Free Frozen Teardrop by Lucinda Ruh Page B

the older kids or adults on younger children who can’t bear it. If an older kid than I at the rink dropped something, I would have to pick it up for them or be bullied the rest of the day. It was like treading on eggshells all the time. It was like being of service to the older kids. If an older kid was preparing for a jump but I had the right of way I would still have to get out of the way and let the other do the jump.
    On top of this, teachers are incredibly respected in Japan and they are considered always right. They can do no wrong and you are never to speak to a coach unless spoken to. My coach was the top teacher at the rink, and this plus his age gave him enormous authority. We were told that it was a huge honor to be taught by him and we owed our life to him. My life and respect was all laid before my coach. When we entered the ice rink all the coaches would be lined up and we would have to go to each and every coach to say either good morning, good afternoon, or good evening according to the time of day it was. Then when the session was over we would have to go to each one again and say good-bye and thank-you. If this was not done, you were scolded and would be shunned. My coach’s order was my command. Or you would be thrown out. What a disgrace and shame that would be, not only for me but also for my mother. We would not have been able to face any of them again. So the pressure of all these rules was extreme, and whatever my coach told my mother and me, it needed to be done or we were told to not dare show our faces there again.
    I honestly do not know much about my Japanese coach. I could not figure him out and the longer I was there the less he showed me of himself. He was a coach who taught me. He was not there to be understood by me. He was not there for me to become friends with. He was to remain an enigma and in that way we could respect him. My coach did not speak to me much. He would teach me with few words, few actions, and with a stern face glowing with an expression that I was to fear him. This way it was thought the best would come from his students. The idea was to break them down so that they produce. But whatever happened to building them back up? The building back up part came with getting another lesson the next day that showed you were worthy and good enough to have his time for one more lesson. That was success enough. If you won a medal no words of praise were uttered. The medal was to signify good work but it represented that more work was needed. Plus, it was to be believed in my home as well that we should never be too happy; otherwise bad things would happen to us. Was it just plain fear? Fear always takes away love and where there is no love there is no joy and no true success.
    Coaches would lash out at their other skaters with physical and mental abuse but since I was a foreigner they were too afraid to hit me. I was never touched, but my coach did scream at me and showed his anger at me in different ways, such as not giving me lessons for days on end and not speaking or looking at me. Coaches would punish their students by making them walk around the circumference of the ice rink barefoot for the remainder of the session. This could be for an hour or more. They would hit them until they bled. They would scream and parents would just watch. Parents would continue the abuse off the ice hitting their kids with the skate guards, bare hands, or whatever else they had.
    There was one boy from another coach who was hit so much he couldn’t walk straight anymore and was trembling nonstop. There was a little cafe by the rink and they would pull him in there and beat him like crazy. The memory of his screams and cries still make me sick to my stomach to this day. They made the music louder to drown the noise. Coaches wouldn’t hit the older students as much as the younger ones. But it started with skaters who were around nine years old. Why would they lash out? Well, it could be