There’s only one more lesson left now before my grading, and it’s question time. I don’t mean questions to my seniors or instructors, but questioning myself. It doesn’t help me any but it’s something I do every time without fail. I can safely predict now that over the next couple of days I’m going to be asking myself some familiar questions.
How’s my Korean? Are there any technique names I need to brush up on?
Do I know my forms well enough? Will I remember the kihap points in my newest one?
What if I forget everything when I stand in front of the panel to be quizzed?
How on Earth am i going to survive the physical?
It’s the latter of those that tends to play on my mind the most, as it’s (for me) by far the most difficult part of the grading. I usually grade with people of a similar grade, so I know the grading panel aren’t going to go easy for my sake. Not that they would of course, there’s no point in the physical unless it’s going to knacker you before you start.
Each grading I take now is getting harder and harder, and this will be no exception. There’s more expected of me physically and mentally, and I have so much more to remember and to work on. Sloppy things which might have earned me a ‘pass’ in the past will get noticed even more now and count against me. Plus from a ‘face’ viewpoint and my own pride, I’m likely to be one of the last to grade. That means the people going up before me are setting a standard to everyone watching, I need to be at least that good. I know that in all reality that’s not true, and not the way I should be thinking about it. This is a personal test, not comparing me against the others. I also know that when it comes to my turn to test, I won’t even be aware of the guy next to me, let alone the people watching, but what makes it worse is the waiting. I’ll be sat at the back of the hall for the best part of two hours or so with nothing to say and no-one to talk to other than my brain, the same brain which I’m going to be working on making positive, and driving out those creeping doubts.
I know this all sounds horribly pessimistic and negative, but in a way it’s therapeutic to me.
The nerves have officially started.
You’re going to do great. I’ll be anxious to hear the news. You’re so lucky you live across the pond where I can’t cough on you or else you’d be sitting this one out. 😉