An Unhealthy Lack of Fear

Some people have said I have an "unhealthy lack of fear" when it comes to water.  They think I should be more careful, or take more precautions.  They see my never being afraid to plunge into rough seas, swimming alone late at night, chasing waves in my grandfather’s 14 ft whaler, or my thoughts about going whitewater rafting (so what? If I fall out, I will just swim) as reckless.  I, on the other hand, have a different take on their opinion of my aquatic behaviors.  I look at their "accusations" as a badge of honor.  A testament to my unwillingness to give up.  For had it not been for my "unhealthy lack of fear," I wouldn't be able to say, without a shadow of a doubt, that if there is something I won't apologize for saying, it is that I am a good, no great, swimmer.

But I did get a little help along the way... 

My mom and dad, my entire family, are lovers of water.  Dad grew up spending his summers in Rehoboth Beach, DE, was a lifeguard, and still is one of the best body surfers I know.  Mom was born in Iowa and lived in Wisconsin, so she spent a lot of time in lakes and pools.  She swam on swim teams and looks like a mermaid in the water.  My grandfather was swimming miles at a time when he was 6, swam at the Naval Academy, and at 86 still does his laps every day.  Through their own passion for swimming, they showed me water was something to be enjoyed, not feared.  

My parents firmly believed that if I knew how to walk, I needed to know how to swim, so they made sure I got the proper instruction and was ready.  They didn’t worry about what might happen if they took me into the ocean and, at an early age, taught me how to dive through waves, swim out of a riptide, and to feel how a wave was going to break. By understanding what to expect, I learned to respect water. 

As a child and young adult, I was given the opportunity to spend hours upon hours in the pool or ocean, and because swimming was allowed to be made a priority, I wanted to get better, be stronger.  I didn’t care if I got boiled, came out with more sand in my suit than on the beach itself, or if the boys didn’t really want me to play Shark (they probably were afraid I would beat them :)). It was all for the love of swimming and water.

It may sound a bit, oh what's the word, ah yes, "unhealthy," but I felt as though I developed a relationship with water. Water, it seemed, accepted, if not celebrated me. Water was where I felt most like myself.  Water was where I felt safe.

How Does This Relate to Teaching?

Just as I do with water, I want my students to have an "unhealthy lack of fear" of learning.

I want to do what my parents did for me and give them the tools they need to be confident learners.  To expose them to the excitement of learning, so when they see a big wave, they don’t run back to the safety of the sand, but instead charge into it.  They might dive under it, or they might jump over it, but either way, they will have come out on the other side, bursting up and out of the water, delighted in the thrill of conquering it.

I want them to find the thing that they are willing, begging, to spend hours upon hours doing, because they want to get better, be stronger.  To not care if it doesn’t work because that just means they are one step closer to figuring out what does work before they tried.

I want them know they are accepted, celebrated, can be themselves, and are safe.

So how do I do this?

I am still figuring out all the specifics (I think I always will be), but what I do know is that we have to be positive, enthusiastic, patient, love what we do, and meet our students where they are and bring them along as far as we can, during the time we have them.

It actually sounds just like teaching kids how to, you guessed it, swim.

Big shocker, but during the summer, I teach swimming lessons.  I instruct children between the ages of 3 and 10, and all of them are different types of swimmers and at different stages of expertise.

I have students who, at the sight of water on the first day, break down into tears and say they can’t swim and are scared.  They mean what they say, and I listen to them. With swimmers like these, my first goal is to just get their feet wet; I am not even thinking about blowing bubbles.

Others come with a beautiful front crawl (they look like ballerinas in the water) and are excited to learn butterfly and how to do a flip turn.  Nothing can keep them out of the water.

Regardless of where they are when they walk through those gates, I am excited to meet them and let them know right away that my goal, by the end of our time together, is for each one of them to be better, more confident, and stronger than they were when we first met.

I don’t set up insane, one-size-fits-all expectations. I find out more about my swimmers.  I talk to them about what they have done this summer, what they like to eat, or what books they have read, as we make our way into the water. 

I show them they can trust me.  I NEVER let a swimmer go under before they say they are ready.  I don’t ask them to do more than I think they are capable of doing, and I tell them that.  Do I push them? You bet, but there should never be tears.  I want them to LOVE the water, remember?

I am patient when we have setbacks or seem to stall out.  Learning anything has its highs, lows, and plateaus. I am in no rush, I know that with time and encouragement they will get there.

I hoot and holler with reckless abandon when they finally float on their back, complete their first lap of freestyle, or put their face in the water for the first time.  Each milestone is an important step in their journey to becoming a swimmer, and I celebrate them all.

Do I have an "unhealthy lack of fear" of water? You're darn right I do, and I hope one day they will too.