"Boom boom"
Brandon Muri
Issue date: 10/11/07 Section: Focus
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"Why you doin' that?" a barrel-chested man approaches his students. "Why you doin' that?" he asks again.
Tae Kwon Do students are in the middle of a kicking exercise, garbed in traditional uniform. They listen as he corrects their techniques and warns about complacency.
"You've got to advance yourself - I'm not gonna hold your hand," he says.
Brian Anderson '79, or Master Anderson to his students, stands short and wide. He walks heavily leaning on a cane - a bum knee.
The class meets in a small dance studio tucked behind Jesse Philips Arena, the same room in which Anderson took his first Tae Kwon Do class 32 years ago as a Hillsdale College student.
After seeing a friend practicing in his dorm room, Anderson was hooked. By the end of his sophomore year, he was made an assistant Tae Kwon Do instructor for the school.
"They called us part-time professors back then," he said.
He allows the highest ranking student to run the basic drills as he supervises from his office window, occasionally hauling himself from his chair to shout instructions.
"I don't want to see any of this," Anderson said, demonstrating a block with his hand limp and flapping. "You've got to take the kick like this - and then give something back - boom boom." He gives two sharp punches illustrating his point.
He's taught for 32 years and says the most rewarding thing isn't the money, the trophies or the belts.
"I like to see my students' progress. It's like taking a piece of clay and molding it into something beautiful," he said. "The trophies don't mean anything to me."
Junior David Stehlik, who trained with Anderson for a year and a half recognizes Anderson's abilities.
"He is a technician in the truest sense of what that means - I have never seen a martial artist in real life, or the movies, with the same speed and accuracy in executing moves," Stehlik said. "Every time he uses me for a demonstration, I trust him, but I almost go into shock because he exudes this presence of authority and power - like I know he could kill me if he wanted to, but I trust him and I know I'm safe."
Tae Kwon Do students are in the middle of a kicking exercise, garbed in traditional uniform. They listen as he corrects their techniques and warns about complacency.
"You've got to advance yourself - I'm not gonna hold your hand," he says.
Brian Anderson '79, or Master Anderson to his students, stands short and wide. He walks heavily leaning on a cane - a bum knee.
The class meets in a small dance studio tucked behind Jesse Philips Arena, the same room in which Anderson took his first Tae Kwon Do class 32 years ago as a Hillsdale College student.
After seeing a friend practicing in his dorm room, Anderson was hooked. By the end of his sophomore year, he was made an assistant Tae Kwon Do instructor for the school.
"They called us part-time professors back then," he said.
He allows the highest ranking student to run the basic drills as he supervises from his office window, occasionally hauling himself from his chair to shout instructions.
"I don't want to see any of this," Anderson said, demonstrating a block with his hand limp and flapping. "You've got to take the kick like this - and then give something back - boom boom." He gives two sharp punches illustrating his point.
He's taught for 32 years and says the most rewarding thing isn't the money, the trophies or the belts.
"I like to see my students' progress. It's like taking a piece of clay and molding it into something beautiful," he said. "The trophies don't mean anything to me."
Junior David Stehlik, who trained with Anderson for a year and a half recognizes Anderson's abilities.
"He is a technician in the truest sense of what that means - I have never seen a martial artist in real life, or the movies, with the same speed and accuracy in executing moves," Stehlik said. "Every time he uses me for a demonstration, I trust him, but I almost go into shock because he exudes this presence of authority and power - like I know he could kill me if he wanted to, but I trust him and I know I'm safe."
2008 Woodie Awards
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