I sit on the sidelines during swim lessons and look at my phone and thumbs up and fake smile, but I am tense and cringing the entire time.
My kids are fearful of water. Plain and simple. I know this about them and I respect it. I have never forced them to step outside their comfort zone until now, because I know swimming is a survival skill they must have and they’re old enough now to understand that.
After describing their level of experience swimming (none), they were put into a class with three other kids under the supervision of one, young instructor.
This must be a summer job for him…he’s awfully young.
As I watch him with the girls I try not to critique his teaching style. He’s young, he’s making some money, and he’s probably the captain of the high school swim team. He’s FINE.
But who taught him how to teach kids to swim? Do they need credentials? Does he understand, sense, or care that all of these kids learn at different levels?
I hush the questions in my head because one of my very best friends was a swim instructor and I know I’m being that parent he can’t stand. It doesn’t take a whole lot of talent to stand in 3 feet of water with kids and keep them alive.
I watched him move the class from 3 feet to 4 feet and even though Laina was at least ten feet behind the group I bit my tongue.
She can do it.
She hip-hopped on her toes keeping her chin just barely above the water. She flailed her arms and tried to keep up. She slowly, but surely found her way back to the group and I exhaled. Five minutes later she was sitting at my side crying. She had swallowed some water, spit up in the pool, and refused to get back in.
Seemed like a lot to expect from her when this was her first time ever moving from one end of the pool to the other end unaccompanied.
Today it was more of the same. I told the girls if there was anything they didn’t want to do, that they were in control of themselves and could simply tell their instructor “no thank you” if they felt uncomfortable. Ironically I want them to have the power to say no, but I’m forcing them to swim lessons when they’ve made it clear they don’t want to go. Color me hypocritical.
Sure enough, when it came time to “swim” from one end of the pool to the other Laina gave her “no thank you” and the instructor told her she could go sit with her Mom.
I wonder if he knows that’s exactly what she wants to do…this really isn’t a punishment if that’s what he’s going for. And I wonder why simply walking to the end or waiting for the next activity isn’t an option for her. Why is the ultimatum “do this exercise or get out of the pool and learn nothing”? He hears a child telling him she’s uncomfortable and she’s being removed. Is there not another exercise she can do until they’re ready to move on?
You know some people just have their own style of teaching. Some people think kids are full of it and that threatening to leave them out will cause them to agree to try. Maybe he thought Laina wouldn’t like the option of sitting out and instead would agree to swimming across the pool. I give the guy the benefit of the doubt even though I’m annoyed that my daughter could be learning something about swimming, but instead is whimpering next to me on the bench.
I go back to pretending not to be a hovering mother. But I’m hovering. In my mind.
The next exercise involves kids pushing off of one wall and swimming to the next. It’s not as far as the entire length of the pool, but when you CAN’T SWIM it doesn’t really make a difference.
Maile takes off second, and he moves down the line to help swimmer #3 and #4…but I keep my eyes on Maile…who is drowning by the way. I’m sandwiched between kids and behind another parent and I see Maile go under and back up. Her instructor is with another child at a different wall and I’m glancing between the two wondering if he’s seeing what I’m seeing. She comes up, flails arms…goes down…comes up, flails arms…goes down, and I see him glance and that “oh shit” look registers on his face.
You know the look.
It’s the same look that registers on your face when you realize you sent a child to time out and thirty minutes later, after finishing the dishes and talking to your mom on the phone, you realize he’s still there.
The “oh shit” face registers, my daughter goes under under under and I go leaping like a mother Gazelle to her young in about .5 seconds flat. Maile starts coughing, dry heaves, and begins to cry. Part of me wants to pull her out at this point, but I realize how important it is for her to hurdle past that scary moment.
When I collected her together in her towel at the end of class she broke down in sobs.
I know the instructor is probably a lovely young guy. Maybe he’s sees things like that a lot and knows it’s all a part of learning to swim. Kids don’t drown in swim lessons. But as a mother? I can’t handle that shit.
And this is me whining like a five year old…I don’t wanna go baaackkk…please don’t make me!