The studio in downtown St. Paul was large, well-respected, and well-equipped. The front was also full of bright-eyed youngsters as new to karate as he was to teaching it. That was the best part.
In the back instructor's dressing room, Lance shed his jeans and pulled the white karate uniform pants into place. The wall-sized mirror on the one side of the small room showed him the twenty-two year old wanna-be that he was. It wasn't fair really, to think he was only settling here. Maybe he was supposed to be here. Maybe the laughs coming from the other room were supposed to send his blood pumping with excitement like they were. But what if they eventually quit doing that? What then? He'd gotten luckier than even he wanted to admit, landing this position. He couldn't afford to lose it. He couldn't afford to have it grow dull.
He fingered short black waves of hair toward the side of his head and turned to reach for the lever door handle. Then stopped.
Why the sudden hesitation, the unsurety? He could do this.
No. He couldn't. That was the problem. He'd never been able to do anything alone and now he was trying to live as though he could. But what was he supposed to do? Whether he wanted to admit it or not, he was settling here. The one place he could get. The place was nice, but - would this be it? He'd live with his parents for life and live off of whatever he earned in an unknown building for martial arts lessons. Never earn a degree. Never make a name for himself anywhere. Because he was hardly intelligent enough to pass high school and...
His chest tightened.
He shouldn't think this way.
His knuckles tightened around the brass of the handle.
How was he supposed to think?
He closed his eyes, sliding to his knees where he was. He'd pray before he did anything.
Right there, fingers clenching the door handle, head bowed, he took a breath.
"God..." He whispered and cleared his throat. "If You could find my dad... save him... and You did... You can give me purpose here."
It wasn't what he'd always dreamed of. Being stationed in one place.
He'd dreamed of graduating despite the difficulties of college classes - or touring the world on a snowboard.
He'd wanted to either break out of his comfort zone or run so fast while he was in it that he didn't realize he was standing still.
Here he'd have no choice but to feel the monotony.
He took in a long breath and held it. Then released and stood.
"So show me the purpose."
One hand lifted to flick the light, the other twisted the knob and he stepped out, finding a smile that felt unnaturally forced for a couple walking in with a round-cheeked little red-head. The child lifted her face to grin at him and his heart warmed, making his smile more real.
He walked forward and offered a hand to who he assumed was the father.
"Lance McTavish, instructor here."
The handshake was firm and he read into it. It said, 'Don't mess up my little girl. She's here to learn and you look shady.'
But the man's face was tolerably pleasant. "Gordan Raft." A nod toward the daughter who was maybe seven.
"Jessica."
Lance dropped a kind smile and dancing eyes to the child. "Hi. How are you?"
Her teeth softly chattered as her mother pulled the sleeves of her coat.
"Good!"
"I'm glad to hear it! Still cold out there?"
"F-f-f-freezin'!"
He laughed. "We'll make sure you warm up in here. You excited?"
She nodded. "Kinda."
He really shouldn't feel slighted. He wasn't as excited as he could be either. "Kinda??"
She giggled and looked to her mother.
The woman's smile was sweet. "A little nervous."
"Ahh," Lance nodded slowly, then looked back down. "That makes two of us, Kiddo."
Might as well be honest.
Her eyes went slightly more round. "Huh?"
He bent to get level with her and not-so-secretly whispered, "I'm nervous too."
That would either make things worse or better for them.
He was relieved when the father chuckled and the girl sighed something that seemed like relief.
But her expression still showed shock. "How come?"
He gave her a crooked smile and spread his hands. "My first day too."
"Really?"
"Yep."
"Are you sure??"
He slashed his index finger across his chest twice. "Cross my heart."
"Wow! Both of our first days are today!"
He raised a palm. "High five!"
Her cold fingers clapped his and two more small boys got herded in from the front door.
He stood, giving the girl and her parents a crinkly-eyed smile. "Go ahead and play with the rubber balls or meet your classmates if you want. We'll start in just a little while."
After pausing to see if they had any last questions, he moved on to introduce himself to other parents around the room, then set up a number of chairs along the back wall, out of the way of the floor mats. Breathing. Relaxing. He could get into this. He was with people.
Lord, what's wrong with me?
He'd just chatted and laughed with a dozen friendly, eager faces - faces belonging to humans he could have an impact on - and he was still thinking about other places he could be.
He was actually fighting tears in the back of his throat as he adjusted his name tag necklace.The one his mother had put his name in the night before. Because sometimes even private lessons for years from qualified tutors didn't cut past a brain destined to misunderstand the written language.
So he'd resorted to getting the tag and other things home early for Mum instead of rushing through it before lessons like anyone else could have.
At least the kids could read it now.
If there happened to be a kid that couldn't read it, he'd know. He could spot another dyslexic from a mile away, however many tricks they'd learned to hide it. Masters at the art of tricks were just good like that.
He shook his head at himself, glanced toward the big round clock at the end of the room and started a slow rhythmic clap. It caught the attention of a couple of messy-haired blond boys nearest him and they quieted, turning to watch him. He waggled his brows at them and nodded when they started doing the same thing.
Clap, clap, clap, clap...
Others around their trio of clappers looked over and got encouraged to do the same thing and the action caught on until every hand in the room was smacking a partner, including those of the parents left to watch throughout the lesson.
No pressure.
He nodded merrily and circled around the clusters of children, working large rubber balls out of the room with his feet and then navigating to the middle of the largest red floor mat.
His hands stopped the rhythm of the clap a moment so he could wave them all to gather around.
Some eyes looked ecstatic, others as unsure as he felt. But he didn't show it.
He wasn't even as unsure with the situation as he was with his life. But he really had to let that go. At least for the hour.
He smiled, particularly warmly for the kids that seemed the most anxious, and began a jump with every clap.
It amazed him what instruction without saying a word could do. It wasn't long before his tribe was all jumping in unison.
He glanced at the clock, kept on a full fifteen seconds before slowing.
"Ya'll look like a bunch of kangaroos!"
Some giggled, most laughed hard enough that their jumping got limp.
He dropped his reddened palms to his flat hips and took in the small crowd, not really noticing the few parents seated in the corner a short ways away. At least none of the kids were clinging to Mom or Dad and refusing to give him a shot.
"Kangaroos??" One boy asked.
"That's right. Don't you think so?"
The boy grinned a gappy smile and shook his head.
Lance laughed and motioned them all to have a cross-legged seat around him.
He pulled up the one large ball he'd left out and sat on it in front of them, then flipped his name tag around so the words faced his chest. "How many of you know my name already?"
His hand shot up so they'd know to raise theirs before answering.
About half of them did. Not bad.
A girl with teasing eyes and blond pigtails stuck her tongue out at him and he wrinkled his nose at her, passing her over to point a finger at the first child he'd met that afternoon.
"Jessica. I know you, do you know me?"
She nodded. "You're Lance..."
He offered his palm for her to clap again and she did so with a shy laugh.
"Hear that everyone? Who knows my name now?"
The hands all shot up.
He smiled. "Just yell it."
"LANCE!" came out loud enough that he gasped.
"Wow. Excellent."
Then he looked around the group. "This really isn't fair though. I've got twelve names to remember and you only HAVE to remember one!"
Laughs rang around the group again.
He folded his arms and squinted. "I think you guys ought to memorize each others' too."
He pretended to grow exasperated when many of them informed him they already knew most of the others from every which other place and then hid the last ball away to start some stretches with them. While they did that, he explained to them who he was, why they were there and what they'd be doing, inviting them into the conversation as much as possible.
Jessica wasn't the most well-balanced or coordinated individual on the planet, but she tried as hard or harder than everyone else. And as the lesson wore on, she talked to him as if she'd known him forever when they'd met less than sixty minutes prior.
He put a quick stop to the teasing when freckled Owen called her out on being a clumsy teacher's pet and offered his hand every time she fell during the stance practices. She grew quiet and slightly frustrated with the laughs the other children failed to hold back. Her eyes actually glistened with tears by the time he had to wrap things up. He knew how she felt and prayed in his own head and heart that she wouldn't be too discouraged to come back. But the other children were getting to her.
And as he silently 'amened', it dawned on him that he'd better make up his mind to be there and stay there as long as she was going to if he wanted her to stay.
And he almost swore he felt a nudge from God to...
No. His heart thudded.
No, God wouldn't have him do that.
But it was all he could think to do and... it would make a point. It could make a powerful point. At least, to a bunch of seven year-olds.
He agonized though he didn't show it and then, before dismissing them, rounded them up again on the center mat.
Little faces flushed from exercise and excitement surrounded him and though he smiled, he did so with more of a polite edge than exuberance or friendliness. Maybe they picked up on it. Half of them seemed to sober.
He drew in a long breath and let it out slowly, shoulders growing slightly numb as a foursome of parents stepped into the back again.
He swallowed. He'd get his message out even with adult ears around. It just made things about fifty times harder.
"Kay, guys, so here's what I'm thinking. We're here to learn right?"
A few nodded.
"Right?"
More heads nodded.
He swung his hands behind his back and clasped them.
"But I've got a problem."
They paused as long as he did, quiet for as long as he was.
"I'm scared."
Some blinked. Some stared. Some looked away.
One girl, the blond with the tongue, made a face. "Scared of what??"
"That we'll beat him up!" one boy hollered.
A lot of them laughed.
He smiled half-heartedly and shook his head.
"No guys, listen."
The laughter lingered until he cleared his throat.
"I'm serious now." It hit him hard that he was.
And when they caught on to that, it was like magic. No eyes joked any more.
He let the intensity and the tension stretch, more than half-tempted to pull a grin, tell them he was kidding and send them on their way.
But he caught Jessica's eye and the girl seemed to wait. Her interest came from more than curiosity. She wanted him to say whatever he was really scared of.
Maybe he owed it to her.
Maybe this was why he was here.
Maybe he was making something too big out of it.
He said, "I'm scared because even though I'm really good at what I'm teaching you - there's something I'm really really bad at."
Some of the stares turned into frowns. A few kids shifted.
A boy quietly asked, "What?"
Lance was glad someone asked or he might have bailed.
He ducked his chin and tapped his name tag. "See that?"
Silence.
He looked at them.
"Yeah, it says your name," Jessica said.
He nodded. "Guess who wrote it."
Heads tipped.
"You?" came from more than one mouth.
His smile was soft, somewhat empty. Almost shy. As shy as the girl that had fallen all day. He shook his head.
"I asked my Mom to write it last night."
His gaze pleaded more than it dared them to ask why.
They were confused.
Jessica scratched her head. "How come?"
"Can't you write yourself?" Owen asked.
"That's what I'm talking about." Lance betrayed himself and plunged. "Guys, you've got an instructor that is really really bad at reading and writing."
He looked them over seriously, feeling somewhat released, trying to detach himself but failing. Jessica's eyes sucked him in and he had to think about what he was saying.
"So bad I barely finished high school. And college didn't work out for me."
A couple stares glazed over.
"Really?" someone whispered.
They were taking him seriously.
He could cry from relief and shame at the same time.
But he had no reason to be ashamed.
Just like Jessica had no reason to.
He nodded.
"How come?"
He paused. "I've got something called dysgraphic dyslexia. It's okay if you can't say it. But it makes it hard for my brain to understand letters. And I was so scared you guys would find out."
They stared.
Jessica blinked softly. "But you told us."
He lifted a hand to the side of his head and nodded. "I had to. Cuz I gotta know. Is anyone here going to make fun of me?"
The silence was tense.
Jessica was the first to shake her head and to his surprise the blond girl and two other boys were quick to follow suit.
Even Owen said, "No way, Man. You're bigger than we are."
But the boy's grin held a hint of sincerity - compassion.
Lance gently swung his hand forward, offering it to the kid.
They shook and when he released, he looked over the crowd again, amazed at the agonizing silence even among the parents lingering around the edges of the building.
"I'm glad to know I'm safe here, guys. Because it's hard to teach when you're worried about people being mean."
He held their stares.
"And it's really hard to LEARN when you're worried about being teased too, right?"
They blinked and squirmed.
The blond girl nodded.
He stayed serious.
"I want everyone to have fun here. We can learn and play around and laugh, but I never want anyone to feel bad for not being the best at something. Hear me?"
Nervous nods.
"No teasing. No name-calling. We got a number one rule in Lance's karate class. Remember a rule I gave you earlier?"
"Do your best," a few recited.
He nodded. "I want you to too. But even MORE than that - I want you all to include everyone here as a friend. And friends don't hurt feelings, do they?"
Owen looked down and scuffed at the mat with his toe.
Most of the rest shook their heads.
"No one will get away with being mean here anyway. So we might as well have a good time and be nice."
They were quiet long enough that he allowed himself to smile. "Aye, aye?"
A few of them cracked smiles of their owns.
He tipped his head and cupped a hand behind his ear. "I said... aye, aye?!"
A few laughs.
"Kay!"
"Kay!" He began to clap and turned light and casual as quickly as he'd gone sober-faced on them before. "Coats and shoes and moms and dads....!"
They ran off in different directions, though they weren't nearly as noisy as they'd been an hour ago.
Something smoldered in him and for once, it wasn't shame.
It was a sense of freedom - and hope.
He started setting up mats, nearly laughing when a handful of kids formed a search party to help Jessica find her shoes.
They had listened.
God could do something with him here. God would do something with him here.
The rooms numbers started dwindling until only a few were left. Before he set up the last mat, he caught a shadow from the corner of his eye and turned in time to be plummeted into by a pair of pudgy pale arms.
Jessica clung onto him for a full six seconds before tipping her head back. "I can't WAIT till tomorrow!"
He laughed - and did nothing to hide the tears in his eyes. Then squeezed her shoulders.
"Neither can I."
And he couldn't.
