Every student has their 1st day.
I started Martial Arts at the ripe old age of 8. By today’s standards, I was downright geriatric. There are many schools that begin teaching kids at 4, 3 and 2 years old. Some even have a program called “from birth”. As you can imagine, there isn’t a whole lot of actual martial arts going on when the mats are filled with toddlers.
My parents signed me up for Taekwondo in the hopes that I would learn some confidence and self-control. The owner of my school was a well-known martial artist and actor—he even played one of the Ninja Turtles in the original live-action movies. Doing flying kicks in a giant rubber turtle suit was an impressive feat, and all of the students were quite excited about it. Unfortunately, the owner of the school was hardly ever there, and I can hardly remember ever being in a class with him. There were many different instructors, and I never felt a real connection with any of them. Feeling unsuccessful, I eventually begged my parents to let me quit.
I really wish they hadn’t. To be fair, I was an absolute pro at fit-throwing and general whining. I made most of the kids in our school today look like saints. My parents probably thought the only way to get me to chill out was to give in. As they quickly learned, that only reinforced my behavior. As a smart kid, like many of the Wushu and Jr Wushu students at our school, I figured out how to get what I wanted. And it was almost always by nefarious means.
A few years later my friends introduced me to a very different kind of martial arts school. Learning Tai Chi and Kung Fu from a school owner who taught every class straightened me right out. I found myself, as if by magic, genuinely enjoying the hard work of improving myself. I felt a connection with Sifu Brown, as did most of my fellow students. I poured myself into every class and listened intently to every lesson. Soon, I saw huge changes in my life, and so did my parents.
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