In the 1990s and 2000s, people told kids they were smart to help build confidence. In retrospect society has figured out that this is not the right thing to say. No matter how smart someone is, intelligence is not the true key to success. That’s not the goal. The goal is the work ethic.

 I’ve never felt that I’m a natural athlete. I played baseball as a kid, basketball in 6th grade, wrestled in 8th grade—but my great love was the martial arts. While I have a bit of natural talent for it, my strength in is my will to improve my mind and my spirit, and my willingness to analyze my mistakes. Because my body is controlled by my mind, my mind is the strongest aspect of me. The desire to make myself better is the most important strength of any student: to have resilience and tenacity, a great work ethic. This can be very hard to do. It’s hard to admit faults in our physical, mental and emotional selves. It feels like an attack on our personality. Controlling the ego is an ongoing battle for all of us—especially black belts!

This is what I try to convey to my students. I tell new students that they’ll fall in love when they first start, but the honeymoon period will end in about two months when they hit their first bump. And I impress upon them not to quit when that happens, but to be ready to dig in and find what they need to do to push through: sometimes reaffirming goals or looking back at how far they have come can help. I first experienced the martial arts in Washington, where my dad was stationed at Fort Lewis, when I was four years old. A childhood friend invited me to one of his Taekwondo classes. People were running around kicking and screaming; the instructor was playing a record of the soundtrack from Enter the Dragon, or something like that. They all wore a uniform that kind of looked like a superhero costume without the cape. Being a great fan of the “Superfriends,” I fell in love with what I saw. When I was a kid, martial arts were fun and exciting. Again, kind of like being a real-life superhero.

But martial arts aren’t just for entertainment. Even the best teacher can only entertain a student for so long. The entire video game industry is based on entertainment, and the many people that are addicted to those games generally accomplish nothing. Besides, who wants to get a black belt knowing they were merely entertained the whole time? What matters is the hard work a student puts in; the sweat, blood, and tears that went into that black belt—that’s what matters. I find the feeling of accomplishment is much more fun and satisfying than mere entertainment.

I took a short break from training while my dad spent the last year of his service in Germany, but in 1978 when he returned to where we lived in Redding, California, I started training in earnest under Alan Myrtle. Al was and is a talented martial artist who was originally a student of Jim Mitchell, but had tested under Ed Parker in the mid-1970s. Besides having a passion for karate, I found I was good at it. I did well in tournaments. I am happy to say that I have done well in kata, weapons and fighting throughout my career. My childhood dream of being the best ever may not have been realized, but I like to say that I have done better than most other competitors. I tell my students that it is important to compete in forms and fighting in order to be a well-rounded martial artist. Often because we are better at one event than another, we may gravitate only to the event in which we succeed, not challenging ourselves to improve in the areas where we may falter. I use the example of a high school diploma or a college degree; even if you don’t like math you still need to take it in order to graduate. This makes you more diverse. My parents took me all over California and Nevada to compete. We used to travel in a small Plymouth Champ, me my parents and my sister with all of my equipment and everyone’s luggage. We would joke that when we reached our destination and got out of the vehicle, we looked like the clowns in the circus who would stuff a large party into a tiny car! I will always be grateful to my parents for the time and money they invested in my Kenpo career.

I tested under Ed Parker for my black belt on the 11th of October in 1986. It was a great honor for me to test in front of him. I learned a lot that day. Testing under that kind of pressure is something you never forget! Mr. Parker was helpful and supportive throughout the test. Later that year—when I was sixteen—Phil Streeter (another student of Al Myrtle) and I started our own school. I wasn’t thinking about doing karate as a living because at the time, no one really could. I thought of it as helping Phil with his school. But he took a different job after a while, when the school wasn’t making enough money. I had been taking classes at the local junior college, so I thought of either continuing with that or joining the military (both my parents were military, and they met while stationed in Germany. My mom got pregnant with me there, so I have always told people that I was “made in Germany”). But it came down to a choice: go to college, or keep the school running. I chose to redouble my efforts with the school, to turn it into a successful business. I wanted to instill the positive qualities of the art in other people: the value of hard work, self-improvement, self-confidence. I sought out the help of a friend in Chico, CA named Pat Haley, who had a successful school. He taught me a lot about running a successful business. Today I have over 170 students. Not as large as some, but plenty enough to keep me busy and happy.

At times, my martial arts experience turned my confidence into overconfidence. I’m not an intimidating-looking guy, and especially wasn’t when I was in high school. I was about five-feet ten-inches, weighed about 140 pounds, and had a baby face. Based on appearance, if you were at a party and wanted to start a fight, you’d pick me. But when an article about my black belt promotion was published in the local paper, things changed. A lot of guys said, “Don’t mess with that guy. He’s the karate guy.” I joke about when I won my first grand championship, I held up my trophy and thought, Hey, where are the girls? Aren’t there supposed to be girls in bikinis hanging around me now? I’ve since learned that confidence is a reward in itself. I don’t have to be a tournament champion to have self-confidence. In fact, it is just as important to be humble as it is to have confidence. It’s a balance.

Huk Planas says you have to have a bit of a stubborn streak to be a black belt. I think I fit that perfectly. I wasn’t going to let anything get in my way. I never thought that I wasn’t going to be a black belt. When I was eight years old and earned my yellow belt, I may have slept with it around my waist. When my original instructor moved out of the area, I worried that I might not get to black belt. Ultimately, my progress boiled down to searching out a new teacher and learning the last bit of material. I had grit, I wasn’t going to be deterred.

And so, as I grew older and matured, I wanted to perfect my Kenpo. I sought out Mr. Parker; I’d drive to the Bay Area or Sacramento to train with him. To me, Ed Parker was more than a man. He was a godlike creature. When he moved, he was like lightning. He would silence a crowd just with the aura he had when he entered a room. I remember stretching before a seminar one day, and I felt him walk in to the space. Sure, he was a master martial artist, but he was also a master communicator. I think that was even more crucial to his success than his physical skills. We were doing Lone Kimono at a seminar, and he had me demonstrate in front of the class. I told myself that this was Ed Parker; I needed to put some heat on the technique. I hit him hard on the first strike. He just smiled at me, said, “Do it again,” and grabbed me harder. His body language conveyed, “Okay, kid, calm down.” He’d demonstrate techniques that I previously thought I didn’t like, and suddenly, my mind would open. I’d understand. The way he moved was phenomenal. Watching old video of him today on You Tube doesn’t do him justice. Obviously, I have great respect for Ed Parker. But I don’t do things just because I’m told to do them. If someone told me that Mr. Parker said “xyz,” I’d ask: why did he say that? What is the principle he was trying to teach? What’s the idea? We need to use our own minds to reflect back on our own experiences, to think about body mechanics and physics, when we look at techniques.

That reflection has been crucial to Kenpo as a martial art. The system has changed considerably over time. Back in its early years, Kenpo was form-based like most other systems, and only a few of the techniques were numbered. Then, in the late 1960.s and early 1970s, Mr. Parker—along with Huk Planas and Tom Kelly—put names on all the techniques and assembled a teaching manual that became known as “Big Red.” After the franchising deal collapsed in the mid-1970s, and over the next twenty years through the passing of Ed Parker, many instructors changed techniques. So, we’ve seen Kenpo change since its beginning.

My Kenpo has also changed over the years—but always with an eye toward those original questions. I slowly made changes to our curriculum as I learned, back toward those original principles. I started training with Huk Planas in 1991. Huk is the most knowledgeable teacher I’ve ever trained with, and I’ve trained with them all. After Mr. Parker’s death, I made it a point to seek out all of the Sr. black belts to see who I wanted to study under, and although I respected many of them, no one had the knowledge of Huk Planas. He still continues to teach and amaze me. Because Huk helped write the teaching manual, he knows the techniques inside-out. He approaches the techniques as a scientific process; he knows why those techniques and forms were developed and all of their underlying principles. He always says that the student knows how to do the technique—but the teacher knows why. I trained with Frank Trejo, who geared his teaching toward boxing and point-fighting. His practical fighting experience made him a fantastic teacher. His love of the art and of people touched me deeply. My children especially felt a strong connection with Frank Trejo. The techniques I taught in 1986 look very different from the techniques I teach today.

Cross-training is important for the same reasons. Mr. Parker told Huk that he needed to go to a Shotokan dojo and train with them a bit. That way, when a Shotokan student walks into Huk’s school and wants lessons, Huk speaks a bit of their language. Huk trained with Dan Insanto years ago, and implemented that in his training. After I earned my black belt in Kenpo, I traveled to Okinawa with Pat Haley and was awarded a brown belt in Shorin-Ryu Karate. That experience helped me to advance my Kenpo with respect to the power I learned to generate. It also taught me even more Kenpo history. A lot of the initial moves in our techniques have been used in Karate for a very long time. I’ve added some of Huk’s Kali and Filipino martial arts to my war chest. One of my black belts is also a Jujitsu black belt who shares with us all of the time. Cross-training helps us think about some of the gaps and vulnerabilities in Kenpo when we face someone skilled in another art. Not only is this good for business—it’s good for your training as an artist.

But I’m unsure about implementing aspects of other martial arts into the American Kenpo system. When I teach my students, I teach the base techniques and forms the way they were originally taught. This way, my students can make their own changes to the techniques. Sure, Kenpo could be more marketable as a system without its all-too-often-overwhelming abundance of techniques. When I look at a Taekwondo school, I think, Oh, my god, I could make so much money with this. They don’t have to learn any techniques; they have to learn forms and spar a little. That business model is highly marketable. Kenpo is a sharp contrast. Students have to memorize and perform more than a hundred techniques to earn their black belt; that’s a heavy lift. The teaching manual offered a solid apparatus targeted towards young men (not kids) who were truly determined and dedicated to sticking it out—but that was and is a small percentage. Sparring is not necessarily good for business either. A lot of emotion can be out there on the mat when people are punching and kicking at each other. This is one of the times that children may start to cry, not just because of pain (injuries in sparring are very rare) but because of high emotion. It is hard for parents to see their children cry and our first reaction is usually to run to their rescue, but I normally ask parents to leave when their children burst into tears. This may sound harsh, but I would say that over 95% of the time the child will stop crying almost immediately after the parent leaves. Letting the child work through their emotions without the safety net of a parent close by is a great learning opportunity. They are forced to deal with the issues at hand when they realize that a parent won’t always be there to fix it for them. I would never take sparring out of our curriculum because I know that when I was young, my sparring techniques were my true self-defense because I couldn’t remember all of that material I was learning to get promoted. Also, sparring teaches anti-fragility, another key to success that many of today’s youth are lacking. I always make a speech to my students before they start fighting about how they are not made of glass; they must have the tenacity to continue fighting when things get rough. Whether a school succeeds or fails depends for the most part on the student pool, their end goals, and the teacher’s ability and willingness to get them there.

So, in addition to techniques, sparring, and forms, our school places a high value on respect as an end-goal. As a younger teacher, I didn’t push respect as much because I felt that teaching a child respect was the job of the parent. But now, I’m a parent myself. My two children, Taylor and Claire, were both accomplished athletes in high school, and they both earned their black belts in Kenpo. And I know from raising my kids, I can make any kid do whatever I want—except my own. But I had help from third parties: other black belts from the school, coaches, teachers, and youth leaders at our church. I think many parents who are looking for help with discipline need that third person who helps them and backs them up, who says No, this is how things are done. I know this is why many parents bring their kids to our school: they recognize that kids who have respect excel more than those who don’t. So, I need to be that third person for families. Even if kids can’t memorize the manual, they can learn respect. I also like to teach resilience in students and in parents. After a child hits their first “bump” in their training, whether it’s emotional or physical, helping the student make this first hurdle can be a huge life lesson. Teaching their parents to encourage the student to make that jump and not to quit is instrumental to success.

Principles like respect, resilience and self-confidence matter more than earning a rank. I’m an eighth-degree black belt, now. When people ask me if I’m going for higher rank, I tell them that when I was a kid, there was only one tenth-degree black belt. Now, there are nearly two-hundred tenth-degree black belts in Kenpo, so it’s kind of lost its sheen for me. I don’t wear my rank, I just wear a black belt. I hope that my knowledge and skill speak for themselves. I’m happy for my friends who have been promoted to tenth—but honestly, if I never got to that level, I’d be okay with it. Tom Kelley, another one of my Kenpo heroes, never accepted a rank over 9th. It’s more important for me to get kudos from my teachers and peers. I get acknowledgement from Huk; when Bob White calls me, I get an imaginary high-five. Frank Trejo once told me that I reminded him of himself when he watched me move. Being complimented on my training and earning respect from my peers and teachers means more to me than a belt.

Like Kenpo itself, those teachers and peers enrich my life. I’ve had important coaches in Mr. Parker, Huk Planas and Frank Trejo. I’m grateful to Bob White for including me on his Dream Team. He’s a stellar coach and a tremendous moving force in Kenpo, and a role model for us all—a prime example of a kenpoist who has taken what they learned and applied it to his life. His friendships, family, and marriage all flourish, his finances are in order, as well as his growing relationship with God. Angelo Collado is an exceptionally talented martial artist. I appreciate the way he trains and how he inspires others. I also appreciate and commend the extensive care he gave to Mr. Trejo at the end of his life. Angelo was there for Frank when I couldn’t be—when the family couldn’t be. Moreover, competing with Angelo over the years in tournaments has added immeasurably to the joy of my Kenpo journey. The laughs we have had have made competition that more enjoyable. Marty Zanovich is one of Huk’s students, and my brother in Kenpo. I truly respect Marty for how much he values being a father. His personality glows, and there’s no ego at all—and yet, he’s a badass. He’s immensely knowledgeable about Kenpo, and has trained with Dan Insanto, always looking to improve himself as a martial artist. There is a lot of distance between us with him living in Southern California and me up here, so I don’t get to see him as much as I would like, but when we do get together, we just pick right back up where we left off. These—and many other teachers and peers—have been instrumental in my Kenpo training.

Another key to my success has been to be lucky enough to have been picked by the right woman to share my life with, Lisa. We met in our early 20’s and are now preparing to celebrate our 25th wedding anniversary. Besides being beautiful, Lisa is one of the smartest people I know. Over the years, Lisa has worked with me at the karate school being my confidant and constant supporter. We have raised two children together while running our dojo, and while Lisa attended nursing school. Things have not always been easy; we’ve worked really hard. But our success has been based on the fact that we have always been best friends and supported each other through it all. I enjoy immensely looking back on the road we’ve walked and looking forward to the time we will still share together.

I sometimes wonder what direction my life would’ve taken had I not spent all these years studying and teaching the martial arts. A few years ago, my wife’s cousin got married back in Iowa. I went to that little, remote town and was forced to conclude that I would’ve gotten into a heap of trouble there out of sheer boredom. Without the marital arts, I wouldn’t be the same person I am today. Of course, I don’t always feel like training every day. But Bob White says, “Champions train even when they don’t feel like it.” All I have to do is start training, and everything starts flowing again. That work ethic kicks in; I start to make myself better. Continually redefining the relationship I have with the martial arts, even if it’s for a short time, makes me feel whole as a person—mentally, physically, and spiritually.

Another one of the benefits of running my school for the last 33 years is the relationships that I’ve built over the years. I can honestly say that besides my wife, my black belts are the best friends I’ve ever had. Our school feels like a family and my black belts are my brothers. They show me great respect as their teacher on the mat, but off the mat, we are once again equals. They are all professionals in their fields: doctors, lawyer, engineers, professors, you name it. When we are on the mat they call me Mr. Halsey, but if I ever visit them at their workplace where they are the expert, I would expect myself to show them the same amount of respect. I have seen martial arts instructors over the years that expect their students to revere them, and I don’t ever want to be that guy. They abuse the relationships they have and exploit their students. I feel that my job as a karate teacher is to help propel my students into being the best humans that they can be, not to have them there to cultivate my ego. Fortunately, time has taught me over the years that students know the difference, and will generally gravitate towards a nurturing teacher. Those students will later be extremely grateful and loyal. I feel totally fulfilled as a teacher because my students are continually showing me their gratitude. In fact, they recently honored me by presenting me with a new lineage patch, one that we can all wear that signifies the Parker/Planas/Halsey line of training. I have taught seminars at many locations including three tours in Germany. When I get to do a seminar elsewhere it is fun, but if I never do another seminar, I will still feel that what I have is enough. In fact, I am blessed to have more than most.

My most recent discovery about the martial arts is how it has kept me feeling young and in shape despite my 48 years on this earth. Of course there are times when I may feel my age. I don’t heal as fast as I used to, and my legs don’t quite respond as quickly as I would like when I’m kicking or rushing an opponent—but I’m not doing too bad. I can still give the kids a run for their money in the ring and I recently won Kenpo forms Grand Champion again at the Boston Internationals. My weight is under control, and I don’t have any major injuries. I am beginning to understand that staying mentally and physically sharp throughout a long life is the ultimate goal for an athlete, the Holy Grail. Sure, it would be nice to make millions as a professional athlete, but no amount of money or fame is worth the same as a body that can move and a mind that can think. I hope to one day in the far future have people look and me and still say, “Look at that old guy move!”

Kenpo Karate is empowering. It has empowered me throughout my life whether through gaining confidence as a child, athletic abilities as a young man, or through my relationships with people today. When I get down on my knees at church, I thank God for all of the great gifts that he has bestowed upon me, and I ask him to help me to be the man that he wants me to be. I believe that God has guided (at times thrown) me in certain directions. When I first walked into a karate dojo, was asked to start a school, and the day I met my wife were all times that God—or if you prefer “fate”—lead me down paths that would forever shape me into the man I am today, and the man I will be tomorrow. I hope to be a blessing to the world around me, and I know that Kenpo has given me the tools to hopefully fulfill this wish. Martial artists should be the best citizens, spouses and parents because we know what it is to work hard and sacrifice. We know that our efforts will be rewarded, and even better, reward the people and loved ones around us.

My favorite historical figure is Abraham Lincoln. No one really cares or talks about how much money he made as a successful lawyer in Illinois. What we remember is that he preserved the Union and made possible the 13th Amendment abolishing slavery. He used his brilliance to make the world around him a better place. So, too, are we all called.