Teaching Class

Last week I filled in to teach some of the kids' classes at my taekwondo school.  The first day, I had two students; the next day I had about eighteen.  I have a new appreciation for the owner, who usually teaches every kids' class by herself.  I'm pretty sure the parents drop their kids off in the hopes that they will have a bunch of energy burned off this before class is over ... and they are a huge handful.

Ok.  They are also about 150% adorable.

God, I'm so pregnant.  I would never say that stuff six months ago.

Here's a rundown of what class was like:

• Warm up.
• Two kids forget where to stand in line.
• Three kids simultaneously have their belts fall off.
• Break, re-tie belts; they are falling off all over the place.
• Two kids and one mom stop me to say they are all sick/injured and can only do a few exercises today.  I immediately forget who they are and for the rest of the hour, I keep asking them to kick pads or whatever and they politely raise their hands and tell me how sick/injured they are and then I feel dumb.
• Kicks.
• Four more kids end up with belts around their ankles.  It's like trying to tie on a piece of jello.
• Break.
• We learn run-jump-front-kick or butterfly kick or whatever the kids are calling it these days.  I discover that the kids have new and adorable names for about half the stuff we do.
• Self-defense.  Because there are a million kids in this class, I have partner an older kid with a younger kid and have them review.  I kneel in front of the smallest girl -- I swear she was about four years old and was wearing the sweetest pair of purple eye glasses ever, they may have been butterfly shaped -- and teach her two moves.  I remind her to kihap.  She hits me in the head a few times by accident.  It's cute.
• Break.  More belt retying.  I wonder if I should get out the stapler.
• Dodgeball.  The kids all wanted to play it.
• I say a silent prayer of thanks that the kids are good at lining up.  Every time they got out of control or too loud, I could clap my hands and they would all dutifully drop whatever they were doing to line up.
• After class, I deal with several parents who have varying requests -- paying a bill, needing a new uniform, looking for the lost and found, wanting a mediator between a few boys who weren't getting along.
• My feet hurt for the rest of the day.