We signed Lela up for a water safety bootcamp class at the end of July. There are so many pools in San Antonio (5 of the 10 houses on our street have pools in the backyard) and drowning is one of the leading causes of death in children, so we wanted to ensure that Lela knows how to handle herself around water. Miss Glendy came highly recommended. She teaches one-week water safety courses all around the state and she only teaches one week in San Antonio each summer. The premise is to teach children the skills to survive a fall into a body of water: how to avoid panic, float calmly, make way to edge of pool and cling to the side, or get out of the pool if possible. I knew her methods would be tough, but I was unprepared for how traumatic the first class would be.
Lela was already comfortable "swimming" in the pool thanks to our neighborhood instructor Ellie (see here) and she was excited for her first swimming lesson with Miss Glendy. But that excitement turned to terror once she realized Miss Glendy wouldn't hold and coddle her. During the lesson, Miss Glendy asked me to sit on the porch, 20 or so yards away, so I wouldn't be a distraction for Lela. I think Miss Glendy really asks the parents to sit further from the pool so we can't dive in to save our children. Let me tell you, the first day of swimming class was probably one of the worst days of my life. Lela was screaming and sobbing - when she was not bobbing under the water for horrible moments of silence - and crying out for Mommy! like a drowning person - which was an apt description since she was, in a sense, actually drowning. This went on for an hour. At several points, I had to talk myself out of diving into the pool, snatching Lela and running away. The mommy voice in my head kept nagging, "nothing is so important that your child should be this terrified and you, as her mother, are not going to help her." And another voice would remind me that Miss Glendy was not going to let Lela drown and that learning to survive a fall into a pool is a life-saving skill that Lela must learn. Glendy had even explained that the screaming was a part of the learning experience. The kids learn to regulate their breathing, fight the panic that hits if they were to fall into a pool, and recognize that screaming makes it harder to float. Nonetheless, I was sitting on the porch the entire lesson, shaking and sweating, trying to deep-breath myself into calmly enduring her screams and tears. I really think I was more traumatized than Lela.
Until we got to class on Tuesday. On Tuesday, she started screaming and sobbing the moment Miss Glendy took her hand, before she even got into the pool. And once she finally calmed down after a few laps around the pool, Miss Glendy took it a step further and TOSSED Lela up in the air and head first into the water. And once again, I rocked nervously on the porch rocker talking myself out of grabbing Lela and abandoning this entire exercise. Warning: this video is hard to watch.
We almost didn't go back. But somehow, we did. Each car ride to and from the lesson, I talked calmly with Lela about her swim lessons: how proud of her I was; that I knew it was really hard but we have to keep practicing things that are hard so we can get better; that she was learning to swim like a big girl. We talked about the things she was learning (float on your back, chin up, tummy up, kick your feet) and what she did well in class. Despite all evidence to the contrary, Lela seemed proud of herself and ready to try the class again.
Wednesday. Day 3. We began the day with screaming again. But to my surprise, the screaming stopped after about 5 minutes. And then Lela started swimming. Well, not exactly "swimming" but at least not drowning and not screaming and somewhat propelling herself through the water. Funny enough, it was because she realized that if she pushed off from the wall and started swimming on her own, Miss Glendy wouldn't throw her into the water.
On the way home from class, Lela was bursting with pride. She recounted her successes and talked about what a big girl she was. "Mama," she said, "I cried, but only a little bit...and that's OK." Yes, baby girl. That's OK.
Thursday, Day 4. Lela was a swimming machine. She walked right over to the pool and started to climb in before Glendy was ready for lesson. She swam back and forth unassisted. She started jumping in from the side of the pool. We had a few moments of stress when Glendy started making her do barrel rolls from her back to her stomach (face under water) to her back again. Lela was not a huge fan of the movement, but she tolerated it after a few tries.
Friday, Day 5. I got to get into the water with Lela and practice her new moves. She was so proud to show me how she could swim! She explained how she would swim (on my back, tummy up, and reach with my arms) and then she took off. It was awesome.
The rest of the summer, she asked if we could go swimming and every time we got to a pool, she would proudly announce that she was going to swim by herself. "Only on my back, but I'll learn to swim on my tummy when I'm four."
Obviously, I'm glad we stuck with the lessons but OHMYGOD the first 2 days were truly horrific. As a mother, my natural instinct is to protect her from harm and shield her from fear. It took super-human strength to force myself to sit back and do nothing, but I'm so glad I did. Watching her work so hard to overcome her fear and learn these vital skills was amazing. And she did it all by herself. If nothing else, this experience taught me that at times, perhaps the best thing a parent can do is to NOT help. To let them figure it out on their own. To let them make mistakes, take risks, feel fear, and overcome it. And I'll try to remember that. But please god, I hope I never have to endure those screams again.
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