Sharks don't like chlorine, and other reasons to go to the pool (by Ben)

I remember, probably quite inaccurately, that my summers as a young adolescent revolved around 3 things. Watching TV, the acquisition and consumption of vast amounts of candy, and swimming. Somewhere between the ages of 8 and 12, I developed a fondness for what I call swimming, but really it was mostly just playing at the local community pool. My friends and I, or my sisters and I, or whomever I could talk into taking me to the pool and I; would splash around in the 3 foot deep section of water to our hearts content. I recall being acutely upset at my inability to float, and even more upset that so much of the pool was reserved for those with the obvious superpower privy to natural born swimmers.

I remember learning to dog paddle as a pre-teen and graduating to the 3.5 foot deep section of the pool, and then the glorious day when I realized that I could actually swim quite well if I would just float with my face in the water, and paddle along. The whole breathing-without-sinking was near impossible at this point, but I made it work, and swam from one end of the pool to the other in triumphant elation, just 7 or 8 years later than I should have.

Even then I was still a very timid swimmer. I was convinced that any body of water larger than a bathtub had sharks in it (thanks for ruining my life Steven Spielberg). Compound that with poor form, and a distaste for getting water in my eyes, and I can now reflectively understand why I still barely swam at the age of 13. I'm still ashamed that at scout camp that year I didn't even make it the 100 yards I'd have to swim to be considered a swimmer. And so I sat on the docks watching the others boys glide through the water and jump off the diving board.

Eventually over the next few years I overcame my fears. I forced myself to swim faster, and let my eyes sting with the chlorine, or algae, or salt. I conquered the coldest of waters in the frigid lakes of Canada. I braved the shark infested waters of Venezuela. I submitted myself to collegiate swim classes. And recently, in just 39 minutes, I proved my complete mastery of swimming by finishing the one and a quarter mile open-water swim at the beginning of a Half Ironman Triathlon (which was followed by another 5.5 hours of exertion.) I had taken one of my greatest weaknesses and forced myself to make it a strength.

But I still long to erase the years of embarrassment and pain and anguish as my friends enjoyed water I dare not tread, or more appropriately, could not tread. And since I cannot change my past, I've decided to change the past for my children. I'll give them a life of watery freedom. I'd teach my kids to swim.

Wow, that turned out to be a rather elaborate and lengthy description of why I want my kids to learn to swim. But there you have it. I feel so passionately about this, though, that I really feel the need to be involved. That coupled with my inability to accept that a teenager who can barely pass a rudimentary geography class could be better than me at instructing my own flesh and blood to swim. And so I snubbed the swim classes and opted for some home-spun swim instruction.

So I started by finding out how the pros do it. Not the 14 year old lifeguards, but the real pros. I read through a dozen curricula from twice as many teachers and swim-schools, gleaning the basics steps they walk the kids through. Most of it, surprisingly, revolved around superior methods for detaching the kids fingers from the edge of the pool. Or, as they put it, "making kids comfortable in the water". We had no problem with that. Both of our kids have loved the water for life (in a limited scope of course.) They both are fine sitting in the shower with water running through their eyes (which I couldn't do until I was 12. They will both stick their faces in the tub and blow bubbles (another significant hurdle, belive it or not). And they both will hop on my back and ride around as I swim from one side of the pool to the other. I'm especially impressed that James isn't afraid of the water after he accidentally fell into a pool head-first on a vacation of ours to Florida a few years ago. Luckily, I was right there by the pool and hauled him out by his feet in seconds, but it was nice that he wasn't traumatized.

So, we quickly moved on to the first set of lessons. Jumping into the water. I can't belive that people actually pay strangers money to let their kids jump into the water. What better memories are there than letting your child show their trust in you? James was a little tentative, but eventually jumped off the edge of the pool to me. What a cake walk. But the next step posed some problems. I was trying to get James to put his face underwater while holding his breath, but he wouldn't stay under. The next step would be to support him with his breath held with his face in the water, and graduate to floating on his face with his breath held, all by himself; proving to his subconscious that he will indeed float if he's holding still. A valuable lesson I didn't learn for a while. He simply wouldn't do it, so it dawned on me that a snorkel and mask could work wonders.

After a quick trip to Target, Nicki let him try out the new snorkel in the tub, and sure enough, he was fascinated by his new-found ability to see underwater. At the pool, we found it a little difficult to teach him exactly where to bite the snorkel to keep it in his mouth (Ie, "No no, honey, you don't put the entire mouthpiece in your mouth, just bite down on the very end. Oh, no. Don't bite off the end. Well, I guess it's too late now. Just bite down on what's left.")

Once James trusted the snorkel to let him breath, all it took was a handful of pennies thrown underwater and he was hooked. He actually seemed surprised when I threw the pennies into the 2 foot deep water. As hard as he tried to reach down to them he couldn't. "Dad", he complained through the snorkel "I'm trying to reach the treasure but my body won't stop floating to the top." Exactly. Dad: 1 - Water: 0.

Our next visit to the pool was time for deep water floating. He'd proved that he could float in 18 inches, using his hands on the bottom of the pool to pull himself around, but I wanted him to realize that he can float in the deep water too. So I was the tugboat, and he was the broken pirate ship, and I told him I had to tow him around the ocean looking for treasure. He gladly let me tow him all around the pool, even over by the waterslides and the 5 foot deep section. He was a little panicked at having me force him to float all by himself in the deepest water, but he did it, and made me proud. I pulled him by the shirt back to "shore" where he gladly spent another hour diving for treasure. The shallow water that he had been so tentative to snorkel in just days before had become child's play, quite literally.

Day three found me wanting to challenge him. He was being extra comfortable in the water, and so I asked him to try holding his breath without his snorkel, and putting his face under the water. He did a great job, and so I asked him to jump off the side of the pool and do the same thing, holding his breath, and I'd grab him and haul him out. He was a tad hesitant, but he jumped in over his head, held his breath, and I pulled him out just a half second after he went under. He was ecstatic. So I reward him. I had him go down the waterslide where he'd hold his breath and I'd let him hit the water before grabbing him from where I was standing at the bottom of the slide. His face was barely going under when I'd grab him out and make sure he felt comfortable dropping into the turbulent water.

About the fourth or fifth time he went down, I told him to hold his breath big, thinking I'd let him go under for a full second before pulling him out. But as he hit the water it occurred to me what the 10 gallons of water a second rushing down the slide on top of him would do when they hit. Not a half a second after he went into the water he was gone. Instant adrenaline coursed through my veins. The water was surprisingly turbid; the current from the water coming off the slide was foaming up the water enough that I couldn't see him anymore. The water was only 4.5 feet deep, so I reached my big lanky arms around in the water and eventually found a thigh. I pulled him up after being under for a full 5 or 6 seconds. He grinned a big grin, and with water running down his face, he exclaimed: "Whoa Dad, that was fun. I was spinning all around!" Dad: 2 - Water: 0.

The next lesson was all about learning to stroke. James already liked the snorkel, so I let it be, but put the pennies he likes to dive for in water just deep enough that he couldn't reach the bottom enough to pull himself around with his hands. At first he was comical. He'd stand up on one foot, with his face still in the water, and lunge himself forward, dropping his torso deep enough to pull himself forward with his hands, and push his upper body back out of the water enough to stand up on one leg again, and lunge again. The way he does it he looks like a little bucking bronco half under the water splashing all around. I asked him to not use his legs at all and to just paddle with his arms. I showed him how to scoop the water with his hands, and pull them all the way down to his pockets. He didn't quite get it, and ended up swimming backwards rather efficiently as he tried to propel himself forwards. He slowly started to get the hang of it, but he's still working on really getting some purchase on the water, and he still kicks like an upset donkey. I tried letting him using flippers, which didn't really help, but he's having fun, and learning well.

Our last time at the pool last week, we got him to dive for coins without a snorkel, and he actually swam around just a bit with just the mask on. And while I'm only part of the way through his regimen, I feel accomplished that he's learning how to swim. I'm proud that he's better than his dad, and hope that he'll spend many a youthful afternoon swimming hard with his friends in the deep end of the pool.