The Silent Dojang

The Taekwondo school in the Paem Ri Village of South Korea was a simple school, just as Grandmaster Ahn wanted. The village sustained no more than 100 families, and most inhabitants spent days farming with family. That same atmosphere was present in the small dojang built by the Grandmaster himself. Inside the dojang, wooden floorboards creaked, windows showed cracks, and the front door often swung open with the wind. So the dojang, like the town, was truly rustic.

All the students knew each other like siblings and Grandmaster Ahn felt very much like their big uncle. On a normal afternoon, the class met and sat in their assigned rows while the Grandmaster entered and sat in front of them. Like every other day, the class waited for him to speak, but today was different. He didn’t say anything.

Bae, an older student, called out, “Sir, is there…” But before Bae could finish, the Grandmaster’s hand raised up. Bae hushed immediately. The teacher then untied the band from around his head and tied it over his mouth. He then stood and proceeded to start class. The students looked confused, but then realized class was starting.

They followed along for the rest of the hour and did class as normal, but without speaking. None of them talked with each other through drills; but no explanations were necessary. They just watched and used body language. Once complete, everyone returned to their normal spots. The Grandmaster bowed and left. The students awkwardly looked around then departed as well.

This same pattern occurred the rest of the week, with no speaking from Grandmaster Ahn or the students. When playing outside after class, the students agreed that Grandmaster’s behavior was strange and many wondered if he had lost his voice. Some thought they were being punished.

So the weekend passed and on Monday, students returned to the dojang. Again they lined up, sat and awaited the Grandmaster. He entered slowly and sat down before them. All students were quiet, watching his every move. None of them expected what happened next. The teacher closed his eyes then suddenly burst into laughter! The students jumped in surprise then laughed along with him.

Finally, he spoke with seriousness, “My students. The silence is over. The past week we did not speak with our voices but with our actions. We did not listen with our ears, but with our eyes and bodies.” The students reflected in amazement. Last week’s classes had gone normally, but without speaking. The Grandmaster was right! “So you see. Talk is very cheap. Our actions are most important. No matter what, remember that everything you do is communication with your fellow man. How you move, what you do, how you train. To me, this is who you truly are, regardless of what your mouth may say.”

From that moment on, his students performed better in class and spoke only to encourage each other. For during the week that the dojang was silent, they learned to communicate only with responsibility and purpose, simply by not speaking at all.