Angela and I have been taking Miles to swim lessons for about a year and we have always taken him to the Parent/Tot class. He officially graduated from that last time and was ready for Preschool class. Parent/Tot was for babies and the kids who were scared of the monster that lived in the drain (like he could fit through those little holes...I mean come on!). We were so over that. It was time for more of a challenge.
As we listened to the rules of the pool and general information reality hit me, hard. I was about to let go of some control. Me? I don't think so. I thought to myself, "He's not ready. We can go back to swim with the babies." Then I thought better of it. "He can do it. He's smart, careful, and ready."
So we proceeded.
"What's your name?" the high school girl with my child's life in her hands said.
"His name is..." I bit my tongue.
"Miles. What's your name?" my confident two year old said with a smile. Its gonna be alright. I took his shirt off and his overly huge swimsuit fell to his ankles. I nervously giggled and pulled them up.
Before class I had explained to him that Dad wasn't going to be in the pool with him and he had to listen to his teacher. "Ok, Daddy."
Now it was time to test it. I gave the elastic of his swimsuit a quick roll so they wouldn't fall down again as a last ditch effort to control the situation. I backed off as he sat on the edge of the pool and listened to the teacher intently. "This is going to be fine" I kept telling myself.
Part of the talk at the beginning was explaining that today was test day. All the teachers would be evaluating each kid to see if they needed to be moved up, down or stay where they were. My competitive nature flared when hearing this. "She better not move MY kid down. Shivers don't get moved down!" Of course, this was all inside.
As the testing commenced I watched a six year old girl jump in and swim around with her head completely under water. Oh crap! Was this where he needed to be?
The kid next to Miles was at least five, maybe six years old. "Can you put your head in the water?" the teacher asked him. He shook his head. "Please?" she pleaded. He turned and looked up at his mom who was showing him how to hold his nose and close his eyes. He then held his nose with one hand and covered his eyes with the other. He dipped his face into the water for what seemed like half a second and then pulled it up real quick. "I can't see! Mom, I can't see!"
"That's because your eyes are closed" I almost yelled. But my son hasn't gone yet and that kind of comment could backfire on a guy.
He's gotta do better than that.
"Miles, can you put your face in the water?" She asked him. He shook his head. Uh Oh.
"Just hold your nose like this." she said with a nasally voice. He put his hand to his nose and stuck his tongue out.
"No Miles we aren't playing that game." I said to myself.
He was standing in waste deep water and bent down only using his waste, keeping his knees straight. He got close to the water with his face and lost his balance a little, caught himself and tried again. He dipped his nose and open mouth into the water with his arms way out to the sides for balance and popped up with a smile. The 150 psi I had been holding in my lungs almost blew over the lady in front of me as I let it out.
The teacher went through a few more tests and moved the older girl up to the next class. Miles could kick, blow bubbles, move his arms, get on and off the wall, and follow basic instructions. He might just pass!
As the time went on fewer and fewer kids were paying attention and one kid fixed himself on bugging Miles. He was an older, overweight kid. My son's first bully. He was pushing Miles around a little, literally, but nothing too serious. At one point the teacher was leading the class out to the middle of the pool and holding Miles's hand. The bully latched onto his other hand without the teaching knowing and tried to pull him back and down under the water. I almost got wet right there. I was on my feet when the teacher turned and corrected the situation. A few minutes later the bully was swimming up to Miles and yelling an inch from his head right into his ear. Well he had enough, turned and said, "Nooooooo!" swinging his arms. "That's right son, right in the kisser." Oops, did I say that out loud? No one was looking at me, maybe I kept it inside. Once again the teacher stepped in and saved me from getting arrested for assaulting a five year old. Later, sitting back on the wall, this kid was next to Miles trying to nudge him off the wall into the water. Once again, taking matters into his own hands, Miles pushed him away.
With about five minutes left in the class they jumped off the wall and were instructed to walk on their hands keeping their heads above the water. Miles tried several times but the water was too deep for his short arms to reach the bottom, each time moving shallower and shallower until he could reach. He went around like he was told and followed back into the deeper water. When he couldn't reach anymore he stood up, took a few steps and slipped. There my son was, head mostly under water, bent over struggling to stand up. The seconds past and it seemed like an hour as my heart stopped. I stood up. Finally the teacher saw him and pulled him up. He was holding his breath like a champ, but was defnitely not intentionally looking for pennies on the bottom. She carried him over to me as he cried in terror.
It was one of those moments that I knew how I acted was very important. It was his first lesson in getting back up after a fall. What would he take from this experience? Give up and run away when things got tough? Falling down means failure? I wouldn't have it.
I gave him a hug and asked him if he was ok.
"Yeah!" he squeezed out through the tears. We took some deep breaths together and calmed down.
"What happened?" I asked.
"I slipped"
"Did you die?"
"No."
"Are you ok?"
"Yeah"
"Now you can put your head under water and you know you're gonna be ok and that you won't die." (Don't judge, I was reacting. If I had a second to think I would have come up with something better.)
"Yeah"
"Ready to go back?"
"Yeah". I put him back in the pool. He turned to me, screaming again.
"Go back out there, Miles" My heart broke even though I knew it was the right thing to do. I swelled with pride as he walked back out to the circle of kids in the middle of the pool.
After the class the teacher told me he had passed and was going to stay in the Preschool class. "He just needs to get used to the water." I agreed.
I'm not sure exactly why this was such a big deal to me. I was so full of anxiety, pride, anger, excitement and more pride. I can't say who learned more from our first swim lesson this year. Most likely it was me, as is true with most parenting experiences I've had so far. I know this is the first of many steps toward letting go of control of my kids. It was hard and awesome. It was scary and emotional. It was what was best for my son.
Hi, My name is Miles Shiver and I'm a control freak.
The first step is admitting it.
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