The only sounds that make it over the roar of the boat’s motor come from the surrounding people shouting at each other about the logistics of the dive. As the choppy water heaves him up and down, our dive master draws on a map, belting his voice about where the sharks like to swim and how many feet underwater we will be. I scan for my equipment—my mask sits atop my oxygen tank alongside my Buoyancy Control Device (BCD). I check my fins under the bench and glance at my dive watch. Finally, the boat slows to a murmur and we start to put on our gear. We’ve already double-checked our gear on the boat, but I make sure everything is secure and tightened. Looking out, all I can see are the endless crystal blue waters; vessels of the unknown reside beneath the surface.

After inflating my BCD, I step over the edge of the boat, hitting the water. Our group swims around the coral that the company has mapped out for us. The sharks start coming out all around us: above me, behind me, to my side. I see stingrays and fish swimming about the coral as well, but my mind is definitely more occupied by the presence of the Caribbean reef sharks circling us. As one approaches me, I rest motionless as a member of our group snaps a picture of the 9-foot animal grazing me as it passes. I am close enough to see the way its light gray eyes stare back at me in peculiarity, and how the swish of the caudal fin in an easeless back-and-forth motion propels this fish through the water as all other organisms clear a path. 

I have to stay focused on my movements as I’m diving. I watch my buoyancy, trying to get it perfect so I don’t have to move and disrupt the creature in its home, where I am merely a guest. Not only that, but I constantly keep tabs on how much oxygen I have left in my tank while admiring the fearless gray fish weaving amongst me. While underwater, it is a critical skill to manage multiple requirements at once, thus keeping me present and focused with my surroundings. 

Besides the fact that I can breathe underwater, diving allows me to see things that I would never be able to see unless looking at photos. Amusement is something I never fall short of, as I enjoy observing various things that I’m not accustomed to above-water. What are these different fish? What are these different types of coral? Through diving and my first-hand encounters with organisms and the reefs, my experience enhances knowledge by further guiding me to question new ideas I would not have considered through a simple internet search. Previously, I associated sharks as threatening; but, it was not until after my leisurely swim with the animals that I grasped an understanding of their docility and general sense of curiosity—the same sense of curiosity that led to my own research of sharks. 

My knowledge isn’t limited to research and facts I hear from other people—I have my own narrative. Because of my experience scuba diving, when learning anything, I need to be 60-feet under with the sharks, metaphorically speaking. Swimming with them cautions me, as a knower, to question what I learn and the source of the information. Remembering the initial fear I had of the unknowns within the ocean and its inhabitants, I can now concur that diving has taught me that no education is complete without direct experience. No matter what I pursue in the future, being face-to-face with an alleged antagonist has enlightened me towards the notion that I need to venture into the unknown and uncomfortable to form personalized understandings, building my own story that I can articulate and share.