I know I'm biased, but I believe my son has many merits. He is very intelligent. He is loving and compassionate. His sense of humor is often precocious and he abhors failure. Unfortunately, his intelligence coupled with his fear of failure sometimes cripples his willingness to try. As his mother this can be maddening, especially in relation to things I really enjoy. Water sports are a prime example of this. Not that I didn't learn the hard way: my first memory of being in a full-size pool involves my mother wading in after me in jeans and a shirt as my head bobbed between barely above and barely below the water and I attempted to use one arm and one leg to "swim". I jumped right into the deep end with only wading pool experience on my resume. I never became a swimmer, but I can keep myself from drowning, and I love being pulled behind a boat at 35mph on anything. But enough about me.
My son has been enrolled in multiple small group swimming classes with the end result of all of them being that he still won't swim in deep water without some sort of flotation device. He doesn't like to put his face in the water. He doesn't like water in his ears. He wants goggles. He "can't" hold his breath. He gets tired. Blah, blah, blah. Yet he wants to go to the pool and to the beach. I understand that he will never be Michael Phelps, or even on a swim team for that matter. We're at the point now where it's almost on principle that he needs to get over himself and learn to swim. We've been to the YMCA near our house for most of his lessons, some of which were taught by instructors from the fancy High Point Swim Club. In an effort to switch things up and make things fit better into my schedule, I enrolled Captain Awesome in lessons at the YMCA close to the gym. New place, new people. Change is good, right?
Yesterday was the first class and all the children were evaluated by the instructors. Most of the kids are on roughly the same level, with some being more daring and competitive than others. There is one standout, though. He's way bigger in height and girth than the other kids and, by my best guess, about four years older. If his size wasn't enough to make him stick out of the crowd, his lack of experience and lack of bravery sure did the trick. At the end of the class the students were supposed to jump from standing into the deep end of the pool where the instructor was waiting to give them a noodle they could use to swim back to the edge and climb out. Captain Awesome was having no part of jumping from standing the first time and instead chose to sit down and shove off from his rump. The big kid followed his lead. The second time Captain Awesome managed to lurch into a belly flop after much hesitation. Well, the big kid was having no part of that. The other boys began to stand around behind the big kid and snicker and point. As I watched, my son joined in and the snickering became jeers of "Do it." The big kid simply shook his head and sat down. I was mortified.
I waited in the narrow hallway for my son to come out of the locker room and observed all of the YMCA campers interacting with each other. I remembered how mean some kids I knew growing up could be. I remembered the few times that I worked to stop meanness or rumors or be welcoming and inclusive. I realized that it wasn't enough. There were plenty of things that I turned the other cheek to as a kid, and even things that I participated in that were wrong. Mean. I knew a tough conversation was coming but I know in my heart that my son isn't mean. I want to raise a man with Christian values that leads by example and will defend others against all the mean.
It WAS a tough conversation. At one point in the discussion I brought up that Captain Awesome had just as hard a time jumping into the water as the big kid. I immediately felt terrible for the way I phrased it. There were a lot of tears, a lot of "I don't know!" responses and a lot of suggestions for the future. It was one of those conversations that leave both parent and child exhausted and tiptoeing around each other for awhile. I really don't like when I'm left wondering if anything that was discussed will stick. I don't like those tough conversations and I hate when they have to be repeated.
When we entered the pool area today, I collected Captain Awesome's t-shirt and shoes and sent him into the water with a reminder: Be an encourager. I settled down with my book to "read" and to watch and to wait.
Instruction was given on the different strokes and the children swam laps (with noodles) and played games. Finally, with ten minutes left in class, the students lined up to jump into the deep end. Captain Awesome didn't do too much better than yesterday, unless you want to award style points for the belly flop. The big kid stepped up to the edge.
I felt the anxiety emanating from this kid all the way across the pool. He was doing everything he could to muster the wherewithal to jump. He pumped his arms. He took a step back and then a step forward...and then a step back. He raised one knee high as though he was going to try a jump shot approach. Nothing worked. A few of the boys behind him started giggling and pointing. My heart was sinking. The next few moments changed everything.
Captain Awesome pushed his way through the group of boys, touched the big kid gently on the arm to get his attention, and said "You can do it." A couple of the other boys started scoffing "Do it!" Captain Awesome gave them a stern look, turned back to the big kid and smiled at him, saying "You CAN do it." loud enough to be heard over the others. Soon enough the other kids softened and became more supportive. The big kid didn't jump in from standing, but he did shove off from a seated position and swim underwater, holding his breath, which is more than any of the others had the gumption to do. Captain Awesome led the applause when the big kid surfaced.
I wanted to join in the applause, but I was too busy wiping tears from my eyes. The next thing I saw was the contagion of kindness sweeping the class. The boys were helping each other out of the pool, offering high fives and motivating each other. I was delighted. I AM delighted. And so very proud. The root word of "encourager" is "courage". Sometimes it takes courage to do what is right and encourage others to begin to realize their potential, even if that potential means they are swimming beneath the surface while you're still just trying to jump in. I hope that my son always has the courage to be an encourager and that I always have the courage to have those tough conversations. I want to experience more of the proud parent moments.
