That’s what I thought Sensei Dwight told me right after we bowed out on the foul line. I wasn’t happy. It seemed as if our class was over before it began. The Green Grass Youth Drum was already taking over the gym floor, and there was a lot of noise. It didn’t matter one bit to the drum group that they were walking out onto what had been our sacred dojo space only seconds before. Where we had entered on reverent bare feet, they were all now stomping around in muddy sneakers. Well, nearly all of them. I can understand why they have got this multiple-use policy at the Tribal Rec Complex, but I wish the hell they wouldn’t schedule things so tightly. I mean the drum group not only has to pile in right after us, some of them even come and sit in the bleachers bored and watching the last part of our class and wishing we’d move our little kung-fu asses out of there. But, I reminded myself, I had to look at the bigger picture. Just last night I had complained to Gramma Otterlifter about the tight scheduling.
