Sara Mersereau

I grew up at the Dojo. My parents started us in classes when I was five years old, and when I was ten, I tested for my Level One Junior Black Belt. A week or so after the physical test, the group of candidates was taking the History and Terminology test. I was going through fairly confidently, but then there was a word to be translated that I did not recognize. Of course, I assumed that if I got one answer wrong, I would fail, so I started panicking. Mr. Traynor noticed I was getting upset, grabbed my test and the back of my belt, dragged me into the Intro Room, and closed the doors behind him. “What is going on?” he asked. I replied, still worked up, “IDON’TKNOWWHATTHISWORDMEANSANDI’MGOINGTOFAILANDI’LLNEVERGETMYBLACKBELT.” Marcus looked down at the test, rolled his eyes, and said the word out loud. I can’t remember now what it was, but at the time I knew the answer. I said it confidently, but I was still a little confused. He put the paper down and said, “it’s a typo. You’re fine. Go home.”

Since then, the Dojo has remained a constant in my life. Even for the few years I wasn’t actively practicing, I would go with my mom when she took my brother to class and hang out or do homework. In high school, I returned to training, and Mr. Durkin gave me my first job helping in the office. I had no idea at the time how much there was to learn about working with people, but I still use those skills every day, and I am so grateful for him and everything he has taught me on and off the Dojo floor.

Not long ago, I found myself feeling more stressed than normal, just regular “life is hard” stuff, so I stopped by the Dojo. Marcus, once again, brought me into the intro room (not by the belt this time), and asked, “what’s going on?” It didn’t take long for him to talk me down, give me some advice, and assure me everything would be okay. This is something he’s done many times over the years and will probably do many more. That night, I was reminded of a few things: 1) The non-karate things I am learning at the Dojo are far more valuable than the actual karate. The punching and kicking are just fun bonuses. 2) There is no bond quite like the ones formed at the Dojo. Something about a bunch of strangers coming together to better themselves and help each other toward a common goal forms a friendship that only we can understand. 3) Now, roughly twenty-five years after my first class, I am still growing up at the Dojo.