Swimming [and Other] Lessons

Week one of swim lessons with Molly went, well, swimmingly! Until we got to Friday. When I picked her up from school on Friday and told her we were going to swim lessons, she immediately started to cry and protest, repeatedly telling me she did not want to go, and that she just wanted to go home. Prepared that sometimes this happens, even after a good start, to kids her age, I firmly told her we were going to go and encouraged her that everything would be fine. We got to the pool and the protesting continued. When she was sent inside the pool area to find her teacher, she ran back out to me crying and screaming. I had to hand my very unhappy girl over to a lifeguard and confidently walk out of the pool area, leaving her to get through it on her own. And it hurt. It hurt to see her upset, to see her so opposed to an activity that had been fun for her all week long. It hurt to not be able to go in, scoop her up, hug her, comfort her, save her from her fear.

As the class progressed, she went back and forth between crying and laughing. Her teacher was incredibly patient and loving, giving her lots of encouragement, hugs, and high-fives to get her through the 30 minute lesson. At the end of it, she came out smiling, showing me her blue lollipop, and asking if I had seen her go under the water. Of course I had, I had seen every single moment.

Since this happened on a Friday, I thought it would be great that we would have a weekend off from swim and by Monday, she would be ready to try again. Except that the whole weekend, she seemed to have some serious anxiety about returning to the pool. I kept asking her why, but she just kept telling me she did not want to go back.

The next day was the moment of truth. She woke up and happily proclaimed that yes, she did indeed want to go to swim lessons today. I felt myself relax. I mean, she’s 3, so maybe it was just a fluke. Maybe there was no real issue, she just wanted to assert her ability to protest. Whatever it was, I was one relieved momma to know that she was ready and prepared for the water that day.

Later that afternoon, as we got ready to go, she looked at me and said, in a very low, sad voice, “Mommy…I can’t get the earring.” She was referring to the rings that they retrieve from the bottom of the pool. “I can’t get the earring like all my friends did.” And my little girl was sad, discouraged, embarrassed. And my heart broke again.

You see, the two days when she had to retrieve the ring from the bottom, it took her two tries to get it. Was this what was at the core of the hesitation? The fact that she was upset and disappointed with herself for not achieving the task on her first try as her friends had done?
She pushed through it, though, and I am happy to say that at the end of Monday’s class, she grabbed that blue “earring” from the bottom of the pool – all by herself – on her first try. The smile and glow she exuded after that accomplishment is indescribable. The pride and happiness and relief I felt was also indescribable.

She continued with her lessons and finished strong and happy. She even got a chance to go down the waterslide by herself at her last session. We are going to continue maintenance classes through the month of July once each week with the same teacher. I am proud of my “goldfish”.


In life, I know Molly will learn many, many lessons from the experiences she has. I never would have imagined that swim lessons would teach her such lessons as humility, perseverance, and self-assertion. It is important that she learns that not everything she does will be a success right away; that sometimes, it takes practice and patience to achieve a skill. It is important that she learns that she may not always be the best at what she does; that sometimes others will achieve stronger, faster, better than she will. And it is important, most of all, that she learns that all of this is okay. I know she has a lifetime of achievements ahead of her, but it is also a reality that she will have some hurt, some frustration, and some failure along the way. I am proud of her, and hope she realizes that I will always be here to help guide her when she feels discouraged and encourage her when she feels defeated.



Chin up, baby girl, you’re going to do great.