Swimming Lessons

I don't know that any combination of two words in the English language can strike such fear in me as those two words: Swimming Lessons.  My mother was unable to swim (she has recently started taking lessons though).  Her father could not swim.  My mother as always terrified of water, and she did not want her daughters growing up feeling that way.  She signed us up for swimming lessons.

First it was just with the town Youth Commission for three weeks in the summer.  Then she thought we were forgetting too much, so we went to the Italian Community Center in Troy (at least that's where I think it was).  Our lessons were on Sunday mornings, around 11am.  This meant we had plenty of time to go to 8am Mass, then have breakfast, and still be finished before the 'no eating for an hour before swimming' kicked in.  The pool was in one area of the building with a few seats on the side for parents to wait.  It was always humid in there, the air heavy with the smell of chlorine. 

I hated swimming lessons.  My sister is part fish.  I've often believed she was in fact a mermaid.  My father loves to swim, and my sister got that, as well as many other attributes, from Dad.  Even though we were two years apart in age, for a while we were in the same class.  The teachers would tell us to jump into the deep end, and my sister would have jumped in and out six times, while I stood on the edge of the pool screaming at the top of my lungs that I was not going to do it.  My sister asked the teachers 'can't I jump for her?' and they told her no, I had to do it myself.  I spent most of the hour of lesson time screaming and crying at the side of the pool.  I was the child that caused other parents to look at each other with that knowing look.  That look that said 'Thank God she isn't MINE'.  Except my parents, who encouraged and tried their best to get me into the water.  Sunday mornings were pure torture for me, and the best part was when the whistle blew signaling our time was up.  I could change back into my clothes and not worry about this for another week.

I do not like getting my face wet.  I never have.  This is part of my aversion to swimming.  Erich only recently realized this fun fact about me, and asked how I manage to get a shower.  Apparently, it didn't occur to him WHY I wash my face in the sink every morning before I get into the shower.  And for those who are curious- I stand with my back to the shower to wash my hair and body.  When I have to turn around to rinse off, I stand with my face away from the shower stream. 

I don't remember how long I took swimming lessons- either at the Community Center or through the Youth Commission.  Eventually my parents decided I had learned all that I was going to learn, and it wasn't worth the argument anymore.  I was allowed to stop swimming lessons.  My sister kept going, at least to the Youth Commission.  She loved it. 

Monday nights for my family in NY are now swimming lesson nights.  Mom is taking lessons at the Y in Troy.  Sydney is taking private lessons at the same place.  Laura and Drew joined a Mommy & Me class.  They all have the same teacher, and some nights if Mom doesn't want to stay til 8:00 for her class, she takes a lesson with Sydney.  So the Monday night I was home, it was off to swimming lessons.  After Sydney and Mom were changed, we went down to the pool.  I was slapped in the face with the humidity (it was hot outside which made it worse) and the aroma of chlorine.  This pool has a 'viewing deck', a room that sits over the pool and you can watch the swimmers.  Dad and I went in there while Sydney started her lesson.  I couldn't leave the window, because Sydney kept looking up at me and waving.  A few minutes into her lesson, I saw her telling her teacher that Aunt Amy was watching.  The teacher motioned for me to come down to the pool.  Sydney is kind of reluctant to take swimming lessons- not nearly as bad as I was, but she doesn't go willingly.  So I'm sure the teacher has heard the horror stories of Aunt Amy. 

I went down to the pool and the teacher explained she wanted Sydney to jump into the pool, and she wanted her to splash Aunt Amy.  They were at the deep end, which is 9'.  I stood behind Sydney, between the ladder railings waiting to be splashed.  She cried and protested and said 'no'.  My heart was pounding in my ears and I felt sick.  It was as if I was the child refusing to go into the pool all over again.  I had to push back the fear of the child and be the supportive Aunt.  I had to encourage her, just as everyone else was, to jump into the water.  That was very hard for me, because more than anything I wanted to grab her hand and run in the other direction.  But I did encourage her.  By this point, her mom and brother were in the water at the shallow end.

I leaned over and said "Sydney, do you know who can't jump into the deep end?" She looked at me with those big blue eyes and said "YOU?" (ok, smart alec!).  I told her yes, but babies can't jump in the deep end.  Earlier that day she got upset because we told her she was cute, and she said babies were cute and she wasn't a baby.  So I thought I'd try that tactic.  I told her her brother could not jump in, so if she could, she would be able to do something he couldn't.  It seemed to work.  After a few more tries, then she jumped in. Once she did it, then she wanted to do it again and again. 

Eventually, the entire family ended up in the shallow end.  Due to the holiday week, no one else came for the Mommy & Me class, so the teacher worked with Mom, Sydney, Laura & Drew together.  The teacher was showing Sydney how to cover her nose to blow bubbles in the water.  Sydney tried it, my Mom tried it, my sister tried it. Drew watched each of them, then he put his hand over his nose and put his face in the water to try it.  As hesitant as Sydney is to do what she has to in swimming lessons, Drew is eager.  He is definitely a water baby.  And even Sydney is so much better than I was.  I'd have still been standing there saying no.