The First Swim Lesson

This past Monday, I picked up my son from his grandparents’ house where he had slept over with his cousins, bright and early ready for our trip to the local YMCA for our first swimming lesson. When I picked him up, he was all smiles, ready with his gear, backpack, swim suit and eager expectation. For those of you that have had the pleasure of spending any amount of time around a 4 year old you will understand that the delicate balance between no fear, and extreme trepidation can manifest itself at any time or place. Trying new foods, experience a new environment, meeting a new person or, in our case, driving to our first swimming lesson.

Now, bear in mind that just a few weeks back, I had witnessed my son at a pool party, lined up to jump off the diving board, into the deep end of the pool, along with several teenagers who graciously cheered him on, made him feel like a big guy and gave him the space he needed to swim out of the way before they dove in themselves. No fear. This went on for a good 45 minutes until his mother insisted that he was tired and that we should move on to other activities.
Fast forward to this past Monday morning. As we pull out of the driveway and head toward the YMCA, I hear a faint voice in the back seat complaining that he did not “feel well.” I inquire as to what’s wrong. No response. We get on the phone with Mumma, no luck there either. Suddenly, the swimming lessons don’t seem like such a good idea. No amount of pushing, prodding, insisting was getting me anywhere. Bribery didn’t work either. Nada.

As we enter that strange place between sadness and tears, we reach a compromise. I suggest that we drive to the gym and determine once we get there if we think that we want to give the lessons a try. The suggestion receives a lukewarm response but is agreed too. We change, get ready and make our way into the pool. Fear and anxiety filled the eyes of my little guy with each step we took. The same little guy who was launching himself off a diving board weeks before without hesitation or self doubt. We run into some friends who help us get past the initial shock of where we were and what we were there to do. We borrow some swimming goggles and wait patiently. As the group of 12 four and five year olds begins to assemble, my little guy makes his way to the group and the class begins. The instructors walk the group through a set of exercises and drills; going under water, swimming out to fetch a rubber ducky and as I sit back and watch, I see something amazing happen. The fear, anxiety, trepidation begin to disappear. The emotional gap is filled with recognition, reward and triumph. I see my little guy begin to create new friendships, form alliances and find himself enjoying every moment of the experience.

And then it dawns on me.

How is this any different than what happens in our schools? I consider the teacher who is anxious about learning a new technology, or the boarding student that finds herself half way across the world in a strange place, or the math student who just doesn’t seem to get quadratic equations. It isn’t any different. Schools, by their very nature ask all members of the community to push themselves outside their comfort zone. Either by starting a new initiative, or embarking on a new strategic plan, or trying a new lesson. Students are asked to stand on the edge of the pool practically every day in subjects that they don’t naturally gravitate towards, or find themselves gifted in. And yet, how often do we take the time to step back and consider that sometimes, all it takes is the willingness to meet one another half way. Insisting that my little guy go to the swim lesson, forcing him to participate or removing him from the decision making process would have at the least, made for a miserable morning and at the worst, tainted his love of the water.

Recognize, challenge, support and praise one another. Be patient and aware of the moment, and the lessons won’t seem so daunting.