Anthozoa

I remember the first day of 2nd grade like it was yesterday. My family and I had just moved to Florida because of my dad’s job. New school. New kids. New life. I was nervous, shy, and naïve about the world around me. But as soon as I stepped into Mrs. Motts’ room, my uncertainty was quickly replaced with curiosity.

I obnoxiously pointed to the back of the classroom and asked, “What’s that?”

Mrs. Motts looked at me and smiled, “That’s an aquarium and there’s fish in there. Would everyone like to go check it out?”

Kids belted out ya’s and uh-huh’s but I didn’t say a word. My feet answered for me as I made my way to the back of the class to be front and center with the big blue box. Classroom chitter-chatter quickly became background noise, as I focused on one fish in particular. Its nose was much longer than the other fish. Its face was both white and black and the rest of its body was bright yellow. I pushed my finger on the glass and it seemed to dance at my touch, moving away from me.

“Woah,” I said out loud.

“That’s a Yellow Longnose Butterflyfish,” Mrs. Motts said.

Mrs. Motts was tall, and it felt like forever until I met her eyes with mine. I instantly was pulled back into the loud chattering of the classroom and noticed that I was the last kid standing in front of the aquarium. My face turned red and hot.

“Oh. That makes sense because its nose is really long,” I said.

Mrs. Motts nodded and put her hand on my shoulder, “It’s time for us to find our seats. Look for a desk with your name-card on it.”

With that, I darted to the front of the classroom, starting with the seat closest to Mrs. Motts’ desk, going up and down the aisles. Finally, in the middle of the classroom, was a desk with my name-card on it. K-e-l-l-y. Kelly. That’s me. I looked over at the big blue box and longed for a seat near it. I guess this would have to do for now.

I think Mrs. Motts knew how upset I was because before I could sit down, she sat up from her desk and said, “Oh Kelly. I must have made a mistake.” She pulled up her clipboard and took a closer look at it.

“Oh dear. Yes, you have a seat in the back. Silly me.” She rushed on over to the desk in the very back corner and pulled the chair out, “Right here.”

I could feel my smile go from ear to ear as I proudly walked over to the back and sat down in my very own desk next to the aquarium. All my worries went away, and curiosity was now replaced with excitement.

Every day that week, I’d come in just a little bit earlier before most kids had arrived to see Mr. Big-Nose; which is what I secretly named him.

One day, Mrs. Motts approached me and said, “Did you know that all fish have scientific names?”

I looked at her confused, “Scientific names?”

Mrs. Motts smiled, “For instance, the Yellow Longnose Butterflyfish is also referred to as a Forcipiger Flavissmus”. It sounded so silly and cool at the same time.

“Why?” I asked.

“Scientists give them a special name to make it easier to identify them. Anyone who studies fish will know exactly what fish you’re talking about if you say ‘Forcipiger Flavissmus’,” Mrs. Motts said.

Looking back at Mr. Big-Nose I asked, “So is it like a secret language for scientists?”

Mrs. Motts nodded, “Yeah, you could say that.”

As we were talking, I spotted another fish in the tank. Its body was shaped way differently than any other fish, as it was upright. Its nose was also kind of long and it had lumps and bumps all over it. I pointed, “What’s that one?”

Mrs. Motts bent down to get a closer view of the tank and then looked at me from the corner of her eye and said, “I have an idea, Kelly.”

Kids started piling into the classroom and I knew our conversation was coming to an end - even though I didn’t want it to. I wanted to stay there and learn all the names of the fish in the aquarium and the ones scientists give them too.

“Ok. What is it, Mrs. Motts?” I asked.

“How about for every fish I give you the name of, the following day you have to give me a fact about that fish. Does that sound like a deal?” Her eyes were big with excitement and encouragement.

I pondered on this for a minute and then said, “Ok. I’ll do it!”

She propped herself back up, pointed, and said, “That fish is a seahorse,” and then walked away.

As soon as school was over, I rushed to the car and told mom all about our deal that me and Mrs. Motts had. Mom liked the idea too and said we could get on the computer when we got home to get more information on the seahorse.

When we got home, I ran through the front door and down the basement steps. My older brother was playing mindless games on it and I got bummed really quick. I stomped my foot and threw my backpack on the ground, “Richie, get off!”

Richie turned around in the desk chair to face me and then put his middle finger in my face, “Go away, dork.”

Again, I stomped, but with both feet this time. He needed to know how serious this was, “You’re always on the computer! Mom said it’s my turn.”

Richie turned around and didn’t say anything else and I blew raspberries at him. Mom came downstairs and said, “Let your sister on the computer. She’s right; it’s her turn.”

He rolled his eyes and mumbled something under his breath and stomped up the steps. Mom waved her hand at him as if to say, “forget about him”. I plopped down on the big chair at the desk and mom pulled another chair next to me. She then opened up a browser and told me that I could search for anything I wanted. I paused for a moment because I didn’t really know how to spell seahorse. Mom knew what I was thinking because then she said, “C’mon you know this. It’s two words. Sea and Horse. If you put them together, they make one word!”

I hovered my hands over the keyboard and very slowly typed S-E-A-H-O-R-S-E. I turned around to look at mom for approval, who then gave me a thumbs up. ENTER.

Familiar images popped up of the fish in Mrs. Motts classroom. They all looked a little different because the one in Mrs. Motts’ tank was yellow, but the ones on the computer were all sorts of colors: red, brown, and white with black polka dots! I couldn’t believe my eyes and the first thing I clicked on were images. I just wanted to see as many as I could and completely flood my mind with pictures of these creatures.

After scrolling through some images, I clicked on the back arrow to return to some of the web pages that came up from my search and selected the first page. The first thing I saw made me laugh so hard and loud that mom asked me what was so funny.

“Mom! They’re fish and they aren’t good swimmers!” Again, I started laughing.

“It’s like if Mrs. Motts was a bad teacher, but she’s a teacher!” I held my belly like Santa does when he belts out his laugh.

After I cooled off a bit, I found myself wanting to know more than just this one fact. Clicking through different web pages, I grabbed a piece of paper and started a list of the facts I found:

1. Seahorses aren’t good swimmers because they only have 1 tiny fin to help them swim.

2. Seahorses have good eyesight and can look at 2 things at the same time.

3. Boy seahorses GIVE BIRTH to their babies!!!

It was so much fun learning about all the things seahorses do and I think mom enjoyed learning about them too. But the fun stopped suddenly and abruptly. The last page I pulled up made my heart sink. It was titled “Seahorses Need Our Help”. It talked about how our litter ends up in the oceans and destroys the coral reefs they live in. It also said something about how humans poor habits are causing the planet to be warmer and coral reefs can’t live through the temperature rises. Due to these problems, it’s caused devastation to the seahorse population, along with other sea creatures. It was just so sad to read. I wrote it down as one of my facts and then turned the computer off; I couldn’t stand to read much more.

The next day, Mrs. Motts asked me about the fact that I found. I told her I found more than 1 and gave her my entire list. Her eyes showed a bit of surprise. As she was reading it, I said, “The last one makes me real sad.” I slumped my shoulders and walked on over to the aquarium to look at Mr. Big-Nose and Mr. Bad-Swimmer. But I didn’t just look at them, I looked at the coral reef that was in the tank too.

“Oh yes. It is sad. Lots of sea creatures depend on coral reefs to survive and if coral reefs are dying, so are the populations that inhabit them,” Mrs. Motts said in a low voice.

I threw my arms up in the air and said, “But what can we do? What can I do?”

“Well you can start off by never littering. Spread the word and let others know it isn’t good for our oceans or any body of water for that matter. I’m sure the fish in the lake don’t like it just as much as the fish in the ocean,” she said as a matter-of-factly.

I nodded my head, still fixated on the tank. Mrs. Motts then sat next to me and said, “There’s good news though. There are people whose entire job it is to study fish and help save the coral reefs. Isn’t that cool?”

I perked up and asked, “And, who are these people?”

Mrs. Motts smiled and said, “Those crazy scientists who give all the fish scientific names. Marine Biologists to be exact”.

I went quiet, staring at Mr. Bad-Swimmer, focused on every move he made. Mrs. Motts broke the silence and said something that lit a flame inside me, “You could be a Marine Biologist, Kelly. You could help.”

Mrs. Motts will never know what she did for me that year. Honestly, she probably doesn’t even remember me because I was just another one of her many students. But she sparked a passion in me that I never gave up on. Not through middle school, not through high school, and not through college.

“Kelly! Let’s go. We haven’t got all day,” shouted Mark, my boss, who instantly took me out of my 2nd grade classroom and back into the real world.

“Yeah, yeah,” I said. I pulled up my snorkel mask and took a dive into the ocean. Swimming deep, deep down. While I’ve done this a hundred times before, this dive was different than the rest. This was the dive that Mrs. Motts and I had talked about. The one where I could help. The Great Barrier Reef expanded beyond the ocean sea floor, much farther than the eye could see. I knew it was big, but this was both magnificent and devastating at the same time. Some parts were white and dormant, with no life. While others were colorful, vibrant, and full of active wildlife.

I approached the sea floor, completed all safety procedures, and gave a thumbs up to Russell, my co-diver. Then I did what I always do; close my eyes shut for a moment to feel the ocean carry me and hear the sounds of wildlife doing what it does best – be wild. Then I opened my eyes, looked down and saw a Hippocampus Heptagonus-Rafinesque right in front of me.

A seahorse.