Update: Project “Donnie Yen” didn’t pan out for Xander.
To be fair, Sinowushu is a very disciplined school; their Tanjong Katong training centre is also very fittingly set in an assembly hall in the midst of the former TKGS buildings. They regularly churn out national champions in the competitive sport, and their students thoroughly impressed my wife and I. However, the biggest problem Xander had was his age; discipline requires a lot of instruction, and we felt Xander wouldn’t be able to handle such an environment this early in his mental development.
He also didn’t understand why everybody wasn’t smiling (though a few curious boys did come up close to him mid-kick exercises and wonder why he wasn’t all that enthusiastic about the whole thing). His first reaction was to say that this was a dangerous environment, and refused to join in for a trial class.
The quest will continue as he gets older; for now, my wife is looking to groom Xander into a K-pop star, so we’re switching tactics and hunting for a hip-hop dance class for 3-year-olds now.
Not too long ago, a friend of your dad’s was telling me about an overseas experience he had in a certain Western country. He was waiting outside a convenience store for a Caucasian friend of his who had walked in to get some snacks. As the friend came out, he was confronted by a small group of Caucasian roughnecks who started to harass him. Your dad’s friend, sensing something was wrong, walked up to see what was going on.
Here’s the twist: the Caucasian roughnecks saw my friend walking up to defend his friend, and suddenly stopped. Amidst the whispering, your dad’s friend could hear one of them say, “Yo dude, check it, he’s Chinese.” To which another roughneck suddenly raised his hands and said, “Yo, we don’t want no trouble. We’re sorry, man. We’re sorry.”
My friend later found out his friend heard another part of the conversation by one of the roughnecks which went, “Yo man. All them Chinese know
Which is why we’re signing you up for wushu classes this week.