My journey with Tae Kwon Do started in 2009 when I was 12 years old. I had always been interested in martial arts since I was little, growing up watching 'Kill Bill' and 'The Karate Kid' and dreaming of being taught by a mysterious elderly master of the art. 
Today I wanted to write of my experience with Tae Kwon Do and share my memory of Mr. Dave Ballard, my first teacher.

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I have always been a sort of "bad kid", I always found myself in trouble at school, not that I wanted to be like that and for many reasons I just couldn't help myself. 
My Grandfather decided it would be good that I did something outside of school, not because I was bad, I think he chose martial arts because he liked the idea of the "being able to defend yourself" thing.

Even though I always wanted to try martial arts, the idea didn't resonate well with me at first. I had never heard of Tae Kwon Do before and because it wasn't Karate, I think my 12 year old brain decided it wasn't good enough.

Regardless my Grandfather hauled my cousin and myself down to a small building, I didn't really want to be there and I felt embarrassed and awkward as people in white martial arts suits rushed their late selves into the tiny doorway. 
I remember VERY clearly, not being able to see much through the door as people were standing in the way, watching. But I will never forget the sound which reached my ears before my eyes could even grab a glance.
The THUMP THUMP, of synchronized footfalls along with a sort of THWACK of snappy material forcing itself through the air and finally a great connected war cry "HYAAAAAAA!" leaving the hall eerily quiet as the great sound receded to silence.

In this moment, I knew. 
I was drawn to the strength and the discipline of every, single student and to the very serious respect they paid to the person at the front. A very tall man, with glasses and a stern look on his face.
A man I would come to know as, Mr.B.

Although he appeared quite serious and intimidating, my first meeting with him was a warm handshake, gracious smile and a friendly offer to join in.

For just under a year I trained at the Palmerston North Tae Kwon Do Academy (PNTA) under Mr.B's instruction.
Without trying to sound boastful, Mr.B taught nothing short of the aim for perfection. I have never seen such amazing commitment from a group of people before in my life. The senior students were ALL, so strong and fierce and passionate. I idolized them so very much.

Of course it wasn't all serious, everyone was friendly and funny, always joking around and whatever. But when it came to our instructor, there were no jokes about his way of teaching, no fun to be made of his technique just a quiet hush of respect which always played part in the Dojang.

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For the time I spent being taught by Mr.B, I learnt the right way and the best way. Nothing less.
If I did something wrong, it was quickly but kindly corrected.
By all the black belts, I was taught the same way. No varying levels of understanding or being unsure. 
It sort of reminds me of a military attitude when I think back about it. But I am very fond of unity and organisation and so this worked out well for me.

For the first time in my life, I was paying respect to a teacher. I didn't get in any trouble and I started applying this at school and at home.
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My first grading was one of the scariest things. I remember being so nervous I wanted to vomit but I was filled with a fire in my belly instead as Mr.B gave my class a sort of pep talk saying there was no need to be afraid and to just be as we are in class. Focused and strong.

I remembered these words in every grading I attended after.

Beggining to feel comfortable, like a member of the family at PNTA, I felt very loyal to my group and of course it's teacher.

Until one day, for no reason at all, I was taken from my club and moved to another without any warning.
I protested to my Grandfather, I didn't want to go to a different class, I liked the one I was in.

My new teacher's name was Mr.M.
An amazing teacher as well, and his class was much more relaxed with no military aspect whatsoever.
Which was fine.
But I was still immensely loyal to my original club (PNTA) and I NEVER felt I belonged at the new one even as other members had moved too.

Mr.M had denied me the chance to go to grading to apply for my Green belt and a wave of shock smashed into me like a truck, because Mr.B had assured me I was ready.
Pre-adolescent, selfish and unwise I felt hurt. I cried and begged my Grandfather that night to let me return to PNTA.
But he didn't let me.

And so, very slowly, feeling guilty for "betraying" my first teacher by not going to HIS class, I started going to training less and less.
Taking a day off every second week. Then going once a week and complaining about THAT. I just didn't want to go and felt I would never ever progress.

To help with this problem my Grandfather started training with me! And it really helped. Over the course of a month I started to grow to like my new class and I started having fun and Mr.M was so funny and so friendly. He made us all laugh and taught us to focus on technique and proper execution.
I began to open my mind a bit more and tried to enjoy training.

But sometimes, things happen. Things that are not our fault, are out of our control. And so typically, when it starts to get better, something brings it all crashing down once more.

I found out by the newspaper, that my first teacher, Mr. Dave Ballard, had past away.

I really didn't believe it at first. I did not think it was him.
But then one day I went to school and a girl I knew from PNTA in my class looked incredibly upset. And then I knew.
And I felt my heart literally DROP from my chest.
She had told me what happened and I left the class without asking, sat against a wall and cried for most of the lesson.

I just kept thinking,

"I did not get to thank him. I did not get to say goodbye."

And so, with this person to whom I felt such loyalty too, ripped from my life, I gave up on training and strayed back into my old way of being a "bad kid".
For five years I never thought I would want to train again, although I tried, once moving to Australia, it never felt right.

Then, I don't know what happened, but I decided that Mr.B would not have wanted any of his students to quit, so why did I? Quitting was something he NEVER taught us.
So I've been back. With Rhee Tae Kwon Do and I will not quit and I will not stop. I will continue and I'll remember the person who inspired so many people, who inspired me.

Any Instructor I have now, will be treated with the same respect and gratitude. And in his memory I will try my best and nothing short of it.
This might be a sad story, but through this experience has grown such a love and care for Tae Kwon Do which I will carry all my life.

Thank you Mr.B, for all you have ever taught me and for all that I will learn.




 -Kirstine Powhiro