I roll my eyes as the same child begins messing around in class for the nineteen thousandth time since the class began. It’s Marcy again, of course it is. Ever since her little sister started taking classes here, she’d been chock full of nothing but an undying sense of superiority and the nerve to demand respect that she has in no way earned, from anyone. Just because she happens to be a purple belt and her sister is only a white belt.
Honestly, I am a black belt and even I don’t just expect respect from anyone that I haven’t earned respect from, even though I have more than paid my dues at this point in time.
As I watch her, glare at her actually, while she vibrates and wiggles in place, her stupid curly, frizzy black hair bouncing about everywhere, I am filled with an intense longing for the good old days. Back when our school was a part of Eclectic Karate. Now don’t get me wrong, I don’t miss Eclectic at all. What I miss is really being able to pu