The Karate Kid

Well not really.  Actually Nolan is learning Taekwondo.  There is not an enormous town recreation department here in Hoi An.  Most kids seem to go to school for sport and fun and take Sundays off to jump on the Borch couch.  There is no Saturday morning soccer, no after-school art class, and no early morning reading club.  Generally our recreation takes the form of biking to the beach and spending the day swimming and playing in the sand.  So, when Nolan discovered that there was a community Taekwondo class, he was more than enthusiastic to get started.

He originally joined up with a few other friends (safety in numbers) and got used to the routine.  The class is held outdoors in a courtyard at the university every night except Sunday (that's still reserved for jumping on our couch).  The number of people participating varies from 20-40 on any given night, and the students range in age from about 9-20.  Best of all, it's free!  Nolan is definitely on the small and young side, but he makes up for it with his enthusiasm.

The class is, of course, taught in Vietnamese.  For the past two weeks Nolan has been the only non-Vietnamese kid there.  He just goes with the flow, imitates everyone else and keeps me doubled over with laughter watching him mimic everything and understand nothing. I can't fathom that this is the child who dropped out of kindergarten Taekwondo last year after one lesson because he was just too shy.  Now he's surrounded by teenagers who don't speak his language, and he's kicking and punching his heart out.  The difference desperation (and a year) can make...

I assumed that there was probably some deep element of Taekwondo philosophy that was lost in the language barrier.  I imagined there was some Zen principle of self-defense and humility associated with this practice.  I figured the instructor was preaching self-restraint while teaching his pupils to break someone's arm.  I can make up any story I want when I can't understand a thing.  When I want to know the truth, I turn to the omniscient power of Wikipedia.  I searched "Taekwondo" tonight to determine the gentler aspects of the art so I could fill in the holes for Nolan.  This is what I found:  taekwondo may be loosely translated as "the art of the foot and fist" or "the art of kicking and punching."  

No deep Buddhist thoughts. No higher purpose.  No attempt to qualify the use of force.  Nope. Just "the art of kicking and punching."  It's a six-year-old's dream.  Kick and punch, punch and kick, squeeze someone's pressure point and twist someone's arm.  So much for providing some enlightenment for my son.  I'll have to go back to just being grateful for an organized recreational opportunity where he's immersed in Vietnamese culture and language and ignore the fact that he is firmly intent on kicking someone's butt.