What I Wish The Parents Of My Swim Students Knew

1. Please buy a swimsuit that fits your child correctly (and is made for swimming, not looking cute). This means a snug-fitting, one-piece suit (a suit with raceback straps like this one is awesome!). Two-piece suits are adorable but the absolute worst. One-piece suits with flouncy skirts (like this one) are also cute, but they make it hard for the child to see what their legs are doing. It's the most frustrating thing in the world to try to teach a child to swim who must constantly adjust the straps, waist, etc (we often ask each other, "Can't the parents, who are watching from the stands, see what a hassle it is?!"). I know it's tempting to get the next size up to try to save a little money (kids grow fast!), but it's not worth the wasted time.
Also, if you intend to have your child in swim lessons (or any other water-sport) for awhile, you need more than one suit, I promise. What happens when it's January, there are no suits in the stores, and your child's swimsuit suddenly falls apart (it happens) or is misplaced? A water aerobics teacher told me once that the rule of thumb for swimsuits is that if you're in the water more than twice a week, you'll probably need a new suit every 12 weeks or so.
If your child frequently complains about being cold, consider getting them a rashguard (Lands End sells lovely ones for both boys and girls, but even the cheapest neoprene rashguards will help immensely).

2. If your child's hair is long enough to reach their eyes when wet, tie it back before sending them to class. (Little girls AND little boys.) Better yet, get them a swim cap (and learn how to put it on: have the child hold the "front edge" of the cap with both hands very near their forehead; count "one, two, three!" and stretch the "back edge" of the cap back toward the nape of their neck. Tuck any loose hairs into place. If you have a little girl, put her hair back in a bun at the back of her head before putting on the cap).
I taught a little girl over the summer whose thick hair - no kidding - reached below her waist. The parents never pulled it back, so after trying for several lessons to get her to blow bubbles, and having her panic every time her hair covered her nose and mouth, I got into the habit of braiding her hair before taking her into the pool. (I did often wonder why her parents, who could clearly see her lessons, never bothered with this step themselves lol.)

3. Don't buy cheap goggles. The best goggles don't have Disney or Marvel characters on them. ;) Make sure they're sized for your child's age (child, youth, etc) and pick ones with a solid nosepiece (like these) and not an adjustable one (like these). (By the way, that first pair is my absolute favorite kind to put on little swimmers, and they're the ones I snap up on clearance to stock the swim bag with!) A pair with divided straps (like the first) is better than one without. If you have a very young child, invest in a pair of Frogglez. You can also try a hybrid swim mask if they have trouble getting a good fit - these cover a little more surface area so sometimes they work better for small faces - but DON'T buy a snorkeling mask that covers the nose. The first and most important skill when learning to swim is learning to control your breath, which is impossible to do if your nose is covered.
Teach your child to hold the goggles over their eyes while you (or their coach, etc) adjust the straps. There's less chance of injury this way, and you'll get a better fit. After they're done swimming, gently rub a little lotion, hair conditioner, etc over the inside of the lens, and swish it off in the water (don't rub!) before the next swim to maintain an anti-fog coating.

4. Don't send your child to class wearing jewelry, a watch, or, heaven forbid, toting a toy. It's hard to get small children to focus in the best conditions. At best, your child will be distracted, at worst the coach will spend precious class time fishing a lost charm out of the filter amid tears. If the coach wants to use toys to help your child learn to swim, they will provide some. Otherwise, send your child to lessons without accessories!

Everything's Going Swimmingly!

- I hate to say that there's nothing going on in my life right now, but really, there's nothing going on in my life right now. Except swim. I'm pretty much just loving through the everyday rhythm of life right now and loving it.

- Last Monday (the first day of our new session) I got an email from my boss saying my advanced coach - the one I've been shadowing whenever I have a chance, the one I've learned so much from, the one I bring my stupid questions to, the one who covers four of my six advanced classes each week and SIGNIFICANTLY reduces my stress level - was "out." Did I have a backup plan for the class?
I completely freaked out. What does "out" mean? Does "out" mean he quit? And if so... (cue instant panic attack)
(This was probably due in part to the fact that a few weeks ago we had a rough week and he looked a bit frustrated by the end of it, and one of the moms casually remarked, "Gosh, I hope he doesn't quit!" And even though I knew he wouldn't quit over one bad week, I would really, really hate to lose him.)
But as it turns out, "out" really meant "sick" so I calmed down. But really, though. NEVER DO THAT TO ME AGAIN.

- One of my coaches also didn't show up for their class on Wednesday and it was absolute chaos. I guess I should add that even in the midst of it, I dimly had the thought, "Huh, last year I xoukd have been absolutely hyperventilating by this point, so I think I'm getting better at this..." but still. Stressful. My coaches were troopers, though, and totally hung in there!

- Speaking of which... I have the best team this year. At the beginning of the season I dealt with some issues I had with one of my coaches, and while it was stressful and I still hate conflict and all that, the resulting peace means that everyone - everyone! - on the team is awesome to work with. There are no unmotivated people here. This is such a change from last year, and I can only imagine it probably won't happen again, so I'm relishing it while I can.

- I had a kid arrive for class last week, remember that she'd been promoted into the next station, and burst into tears. She was scared to go to her new class. I sat on the bleachers with her and we watched the new class for awhile, and after a bit she decided to give it a try, and ten minutes later when I walked the deck, she looked up at me beaming and exclaimed, "I LOVE station 4!" :) Made my heart happy. (The joy, not the crying lol)

- I had another kid show up who'd just had a flu shot. She was whining a bit about how she couldn't swim that day because her leg hurt, she'd just gotten the flu shot, etc, and she explained to me how the flu shot meant she now couldn't get the flu.
"So you're invincible now, like Superwoman," I told her. What did invincible mean, she wanted to know. I told her it meant that nothing could stop her (like the flu).
Her eyes got big. "I guess I AM like Superwoman!"
Her mom asked, "Are you going to do ten bobs today?"
(We've been trying to get her to do ten bobs forever.)
She looked at me. "Do you think Superwoman could do ten bobs?"
I assured her she could.
Ten minutes later the coach called me over and told me that she wanted to show me her ten bobs. She did them perfectly.
"That's awesome!" I told her. "I guess you really are like Superwoman today! Now you can work on floating!"
"Do you think Superwoman can float?"
(You'd better believe she can!)

"Swim Your Own Race"

by Mbali Vilakazi

There is life here

Beneath the surface tension

of shattered

bones, dreams and splintered muscles

things broken

and those that may never be replaced.

Pulling the weight of it,

you do not tread the water wounded

and in retreat

By the determined strokes of fate

you swim your own race

The shoulder of your strength leaning

against the turn --

the eye that didn’t see that day,

stopping the clock on the vision of your time.

You continue to beat

into the heart of the spectacle

Manchester City, Beijing, Athens and London.

In no ordinary silence

do we watch

our own feared hopes waking

enthralled

and now, breathless

in awe --

you are unforgettable.

Woman of scars, and triumph

the dance is fluid

unexpected

tears of loss flowing

towards your many firsts

You are the Order of Ikhamanga

in gold.

A flower,

beautiful and unique

among the baobabs of the land

Your shape shifting

The disabled-abled body

A quest

untempered by its tests --

“if you want to get there, you go on”

You have already won

You always do

And we do too

We are the believers.

The message in its possibility:

A new freestyle,

Long distance

And in your own lane.

This Week

- Survived week one, sense of humor and stress levels (mostly) in hand. Gosh, I missed this!!! Got to coach four times (once covering for a coach who didn't show, once because I was training a late hire, and twice with the advanced class), and got in the water to soothe two criers. ;) Also had one parent bring their hysterical child to me while I was trying to coach the advanced class and demand that I calm her down "because you're the only one who can get her to stop crying when she's like this." (I did, within thirty seconds. I was so glad to see her again I wasn't even annoyed, more amused.) I learned all the names of my new coaches (after failing spectacularly at this on Saturday, so badly that my boss tried to help me out). I've written two thank-you notes already to coaches who helped me deal with especially difficult or trying kids (and I need to write a third tomorrow, to the team in general, for surviving the first week). I also got a good start on learning all the names of my new kids this session (trying to get back to my goal of knowing everybody's name and face).
All in all, a good week. :)

- The triplets and I are finishing our second week of "tot school" and this week we've been focused on the letter B and the color blue, with an "All About Me" theme (we've done lot of name-recognition games, traced our bodies on the driveway to decorate with chalk, and measured everyone with a yardstick). (Last week was A and red, with a "back to school" theme). We also went to storytime on Thursday since the pool is closed for maintenance; L completely closed up and sat on my lap the whole time, A sat by herself but refused to participate, and M jumped in wholeheartedly and seemed to have a great time. Hoping that the girls will warm up a bit as it becomes more familiar.

- This week was really exhausting as I jumped back in to my new Autumn schedule for the first time... it's not necessarily harder or busier than last year, but it's definitely got a much different rhythm to it, and I was a little stressed all week about forgetting something. Luckily the only thing I forgot was an assessment for swim (lucky, not because it was unimportant, but because I'm pretty much always there early anyway so it didn't matter).

- Speaking of Autumn... it's sending me very mixed signals so far. The sky looks extremely autumnal (the sky always looks closer during fall - true story) but the ridiculously hot temperatures during the day seem to scoff at that idea. On the other hand, I bought a pumpkin yesterday (couldn't resist - my love of pumpkins is profound) and today I bought an orange chevron printed burlap banner. Clearly I'm mentally ready for fall... I just need some cooler temperatures to support it.

- Some views from my life lately: the flag at half-mast on 9/11; finding a magazine about wooden boats for Cris; prepping to teach writing and literature to Ruth and Dari on Tuesdays (we're studying The Red Badge of Courage and man, it's been a long time and geez, I totally underestimated/forgot how much WORK this is! ;)).

On Growing

Started off my morning at the pool, first class of the season. Left way too early because I was so excited, I just couldn't wait. :) Was supposed to be on deck, but since one of my coaches was a no-show, I got to work with one of the kids (which is what I'd rather be doing anyway).

He hadn't swum with us in about six months, and I remember that the last time I coached him, it was an incredibly frustrating experience. I couldn't figure out what was wrong, I couldn't seem to fix the many problems with his strokes, and when I did manage to get one under control, another one (or two, or three) seemed to pop up in its place.

Today was a totally different experience. The problems were still there, but now I immediately recognized what they were - balance and body position issues. I knew how to fix them, how to break them down into baby steps so that he could be successful. I had the progressions down pat, had the language, knew how to demonstrate. I was having fun. He was having fun. We both felt successful.

Something about being in the exact same place with the exact same student drove it home: I'm better than I was, I'm growing, I'm getting it. There are so many times where I feel like "everybody is smarter than me" and (often!) "I'll never get this down the way I need to." And there's some truth to that. But sometimes you get those moments where life offers you a "yet" and its glorious promise: "someday." Not smart enough "yet." Not there "yet." But - "someday."

:)

(Also - lest I give you the impression that I've got it together - we hired a coach named Lacey this year, and I went to respond to her email only to discover that my phone autocorrects "Lacey" to "lackey," which is NOT the leadership impression I wanted to give off. #facepalm)

The Goings-On

With all the craziness, I've pretty much been AWOL for the last two weeks. Let's see if I can catch up.

- We wrapped for the season at swim. I wasn't ready for it to be over, but we had a good last week and I'm incredibly excited about starting up again next month. (And also incredibly sad because it's been two weeks since I've seen my kids, and I miss them terribly. I've said this before but it still feels true - I feel unmoored when I'm not teaching. This weekend especially, I was very aware of the fact that I wouldn't get to see them on Monday, and as soon as I got in the car after work I had a good cry. :( I'm still not sure how something that's so relatively new in my life has ingrained itself so deeply in my soul, but it's there and apparently it's not going away.) It was also the end of my first year as site supervisor, something I didn't really realize until that moment, but which kicked off a panic of "write down everything you need to remember for next year." ;) I've been pretty much mentally "unpacking" since then - reviewing the past year, what I want to do differently, continually being amazed that I managed to get anything done at all when I knew so little to begin with. It's been such a great, stressful, incredibly fulfilling, incredibly frustrating experience. :) I'm not sure I've ever been so frustrated with myself as I have been in the last year, nor felt as stupid - but in all fairness, I can't remember when I've been happier, or felt more of a sense of "this is exactly where I'm supposed to be." (Nor can I remember a time in recent history when I've so often sat on my floor and bawled because everyone is smarter than me and it feels like I'll never catch up, but that's another story lol.)

- Then Tuesday night, my parents had a small fire on the side of the house that knocked out the electrical circuits that I was hooked into, meaning that I've been without dependable electricity for a week now. :( I've been running my dad's generator to keep the A/C going enough to keep the place liveable for the pets and to keep the fridge and freezer operating. (So, so much gasoline is required to do this - around 10 gallons every day and a half or so. My bank account has practically hemorrhaged to the point of death lol.) I spent half the weekend digging a 24" deep trench, running from the house to the hookup point, and promptly blistered my hands from using the pickaxe and trowel. It feels like this project will never be done.

These People

These people. I love them dearly. I will miss them while they're gone, and I am thankful for the time we got to spend together this summer.

(L-R Natalie, Laura, Elena, Maggie, Jennifer, Connor)

On Rough Days

It's been a day. 

It's spring break week, and you can tell; everyone is slightly off-kilter, short-tempered, more tired than usual. There have been more tears in the last three days than there have been in the last three months. On Monday, one of my tiniest students burst into tears when I greeted her and asked if she was ready to get in the pool. Her mother looked equal parts frazzled and resigned. "It's been that sort of day," she told me, looking near tears herself. I spent half of the class with her head on my shoulder, floating on our backs, looking up at the ceiling and the skylights, before her mood had brightened and she was ready to go back to her coach.

I'm still laughing, but just barely, which is why I inwardly groan when one of the kids a lane over starts sobbing - a sudden, violent howl of frustration that I recognize all too well (having done it a few times myself). He's embarrassed to be crying. He clings to the side of the pool, his head ducked between hunched shoulders like a turtle, and the more he tries to be quiet, to disappear, the more frustrated he becomes, until finally he lets go and sinks several feet below the surface, hugging his knees to his chest. He's still crying, even underwater, and it's only a second before he has to kick back to the surface for air. He takes a quick, half-strangled breath, ignoring the coach who tries to talk to him, and ducks back beneath the water.

I paddle over, and the coach throws his hands up in frustration. "I don't know what's wrong!" he tells me, exasperated. "He won't tell me why he's upset. He's just staying down there."

I tell him it's okay, "I've got this," and he swims away, glad to leave the problem to someone else. My kid surfaces, glances at me defiantly, and disappears under the water again.

I tread water, waiting as his breaths even out and his up-and-downs become smooth bobs, and I can't help but notice the water running across the palms of my hands, the slight resistance of it against my feet. It's one of the things I've always loved, the sheer physicality of the water. The touch of it against my skin. On a whim, I stop kicking, blow out my breath in a steady stream, and let myself sink.

All is quiet under here, muffled, soft. It's easy to feel alone, but in the best possible way, surrounded by light and warmth and the soft pressure of the water on every inch of your body. I open my eyes, and I catch my kid studying me from behind his goggles, trying to figure out what it is that I'm doing.

(The truth is, I have no idea. Anyone watching would think I'm nuts, and I can't blame them.)

For few moments, we do bobs together, first independently, then eventually in sync, breathing and bubbling, rising and falling in time together. Every time we break the surface he glances furtively in my direction; gradually his look changes, from one of resentment to one of expectancy. The next time we surface, I ask quietly, "Want to go sit on the bottom with me?"

He doesn't respond, but he folds his legs neatly - criss, cross, applesauce - and sculls to the bottom with me, our breath trailing above us like the irridescent tentacles of a jellyfish. We're deeper than I thought - it takes more effort and more air to reach the bottom than I'd expected - but we do, sitting still for one brief second before pushing ourselves back to the surface for a breath, then sculling back down again.

We do this only a few times before he grabs the wall, and follow suit. I'm tired, and so is he.

We catch our breath silently.

"I'm having a horrible day today, and no one will just listen to me," he exclaims suddenly, angrily, studying the tiles in front of him.

I nod sympathetically. "I'm sorry. I'm not having a good day, either," I tell him.

He looks at me curiously. "What happened to you?" he asks.

"I forgot something important today. I left my swim binder on my kitchen table last night and I forgot to grab it this morning, so I didn't have everything I needed for tonight." Just saying it makes me want to growl in frustration.

He shrugs. "I forget my stuff all the time. My mom says it drives her crazy."

"It drives me crazy when I do it, too," I nod, and impulsively add, "It makes me feel like I'll never be good at being a grownup when I make stupid mistakes."

"My mom says everyone makes mistakes," he tells me, unimpressed with my candor. "Maybe you just need more practice."

And I laugh, because he's right, and because I knew that, and because what you know and what you feel are sometimes worlds apart.

"What happened to you today?" I ask, and almost instantly regret it. His eyes darken.

"I was trying to do a freestyle flipturn off the wall, and Carl wasn't watching where he was going, and he knocked me, and I swallowed water and choked and I had to breathe right before I flipped. And coach told me, 'don't breathe right before you flip,' and I tried to tell him that I know how to do a flipturn, that Carl knocked me, but he didn't listen. I know how to do a flipturn," he finishes defiantly, turning to face me.

"I know you do," I tell him. "I've seen you."

"Carl always knocks me, because he never looks where he's going," he adds, frustrating tinting his voice. "I never get to do a good flipturn."

We are the last ones in the pool; even the slowest class ended ten minutes ago. The lanes are empty, the water still and undisturbed.

"Want to try it now?" I offer, beckoning to the empty pool. "There's no one to run in to you. You can have the whole lane to yourself."

He starts to say no, but the novelty of the empty pool wins him over, and he pushes off the wall and treads water in the middle of the lane, suddenly uncertain. He looks at me.

I open my mouth because I know what I want to say - "Remember, freestyle into the wall, don't breathe, flip, push off and roll, and freestyle back" - and I have to stop myself.

"You know what to do."

When he decides to do it, when he commits, he is like a locomotive, and nothing in his way can stop him. I watch his swift, mechanical strokes as he shoots toward the other end of the pool. He rolls to breathe a perfect three strokes before the wall, and his face doesn't rise again before he flips, his feet landing neatly on the wall, and launches himself back into the lane. I couldn't ask for better.

He pulls himself out of the water, and his eyes are shining.

"See? I knew I could do it."

New Goggles

 

I had the best pair of orange ones. I treated then with a shmear of hair conditioner after every swim so they never fogged, and they fit perfectly because they had a band with an opening in the middle to go around my ponytail. I took them out of my swim bag to go to Florida, I put them in a safe place, and for the life of me I can't remember where that was. So this week I caved and went and bought another pair.
They're not as nice as my orange ones. But the color makes me smile. :)