't mind at all, I would prefer that she wait a couple more years before she learns how to kick ass.

Last week Ainsley decided she had waited long enough. As Ian was getting ready to put on his uniform for class, she grabbed it from him and took off running. She hid in my bedroom. When she emerged, she was wearing the pants with the legs dragging under her feet. The jacket was on upside down, although her arms were where they belonged. The green sash was draped over her head. She came bounding out to the living room and announced:

Ta da! I have a uniform. Now Sifu will let me take Kung Fu!

And given his absolute adoration of her cutitude, I'm sure he would let her in the class - if she weren't such a disruption.

Over the last few weeks, as I have sat along the sidelines watching my son and trying to keep his wiggly sister quiet, it has become clear that Ian is often lost. His form seems weak to me, and he does not appear as confident as the other kids his age who battle around him. He often has difficulty paying attention, and I am scared to death he is going to get hurt.

But when he watches the older students demonstrate their skills, he sees himself as he hopes to one day be.

Mom, I want to earn my brown belt.

He told me after wearing his new greenbelt uniform for the first time. My heart broke just a little, because, at the moment, I didn't see that happening.

Honey, Daddy and I will help you get there, if that is what you want.

I replied. And we will.

When people ask him what he wants to be when he grows up, he always says he wants to be a Kung Fu teacher. With that kind of vision, how can I let my own perceptions derail his plan? He believes this is his future, at least for now.

Maybe with a little one-on-one coaching he can get there. The class is large enough that it would be easy for him to get lost in the sensory stimuli around him. Eliminate that distraction, and we may have a master before us.

Steve has felt such a connection to this art form, that he had the Chinese symbols for its name tattooed on his right arm. Now, Ian wants one too, but that doesn't surprise me in the least. I free-handed the characters on his arm a couple of days ago. Then he wanted a dragon on the other arm.

Mentally, he is really into this. Who knows? Maybe when he seems to be daydreaming, he is actually visualizing himself doing the forms perfectly. If the mind is in the right place, the body will follow.