“Punch me in the face,” I instruct, as Jolie’s chubby face splits into a grin and she giggles. Jolie is three and one of the Little Ninjas I teach at my taekwondo dojo three times a week. I am the only female instructor, and the girls, especially, enjoy being in my group. At first, I was disappointed that my parents pulled me out of dance classes to start taekwondo in third grade. I begrudgingly attended classes, struggling to see the value in the extracurricular. But as I progressed, I realized how taekwondo was transforming my life, challenging me physically and mentally, and giving me the confidence that comes from knowing that you have overcome obstacles. Taekwondo is not just about being able to punch or kick your way out of problems; it is about expanding your mindset and believing in yourself. At the end of most classes, we sit around the main instructor and listen to a story that revolves around one of the five tenets of taekwondo: courtesy, integrity, perseverance, self-control, and indomitable spirit. Now, years later, and as a Second-Degree Black Belt, I get to teach young students these same principles that shaped me, and I have a role in promoting positive thinking in the younger students. The curriculum teaches us to think about mindset and gratitude, and each belt has a qualification that requires a mental challenge. Even the Little Ninjas learn the three rules of taekwondo on their very first day: “Focus your eyes; focus your mind; focus your body.” A gentle reminder to one of my Little Ninjas to “focus their body” will help stop rambunctious toddlers from running in circles, allowing them to “focus their mind” on the task at hand. Teaching taekwondo has revealed a passion for teaching children. I have learned how to diffuse emotional situations, such as when a young child starts crying at the start of class when their parent drops them off. I have also learned how to use positive reinforcement to encourage the students. I am amazed by how differently the younger students process information and respond to instruction. They get distracted easily, making teaching a larger group of students all the more challenging as I attempt to capture the attention of two dozen toddlers. Teaching the older children comes with its own set of challenges. Although originally hired to teach the Little Ninjas, I soon began assisting with the older students because they lacked a female instructor. Self-defense drills can be awkward as they teach how to defend against an attack if someone is on top of you, trying to pin you down. Although incredibly important, this is uncomfortable for girls to practice with male instructors. I benefited from practicing with a female instructor and realized that I could play that role for the younger girls. Within the first week of working with the older girls, one student told me how glad she was to have a female instructor to practice self-defense drills. In that moment, I knew how important it was for me to show up for these older girls, whose discomfort or embarrassment can sometimes lead to them quitting taekwondo prematurely. Now, I watch these girls grow from three-year-old Little Ninjas eager to show me their pigtails to confident teenagers traversing the two-mile obstacle course they must complete before earning their Black Belt. And yet my contribution to the dojo does not come close to repaying the lessons I learned from years spent training my body, conditioning my mind, and constantly improving. Somehow, without my realizing it, my personality and spirit entwined with the sport.

“Punch me in the face,” I instruct, as Jolie’s chubby face splits into a grin and she giggles. Jolie is three and one of the Little Ninjas I teach at my taekwondo dojo three times a week. I am the only female instructor, and the girls, especially, enjoy being in my group. At first, I was disappointed that my parents pulled me out of dance classes to start taekwondo in third grade. I begrudgingly attended classes, struggling to see the value in the extracurricular. But as I progressed, I realized how taekwondo was transforming my life, challenging me physically and mentally, and giving me the confidence that comes from knowing that you have overcome obstacles. Taekwondo is not just about being able to punch or kick your way out of problems; it is about expanding your mindset and believing in yourself. At the end of most classes, we sit around the main instructor and listen to a story that revolves around one of the five tenets of taekwondo: courtesy, integrity, perseverance, self-control, and indomitable spirit. Now, years later, and as a Second-Degree Black Belt, I get to teach young students these same principles that shaped me, and I have a role in promoting positive thinking in the younger students. The curriculum teaches us to think about mindset and gratitude, and each belt has a qualification that requires a mental challenge. Even the Little Ninjas learn the three rules of taekwondo on their very first day: “Focus your eyes; focus your mind; focus your body.” A gentle reminder to one of my Little Ninjas to “focus their body” will help stop rambunctious toddlers from running in circles, allowing them to “focus their mind” on the task at hand. Teaching taekwondo has revealed a passion for teaching children. I have learned how to diffuse emotional situations, such as when a young child starts crying at the start of class when their parent drops them off. I have also learned how to use positive reinforcement to encourage the students. I am amazed by how differently the younger students process information and respond to instruction. They get distracted easily, making teaching a larger group of students all the more challenging as I attempt to capture the attention of two dozen toddlers. Teaching the older children comes with its own set of challenges. Although originally hired to teach the Little Ninjas, I soon began assisting with the older students because they lacked a female instructor. Self-defense drills can be awkward as they teach how to defend against an attack if someone is on top of you, trying to pin you down. Although incredibly important, this is uncomfortable for girls to practice with male instructors. I benefited from practicing with a female instructor and realized that I could play that role for the younger girls. Within the first week of working with the older girls, one student told me how glad she was to have a female instructor to practice self-defense drills. In that moment, I knew how important it was for me to show up for these older girls, whose discomfort or embarrassment can sometimes lead to them quitting taekwondo prematurely. Now, I watch these girls grow from three-year-old Little Ninjas eager to show me their pigtails to confident teenagers traversing the two-mile obstacle course they must complete before earning their Black Belt. And yet my contribution to the dojo does not come close to repaying the lessons I learned from years spent training my body, conditioning my mind, and constantly improving. Somehow, without my realizing it, my personality and spirit entwined with the sport.

“Punch me in the face,” I instruct, as Jolie’s chubby face splits into a grin and she giggles. Jolie is three and one of the Little Ninjas I teach at my taekwondo dojo three times a week. I am the only female instructor, and the girls, especially, enjoy being in my group. At first, I was disappointed that my parents pulled me out of dance classes to start taekwondo in third grade. I begrudgingly attended classes, struggling to see the value in the extracurricular. But as I progressed, I realized how taekwondo was transforming my life, challenging me physically and mentally, and giving me the confidence that comes from knowing that you have overcome obstacles. Taekwondo is not just about being able to punch or kick your way out of problems; it is about expanding your mindset and believing in yourself. At the end of most classes, we sit around the main instructor and listen to a story that revolves around one of the five tenets of taekwondo: courtesy, integrity, perseverance, self-control, and indomitable spirit. Now, years later, and as a Second-Degree Black Belt, I get to teach young students these same principles that shaped me, and I have a role in promoting positive thinking in the younger students. The curriculum teaches us to think about mindset and gratitude, and each belt has a qualification that requires a mental challenge. Even the Little Ninjas learn the three rules of taekwondo on their very first day: “Focus your eyes; focus your mind; focus your body.” A gentle reminder to one of my Little Ninjas to “focus their body” will help stop rambunctious toddlers from running in circles, allowing them to “focus their mind” on the task at hand. Teaching taekwondo has revealed a passion for teaching children. I have learned how to diffuse emotional situations, such as when a young child starts crying at the start of class when their parent drops them off. I have also learned how to use positive reinforcement to encourage the students. I am amazed by how differently the younger students process information and respond to instruction. They get distracted easily, making teaching a larger group of students all the more challenging as I attempt to capture the attention of two dozen toddlers. Teaching the older children comes with its own set of challenges. Although originally hired to teach the Little Ninjas, I soon began assisting with the older students because they lacked a female instructor. Self-defense drills can be awkward as they teach how to defend against an attack if someone is on top of you, trying to pin you down. Although incredibly important, this is uncomfortable for girls to practice with male instructors. I benefited from practicing with a female instructor and realized that I could play that role for the younger girls. Within the first week of working with the older girls, one student told me how glad she was to have a female instructor to practice self-defense drills. In that moment, I knew how important it was for me to show up for these older girls, whose discomfort or embarrassment can sometimes lead to them quitting taekwondo prematurely. Now, I watch these girls grow from three-year-old Little Ninjas eager to show me their pigtails to confident teenagers traversing the two-mile obstacle course they must complete before earning their Black Belt. And yet my contribution to the dojo does not come close to repaying the lessons I learned from years spent training my body, conditioning my mind, and constantly improving. Somehow, without my realizing it, my personality and spirit entwined with the sport.