Skip to main content

It's Meningibolaids Season

I teach 4 back to back classes on Tuesdays, starting with an adorable big headed three year old named Marcus, and ending with my most advanced 6-8 year olds. Yesterday, about halfway through one of his katas, one of my yellow belt boys took off his glasses, rubbed his eyes and said "I think I have pinkeye."

Ok, first of all, no. No you do not have pinkeye. Dude, have you seen pinkeye?? It is not discreet;rather your eye bubbles over like a wild Hawaiian volcano. Believe me, if you had pinkeye you would know. I would know. Most of all, your PARENTS would know and maybe, just maybe, you would have stayed home today.

And second of all, get the hell out of my dojo!

It is that time of year again. Time to buy stock in Purell. Time to hand wash like you are going into surgery. Time to invest in a protective bubble. A few days ago, while she was putting on her shoes, one of the other kids sneezed directly onto Maya's head. My kids class sounds like feeding time at the zoo. Did I mention that I teach four year olds. They don't cover their mouths when they cough. They wipe their noses on everything. They are smart, sweet and funny, and are absolutely, entirely composed of germs. Highly contagious germs.

Of course it does not help that I am a terrible hypochondriac. My head hurts, its a brain tumor. My neck is sore (a weekly occurrence in my world where someone is almost always trying to choke me), meningitis. I feel feverish, Ebola. And so on.

Some martial artists have an ironclad routine, a schedule that is absolutely impenetrable. Like my husband. He trains Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Thursdays. Period. Unless they are closed. Or he is really, really, really contagious. Like pinkeye, for example. He would not train with pinkeye.

Me, I like to be allowed to make game time decisions. And by game time, I mean "Hmm in order to make it to class I need to leave the house some time in the next two minutes. Time to assess how I feel. And how many episodes of Dance Moms I have saved on my DVR."

The truth is I usually end up going to class. But just in case you are on the fence, here is my totally not at all expert opinion on when you shouldn't go:

  1. When it is on your skin and your sport is grappling. Dude, ringworm is not cool. Stay home and put some cream on that. Your teammates will thank you.
  2. When bodily fluids are involved. A little congestion is fine. Everyone has a cold. But if anything is coming out of your body at regular intervals it is probably best to stay away. 
  3. If you have a fever. If I am not allowed to send my kid to school with it, than you should probably not train with it.
  4. If your body is telling you to sleep. In my experience there are minor illnesses where sweating it out makes you feel fantastic, and then there are those where you are better off in bed. If you listen to your body, you will probably be making the right choice. In other words, if training feels bad, it probably is.
And if you are feeling a bit under the weather today, here is a song to cheer you up. Maya made it up in the bath on Monday. And it is in Spanish!!


"Yo y tu diventido
Animales y caballo
La manzana rojo."

There was another line too, that I don't remember,  also ending with o. Now I do not know Espanol all that well but I am pretty sure the lyrics to this song translate as "You and I have fun. Animals and a horse. A red apple."

I was pretty impressed with her . 

I mean, have you listened to the radio lately? La manzana rojo is a damn good song. Grammy winning even. Go Maya!

So, to sum up:
Don't take karate class if you have pinkeye. 
It is always meningitis.
And...a red apple.

Adios amigos!

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Rape is Not a Spelling Error

There is certainly no shortage of blog posts out there about Brock Turner and his terrible crime. Writers far more prolific than myself have dissected the entire case, have shamed the judge Aaron Persky, have expressed outrage at Brock's father's statements. So my addition to the pile is going to be nothing unique, but still I feel compelled to throw my two cents in. There are many reasons to be angry about this story; the latest in a never ending series of disappointments when it comes to our culture and the way we handle rape. But I am a writer. I focus on words. And there is one word that keeps coming up that really drives me crazy. Mistake. As in Brock Turner made a "mistake."  He got drunk, found an equally drunk, mostly unconscious woman, and oopsy, accidentally raped her.  Cause you know, alcohol. Here is the definition of the word mistake:  an action or judgment that is misguided or wrong. synonyms: error ,  fault ,  inac...

Blogging About Promotion is Inappropriate

As a kids karate teacher I am often trying to get my students to not focus on promotion. Don't get me wrong, a new color around your waist is an excellent motivator. But I hope the kids will ultimately come to class because they love karate , not just because they are punching the clock (so to speak) on their way to a new belt. When I first started studying jiu jitsu it was all about the thrill of something new. I just wanted to learn how to do all these awkward techniques with their odd Brazilian names . I didn't care that I was a white belt, on the contrary I loved it. It had been a long time since I was a beginner. About 8-10 months into my training a bunch of the people in my class got blue belts. I knew I wasn't ready for a promotion yet. But still, when the woman who was my partner almost every day got her new belt tied on right next to me I felt a little wierd. Ok fine, I was a bit envious. She was definitely better than me, but she was not that much bett...

November 20th

I am going to tell you a secret.  The name of your school does not matter. The patch you wear on your uniform does not matter. The belt you tie around your waist, the color of your gi, the medals on your wall, none of these things matter.  All that matters is the sweat on the floor. Period. I am not saying that you should not be proud of those things. You earned them and they deserve to be celebrated.  I am not saying that all dojos are the same. They aren't. But none of that matters. What matters is that you did one more pushup that night. When you thought you were done, you did one more.  What matters is that you kept fighting, even though he had you pushed up against the wall and for a moment there you were pretty sure he forgot who you were. He certainly forgot how small you were, yet you kept fighting, or at least you kept your hands up and waited for the bell to ring. You didn't quit. What matters is that you went to class. When you would really ra...