54) Fire Against Fire

Everybody has some sense of what the calm before the storm is. Whether it be a stop in the wind, or a anxious wait before going on stage, everybody knows the feeling.

Some people love it. A nervous and fleeting second where your body trembles in anticipation, waiting for the event to come. Depending on the situation, you might be smiling, you might be praying, or even crying.

It's the feeling you get as your heart races before stepping on stage to the welcoming applause. It's the steady anticipation of running from cover to the rain because you have no umbrella. It's the tilt of your eyes as you stare intently at the screen for the opening kick off at the Super Bowl.

This time tested moment is experienced by every person at least once in their lifetime, a trial of nerves that can leave a person speechless and unable to move.

The calm before the storm, as it were.

Sometimes it lasts for seconds, minutes, or even days. The prior knowledge of what is to happen next is either embroiled with cheery excitement or dreadful pessimism. Some are crushed by the weight of the moment, dissolving into a mess of tears and hyperventilation.

Others step up to the challenge, hiding their fear away from their otherwise careful observers. They know peers will look upon them, judging them at every step. Inside, they scream as they charge into the fray.

It's in our blood. Our humanity demands that we experience nervousness and anxiety. Our parents and their fathers have felt the same, whether it be before speaking on a podium, or banging their swords against shields as the battle line forms.

It is this immense anxiety that grips the young as they dive into school every year. As my educational journey takes another progressive step, I am beginning to feel the calm.

It's hard to pin it down. Humanity aside, I have no reason to feel this way. Along with my peers, we've all done this multiple times before. More times than can be mentioned. We know there is nothing to be worried about. We know exactly where to go and what to do.

But for a young sire like me, it all becomes subjunctive.

I learned how to deal with it in my own way a long time ago. Even as a young child, I would play it in my head over and over again as an act of inevitability. It was like pieces on a chessboard, waiting to be moved for the game ahead. My mind knew exactly how to metaphorize the journey ahead.

For me, school became war.

In third grade, I was a knight against dragons.

In fifth grade, I became Norman Cavalry at Hastings.

In eighth grade, I was an American GI on D-Day.

In eleventh grade, I became a fighter pilot for the Invictan Response Force Air Force.

Through this, alot of people are often cautious, even scared by the military vibe I give off. I don't care to try and explain to them that I don't see school the way they do.

I see a large battlefield of swords when I walk out into the hallway at the lunch bell. When a teacher gives out instructions, I see a mission briefing. When the class falls silent under the stress of work, I see a command center of people screaming into their mikes as soldiers fall not more than a few miles away.

Don't get me wrong, I still know how to separate myself from this delusional fantasy I indulge in. If anything, this makes my school days much more bearable and interesting. It makes me actually want to be in a classroom. Assignments become a serious matter of life and death. It's a justification to stay in hell.

Because, well, you fight hell with hell. Fire with fire.

You can laugh at me, pity me all you want. But the truth is that we all need our coping mechanisms. When someone dies, we cry. When somebody is born, we cry.

When somebody goes into hell, they fight.

So waiting for another school year that's about to come doesn't seem so bad. Sure, I can feel the anxiety and the shakes, but it's all the calm before the storm. I'm just waiting for another year-long war to fight. This is how I survive.

This year, I think I'll be an ODST.