The Looks on Their Faces
By Gene Aronowitz
I will never forget the looks on their faces when fear evaporated and cool water enveloped their bodies. During the summer between my junior and senior years in college, I worked as a swimming instructor at a residential camp for children in the Pocono Mountains of Pennsylvania.
I asked the camp Director if three counselors could join me at the small lake used for swimming instruction while I taught a class of children who couldn’t swim. He agreed. When camp started, I brought together all the non-swimmers for swim instruction, along with the three counselors. Essential beginner swim skills include getting in and out of the water safely, breathing, floating, kicking, and crawling. During the pre-camp orientation period, I taught the three counselors how to teach each of these skills.
We began by teaching the campers how to enter and exit the water safely. I explained that they would need to sit on the deck surrounding the lakefront swimming area, swivel, and lower themselves into the water while holding on to the edge of the dock. The kids were quite afraid, worried they would lose control once in the water. This did happen to one of them; his hands slipped as he got into the water. I jumped into the water, put my arms around the flailing child, and stood him upright. The child’s grimace became a broad smile as he stood up. With my experience as a lifeguard in previous years, I was able to react quickly and, usually, efficiently when swimmers got into difficulty. No one ever drowned on my watch.
Once the non-swimmers were in the water, I explained how to get out: pull themselves up while facing the deck, then turn to sit on the deck. Each child went through the getting-in and getting-out process several times until each was comfortable and proficient. That ended the first session.
The next session started with learning to breathe. Once again, the kids were initially scared, fearful of putting their heads underwater and holding their breath. Some swimmers never know how to do this, and I often see people swimming while continually keeping their heads out of the water. We divided the group into thirds, with each counselor working with a different subgroup. We taught the campers to hold onto the edge of the deck while standing in shallow water, bend at the waist, breathe in, put their heads under water, breathe out, turn their heads to one side, breathe in, and repeat the process. Timing had to be regular and precise; improper timing could cause a kid’s nose to fill with water and lead to a loss of concentration. Some learned this quickly, and they were brought by one of the counselors to a separate area where they sat on the deck, waiting to learn to float. The others remained with the other two counselors until they could breathe correctly, and when they could, they moved over to the floating group, as did the other two counselors when they no longer needed to teach breathing.
Floating was also scary. The counselors brought each child into the water separately and held them as they lay on their backs. Their faces were invariably scrunched, particularly when the counselors let go, keeping their hands close by just a few inches under the water. Those who had difficulty returned to the dock. I would talk with them, usually asking whether they remembered falling off a bike and how it felt necessary to get back on right away. Children who could float safely on their backs were taught to float on their front. It was challenging and, for some, very upsetting because their heads had to stay submerged longer than when breathing rhythmically.
When the campers could float on their backs and fronts, they moved to another part of the deck and began learning to kick. They had to hold onto the deck, float with their heads underwater, and activate their abdominal muscles. They had to bend their knees slightly while alternately lifting each leg and breathing rhythmically. We asked those who were successful to remain sitting on the deck until the end of the swim period. Counselors who had finished their teaching tasks always moved on to another group wherever needed.
At the next swim period, each child returned to the group they had ended with to continue working on that specific skill until they could progress to the next step. Those who had mastered kicking went to a separate part of the swim area to learn to crawl. These kids needed to float on their fronts, alternating the movement of their arms, palms down to catch the water, while breathing rhythmically and continuously kicking. The camp season for each child was 7 weeks, and almost all of them were able to master the skills necessary to move out of the beginners’ class and into another, which focused on sidestroke and backstroke.
The absolute pleasure for me in this whole process was seeing the campers' faces as they mastered each task, shifting from confusion, doubt, and disappointment to surprise and delight. Particularly pleasurable was the look of triumph when each of the non-swimmers could jump into the water and swim to the other side.
Why did they swim to the other side? Because they could.
A version of this memoir is included in the book 23 More Memoirs.
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