Way of Hand and Foot By Beau Heese, grade 7, Missouri. The judges call my name, and I walk to the ring. As I stretch, kicking the open air in front of me, I look at my opponents, and I analyze their technique. Some are flexible, strong, or quick, but we all have one constant—we have trained for years. The judges call my name, and I step forward. I nervously step into the square ring, and they call in who I will be sparring. As I see my opponent, my nerves... leave. Why now, right before the match? As I meet the eyes of the person across from me, I see a child, a student, me. We are equals. We bow, always keeping eye contact. And when the judges say go, we begin. But it is not a disorganized fight. It is a dance, a tango, of sorts. As we shift around the red mot, striking, kicking, blocking, I forget about the world outside. The judges, the scorekeepers, the other competitors, all melt away. I enter into a new world, a world born out of our dance, a world in which we are the only two beings, and where our fight is the only truth. A new reality. Suddenly, a buzzer sounds, and I am pulled away as quickly as I arrived. The match is over. But I am not satisfied. And when I return to my seat, all I can think about is my next trip to this strange new world. By Beau Heese, grade 8, Missouri. Beau adds, "While writing this piece, I realized how everyone can see the world so differently, especially in their teenage years. I hope the poem will show them that everyone has their own blessings and problems. Perhaps, it will help others accept different views better."