We want to be cool, calm, and collected. Similar to the basketball team, we wish to build this intimidating, senior-like reputation, but evidently, this isn’t possible. All of our members are  approachable, welcoming, and always adrenalized. With the speakers blaring in an empty swimming pool, just the presence of five teammates could initiate a party. The upbeat music echoes louder than the coach’s instructions, and a few boys start jumping up and down endlessly. Although a single, mundane routine is repeated everyday, I never find myself fully adapting to the different mood—the enthusiasm—members bring to practice each day. It’s exactly one of the few places where I can truly be myself and know I won’t be deemed “weird” or “foolish.”

My first decision to join the Varsity Girls’ Swim Team was during my freshman year. After avoiding this sport due to my deteriorating scoliosis condition, I had finally received the consent to resume my hobby. Sliding back into the cold water after two years, I was ambivalent about giving this strenuous exercise another attempt. On one side, I feared that I wouldn’t be able to dedicate eight hours every week. On the other hand, whenever I came in contact with water, I began to reflect on my decisions. As I stroked my arms through the water, I recalled immaturely screaming at my mother for not preparing breakfast. I felt embarrassment. It was odd—the simple touch of water, in showers, baths, and practices, forced me to recall all of my past regrettable moments. 

Ultimately, unable to give up my passion for swimming, I became a member of the swim team. After a few practice races at school, Coach Pate announced that our first competition was in a few days, and I, the only freshman girl, was part of the Relay A Team. Thrilled but frightened, I was unsure if I could handle this burden all alone. The “friendly” meet was proof of our team’s potential for placing within third at the Korean-American Interscholastic Activities Conference (KAIAC). In fact, at the KAIAC competition, we placed third for the first time in our school’s history. Even better, during the Association of International Schools in Asia (AISA) tournament, the girls easily stole the First Place award from our rival schools. Labeled as a long-distance swimmer, I was urged to compete at a 400m freestyle event. From this point and on, I’ve continued to strengthen my endurance, for both my health and the team.  

In fact, not only the team, but the sport has also challenged me to take risks I’d never even imagined in the past. Tampons. They were my worst nightmare. In eighth grade, unpleasant rumors, that girls could lose their virginity using these plastic-wrapped cotton, roamed the halls. Barely anyone found them useful, and the topic was too taboo in Korea to consult with anyone. When I was encouraged to try a tampon for the first time, I sobbed alone in a locked bathroom stall. The result was a failure. I must confess that I considered quitting swimming at this time. Too many obstacles seemed to await me. However, the cycle coincidentally returned on my first swimming competition. Distressed and pressured, I was left in shock when the plastic slipped off effortlessly. Swimming has offered diverse opportunities I wouldn’t have undergone otherwise. 

Moreover, as a swimmer at Korea International School, I experienced several unexpected incidents. Here’s one similarity that the swim team shares with other sports teams: we have drama, especially “love” conflicts. Completely uninterested in loving relationships in my sophomore year, I burst out in laughter when an upperclassmen told me he was attracted to me. Only regarding him as a close friend, I opened my mind and made an effort to view him as a partner. Spending nights calling and texting him, I certainly gained a boost in my self-esteem with all his compliments. Realizing I was yet interested in another person, I honestly expressed my indifference. Rather than acceptance of my thoughts, all I received was his cold stare in the halls. Nonetheless, the drama was another learning opportunity to overcome small disputes and cope with mixed emotions. 

Most importantly though, I am no longer ashamed of being the only female senior swimmer on the team. Joining as an introverted freshman, I was hopeless about establishing new, strong relationships. However, in a month or two, upperclassmen comfortably conversed with me, often embracing me with a warm towel at swimming competitions. I feel as if I’ve gained more attention and love than I deserve, because I was the youngest member on the entire team. 

The swim team is one of the few athletics that bring both genders together. Through the tradition of going to a waterpark every summer, our team has built unbreakable bonds with one another. With no judgement, and solely joy, the swim team has grown from a formal athletics team to a caring family. In truth, nobody joins swimming for the sport, but because they miss the family.