Swimming Instructor
As a young boy, I was absolutely terrified of learning to swim. I would sit at home cross-legged infront of the sofa and read books like the ’Ladybird book of swimming’ and think of it as a manual, like any budding geek. But, as soon as I got near a swimming pool, the smell of chlorine would have my heart hammering away. It was as scary as the smell of a dentist's surgery or the sight of wrapped needles in a Doctor's.

But, I was pretty determined to learn and my Mother submerged me (no pun intended) in twice weekly lessons. It seemed to me that I was always at the pool after school, walking nervously out of the changing rooms with my arm bands as fully inflated as I could get them and a huge ’float’ under my arm.

This story is about an instructor at the pool who patiently, every lesson, would hold the float infront of me and tell me sincerely that he would not let go of it while I splashed my feet and fearfully concentrated on keeping my head well above water. In retrospect, the man's patience was extradinary. Against the impatience of my bored Mother in the spectator’s gallery (who insisted like any Indian ’tiger’ mother that I ’should be doing better’) he never pushed me to do more, but waited until I volunteered to go to the next level. Because he never broke his promise and respected me that ’I’ knew when the time was right, I trusted him in return. Each step was a huge leap, like doing the breast stroke with arm bands, but with the float within reach, and slowly getting further away from it.
The penultimate step, was swimming without arm bands but with him holding both his hands under my chest as I paddled along. I can’t tell you how long it was between our first lesson until this point, but it must have been several months.

To this day, I remember the moment in the shallow end of the Borhamwood Swimming pool as I was swimming towards the side after countless repetitions. Paying patient attention like he had been for ages, he must have noticed that all fear had left me and without saying a word, he let his hands fall away from me and I was swimming for the first time in my life. I remember feeling esctatic, like I had just learned how to fly. From then on, you couldn’t keep me out of the pool and within a few years, I even joined the school swimming team

I said this story is about the instructor. I don’t know how old he was..to my young eyes he was an ’adult’, he could have been a teenager. Nor can I remember what he looks like. But I know to this day that his name is Ken. I know this because the next time I visited the pool, he presented me with a tiny ’winners cup’. It’s made of proper metal with a black base and although it has two handles (like any big trophy) it’s only about 4 inches high. On it, he had engraved My full name and his, and the date when I finally learned to swim.

It was the the kindest thing he could have done. As an instructor employed by the pool, he could have just gone on to the next kid.. But, he knew that learning to swim was the first ’big’ achievement of my life and he treated it as such

40+ years later, I still have that little cup. I wish could find him and thank him for what he did: his patience with a very scared boy, ignoring a stupidly impatient Mother, and most of all understanding and respectfully recognising how proud that little boy felt.

I might add, my Mother can’t swim to this day...
(sabre32, Mon 13 Feb 2012, 20:32, 8 replies)

Ah!
What a lovely story! You have my click.
(Woofie, Mon 13 Feb 2012, 20:48, closed)

That's...
...how I reacted, too.
(eesnahk, Mon 13 Feb 2012, 21:02, closed)

This is very nice and I like.

( Infidel , shit and wrong, Mon 13 Feb 2012, 21:11, closed)

How
is this a random act?
(Vigilante Man weeps because you're stupid., Mon 13 Feb 2012, 21:12, closed)

erm
how about the cup and engraving? im guessing that did't get done for every kid, thus by definition making it random.
(shamen Geekius Maximus, Tue 14 Feb 2012, 0:55, closed)

No it doesn't.
It's a nice story, certainly worthy of being told, but it is not a random act.
(Vigilante Man weeps because you're stupid., Tue 14 Feb 2012, 1:36, closed)

great story
inspiring, thank you :-)
(protocoldroid, Tue 14 Feb 2012, 0:56, closed)

Overheard in the viewing gallery during swimming lessons:

"How's your Bobby's swimming coming on?"

"Oh, very well. It takes him much longer to sink now."

I guess all progress is relative!

Oh, and have a click too.
(moon monkey is busy making memories worth repressing, Tue 14 Feb 2012, 11:46, closed)