What Is It Like to Be a Koi Fish Owner?

I was jealous of my fish. As ridiculous as it sounds, I was envious of how gracefully a fish can swim underwater. 

I crouched down in front of my fish after dropping the food pellets into the tank. My eyes traced the fish’s figure, mesmerized as its tail ever so gently brushed the edges of the water tank and flowed like silk in the translucent sky. Moreover, it doesn’t have to worry about high expectations regarding grades, college, or anything a typical Stuyvesant student would need to. Just fish, wandering freely inside the bowl. Ignorance is bliss.

Because I was never taught how to swim, I was assigned to take swim gym in the second semester of my freshman year. People say that freshman year is the hardest year because it’s a transition period from an average middle school to an academically rigorous high school. To be honest, learning how to swim was the real signal of that transition. 

The agonizing anticipation I felt as I prepared for my 10th period swim gym became a common feeling two to three days per week. The cold breeze stabbed into my lungs as I mentally prepared to jump into the painfully freezing water and face its grimy depths. I put both legs in the pool water, feeling the current pulls on my legs as if it wanted to swallow me. And then I jumped in. The water pressure hit me as if I slipped and fell onto hard concrete. Unlike a fish swimming around the tank, I stood in the “safe area” of the pool as I watched everyone else free-style and doggy paddle.

My swim gym teacher had assured me that it takes time to learn how to swim. I understood that, I really did. But it wasn’t pleasing to hear while I was constantly choking on chlorine and not being able to control my body enough to even save myself from drowning. After failing to do 10 accurate head bobbings in a row, I thought to myself, “How do my fish do this?”

Standing alone in the pool didn’t help either. The water was freezing, and the only way to warm up was to move, but I refused to move unless I had the railings in front of me. All I could do was stare at the rippling waves reflecting the white light above. My goggles weren’t prescription, so I could only see faint white strips shifting with the waves. And yet, my vision became blurrier. I felt a warmer sensation trickling down my face, and its source was not the pool. 

When I got home, my fish tank was always the first thing that caught my attention. I took off my shoes and heavy backpack filled with old assignments that I was too lazy to properly clean out. I pressed my hand against the cold glass, shivering from the fact that it reminded me of the cold pool. Except this time, it wasn’t as scary. As I dropped the food pellets into the tank, I began to inspect my fish more closely.

The English language only changes “fish” to “fishes” when referring to different kinds of fish. I actually have more than one, yet I see them as a uniform bundle. My fish, despite looking calm and peaceful, are always on the lookout for death. Just one mistake of jumping out of the tank can cost it its entire life. My mom always said that a fish that jumps out becomes a dragon, and I only believed her to relieve my guilt of accidentally killing a few from careless mistakes.

Fish are fragile despite being low-maintenance pets, and they cannot explore the real world like cats and dogs. I myself used to be scared of the real world, only focusing on my academics rather than joining extracurricular activities, to be within my comfort zone. Studying and learning are what I am familiar with, so why jump out of the tank and explore new things?

The reason why my fish are so prone to jump out of the tank is because of how small my tank actually is compared to their growing bodies. “A bundle of fish packed into a single tank must be suffocating,” I said to myself. I had begged my mom to buy a larger fish tank, but we cannot find one suitable for our apartment. It was as if my regrets and sorrows were bundled up inside the tank. No matter what I do, I can only let them stay put in one space where they cannot all fit. If I let them free to become dragons, I might only cause more harm to myself. Just as the fish would pass away, I would lose my temperament and ruin my relationships with others.

Maybe I’m not so different from my fish after all. My koi fish are gorgeous, but they are too vulnerable and fragile on their own. I watched them swim aimlessly, acknowledging each other yet unable to stay clear of bumping into each other. For these fish, there is nothing in the world except the tank and food, just as, for me, the world is nothing but academics and work.

However, that began to change in sophomore year. I began joining more clubs, partially due to the fear of missing out on what Stuyvesant has to offer. It was hard at first, but I slowly began to learn more about myself. My first extracurricular activity was volunteering at a marathon. It was honestly really fun despite having to wake up as early as 4:00 a.m. and rushing to pass the electrolytes to each participant. That experience set off my three-year long journey to volunteer and explore  other extracurriculars. In a way, I had jumped out of the tank and became a dragon.

On the last day of swim gym, I learned the proper way to freestyle. The water no longer felt like hard bedrock, but a piece of fabric I could run my fingers through. My body goes against the current, moving around as a fish would. I no longer needed the railing in front of me either as I had faith in myself to get back up. Once I felt the railing at my fingerprints, I pushed the water down to stand up. The water felt very warm. Unlike the me who cried in the cold corner of the pool, I was almost sweating from how many strokes it took to get from one place to another.

I had learned to never give up. At the start of second semester, I would not have believed the person I became at the end of the school year. It was all thanks to the determination to improve myself. This determination followed me into pursuing my extracurricular interests to discover my career goals and to make new friends. I was also able to finally find a good balance with academics and school.

When I look at my fish now, they could only mindlessly swim and play with the tank decoration for eternity. In a way, my fish gave me good fortune and hope of being able to swim properly while they stay in one spot as large as the tank. It is so strange to see how many challenges I have overcome and situations I have experienced compared to my fish. As a rising senior, I know what challenges lie ahead of me, and I will use the determination and strength to overcome them. 

I peeked into my fish tank, thanking them in my mind for being the first stepping stone of my high school journey.