When my first two kids learned to swim, it was the normal process of watching them hover around the stairs of the pool until the age of 5 or so. Then progressively with swim classes, they spread their swimming wings and by six, were swimming independently. With my middle child, she was so stubborn and terrified that I could barely get her to let go of the edge. Once she became more confident however and honed her skills, swimming was a breeze. With my youngest, we decided to take a quicker route. Last summer at age three, he took an infant survival training class and had to show up for a quick ten minute class, every day for three weeks. It was intense. He was starting to realize that water really scared him and he was clinging to the pool stairs like the other two had done. At the first class he was baptised quickly and dropped gently under deep water. With a swift hand, the instructor swooped him up and just as he was gagging, catching his breath and begging her to stop, she released him under water again. This happened a dozen or so times (I stopped counting), and he quickly learned that he could hold his breath under water and that she would save him. When the class was over and he was lying on the towel at the side of the pool, he looked a bit traumatized. I bet he was wondering how his nice mommy could allow this to take place and how his teacher could say that he did a great job, when he cried and screamed the entire time. He was praised nonetheless and offered tattoo stamps to put on his hand. It's kinda funny when I think about it now. I bet he wanted to hurl those stamps into the deep end and say, "You gotta be kidding me, you tried to drown me and all I get is a measly hand stamp!" Not too surprisingly, he did not want me to take him to swim class the next day. He cried and pleaded with me to let him stay home. Nope, we got him to class and once again, he was dropped under water but this time he was made to save himself, by learning to float on his back. He looked incredibly miserable and cried so hard that he swallowed a lot of water and threw up. I'm surprised that another parent did not call the police on us. The teacher was calm as can be, gently praising every move. I sat smiling, cheering him on the whole time, hiding my shock and praying that this would make him stronger. Again, he was offered tattoo stamps for his hands and he grabbed those stamps like they were the best toy at the store. He gripped them for dear life and stamped several times on each hand, knowing full well that he had earned those gosh darned tattoo stamps! Day three and he pretended that he was sick. He tried so hard to convince me that he was really too sick to go to class. He couldn't fool me and once again he was tortured by his teacher, and made to go under, float on his back and this time kick under water to find the edge of the pool. Once he got himself to the side, he kept trying to get out of the pool (who could blame him), but she'd gently pull him back in. On day four, he knew that begging did not work so this time he just ran into the back yard and hid. We found him and the torture continued. On day five however, the crying stopped and he was absolutely swimming. It was amazing to see in five days, a kid that was terrified of going under water was now floating on his back, swimming to the side and going under water without panicking. Yes, it was basically the gentle and guided approach to the saying, sink or swim. He learned quickly from me and the instructor, that we believed in him. If we had stopped the class, due to his crying, we would have been teaching him that fear wins. The next several weeks, he went in and out of protesting occasionally, but his skills got stronger and the crying faded away. By the end of the third week, he was dropped into the water with a full snow suit on and he floated on his back with ease and got himself to the edge on his own. When we traveled last summer, we got to see his new skills in action. At the pools we visited, he jumped into the pools endlessly, since he had the confidence to swim to the side. He must have jumped in thousands of times last summer. His eyes were frequently so bloodshot that they looked red instead of blue, from swimming so much. He would be beaming with pride when he saw that he could keep up with the older kids. He was no longer the little guy on the stairs. You could see it in his eyes, that he felt like a big kid too. Now at age four and eight months later, he competes with his siblings to see who can hold their breath under water the longest. Sometimes he wins. At the hotel pool yesterday, he walked right up to the edge of the deep end and jumped right in. He has learned a lesson that will stick with him throughout life....that he can do anything. What a great lesson, that something that may terrify us at first can be our greatest teacher. Once my son overcame his fear, something replaced it....confidence. Something that terrifies us is meant to be conquered, not run from. I know that sometimes people retreat in fear and become afraid of risks, challenges and anything new. Instead, let fear guide you to take the plunge too and to keep going until you are no longer afraid. The hand stamp tattoo is symbolic for your reward, something that you receive after each challenge and is tattooed within....."I did it."
