Laissez Faire Swimming
It's almost like they're learning nothing.
On Saturdays, I take my three-year-old son to swimming class. I wrestle him into the car and schlep him to the local YMCA for thirty minutes of what can only be called supervised drowning. The class is taught by a young girl of about fifteen; in my head, her name is Shelli. I had to make up her name because she’s never introduced herself to the children or parents. In fact, she's barely said anything at all. Shelli has braces with rubber bands and little to no authority. When the lifeguard blows a whistle, I know it's time to bring my son to the edge of the pool.
The class begins. Shelli does not say "start" or "go." She provides no instruction whatsoever. The children grab floating barbells of their own free will, and the ones that know how to swim start doing so while my son bobs around like an apple. Some take the pool toys and chuck them into the pool as if that is teaching them anything. I ask a parent next to me how his daughter learned to swim, to which he responds, “Peer pressure.” As the half-hour continues, Shelli offers no tips or tricks. She makes some gentle strokes as she stares into the distance, giggling occasionally. While I sit in the stands, dying to scream, "Tell them to kick, Shelli! Do something, damn it!" There have been times when I have had to intervene because the kids seemed desperate for direction. But Shelli seems pleased with the lack of progress the children are making.
This past Saturday, Shelli seemed frustrated when one of the tadpoles was being extra splashy. She didn’t use her words, but I could tell. I oscillate between thinking a dead person would do a better job teaching the class; at least, the kids would know how to float, and admiring Shelli's laid-back style. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night thinking about how she got this job in the first place. Did she speak at the interview?
I wish I could teach Shelli how to use her voice or exercise her control, but she doesn't seem interested. She doesn't seem fazed at all. Life would be so much easier if I were less like myself and more like Shelli.
