Fictional Children’s Story
It was a bright Saturday morning at Omaha Blue Waves Martial Arts, and the dojo buzzed with excitement. The rank promotion test was about to begin, and students in crisp uniforms lined up on the mat. Among them stood Eli, a nervous 10-year-old with wide eyes and a yellow belt tied just a little too tight.
Eli had been practicing for weeks. Kicks, blocks, forms—he knew them all. But today, something felt different. His stomach fluttered like a thousand tiny butterflies. His biggest fear wasn’t the test itself—it was failing in front of everyone.
“What if I mess up my form?” he whispered to his friend Maya. “What if I forget the combination? What if I don’t pass?”
Maya smiled gently. “You won’t mess up. And even if you do, it’s not the end of the world. Just try your best.”
But as the test began, Eli couldn’t shake the fear. His movements felt stiff, and when it came time to demonstrate his form, he froze. For a few seconds, the room was silent. Eli’s mind raced. He fumbled through the moves, finishing late and off-rhythm.
When the test ended, the instructors gathered to review everyone’s performance. When promotions were announced the next week Eli’s name wasn’t called, but one of the instructors sat down to talk with him.
“Eli, you’ve shown great progress,” said Mr. Short, one of the instructors. “But at the test, you didn’t meet all the requirements for your next rank.”
Eli’s heart sank. He bit his lip to stop it from trembling. Some kids clapped for the students who passed. He wanted to disappear.
After class, as students began heading home, Mr. Short sat beside Eli on the edge of the mat.
“I saw how hard you worked,” he said. “You gave it everything you had. I want to tell you something I don’t often share.”
Eli looked up, surprised. Mr. Short was a black belt—he seemed like someone who never made mistakes.
“I failed my green belt test when I was your age,” Mr. Short said with a chuckle. “Twice, actually. I was so nervous the first time I forgot my own name when bowing in. The second time, I tripped doing a jump kick and landed flat on my back. Everyone saw. I wanted to quit.”
Eli blinked. “What made you keep going?”
Mr. Short smiled. “I realized something important. The test isn’t just about passing. It’s about learning what you’re made of. Every time I failed, I got stronger—not just in my kicks and punches, but in here.” He pointed to his chest. “Courage is a muscle too, and the only way to grow it is by using it—especially when things don’t go your way.”
Eli listened quietly.
“I made friends who picked me up when I stumbled,” Mr. Short continued. “I learned that trying again made the success even sweeter. And the confidence I built here? It helped me speak in front of my class, try out for the school play, and even get through tough things at home. That kind of strength doesn’t come from getting everything right. It comes from showing up again after you fall.”
Eli took a deep breath. The butterflies were still there—but they didn’t feel quite as scary.
“Thanks, Mr. Short.”
“Anytime,” he said, clapping Eli on the shoulder. “Come back Monday. We’ll work together on the parts you struggled with. The next test is just another chance to grow.”
As Eli walked out of the Dojang, the air felt lighter. Maybe he hadn’t passed this time. But he had gained something more important: the courage to keep going.
And in the end, that’s what being a martial artist—and a learner—was really all about.
For Parents: This fictional story talks about one of our tenets: Perseverance. We want to teach our kids to overcome obstacles and not to put too much pressure on themselves about hitting a bump in the road. If we keep our eyes set on the journey rather than the destination we learn more, grow more, and ultimately become more. Thanks for choosing Omaha Blue Waves Martial Arts as your home.
