Learning to Swim

Although I have been swimming for the majority of my life, I have found myself in the position of learning to swim on a regular basis. Currently I am providing my uncle with swim lessons which are going quite well, until he gets the bill that is, but whenever I give lessons, I always find myself learning all over again.

One of the more dramatic forms of this took place while I was teaching English and coaching swimming at the Antwerp International School. Via via, I found out that there was a re-organization of the school's swim team and that they were looking for a new coaching staff.

Three of us were hired, myself, Raf (a top-level, former Belgian National team swimmer), and Veronique. It was quite a formidable coaching staff, especially when we saw the team. I had been told one, that there was a team, that was a slight exaggeration, and that I needed to watch out for the parents, no exaggeration.

We held team "try-outs" and indeed about 40 kids showed up. A couple, I was told, would not be there. Later, I met them, they were the sure things, kids who worked out with a real team and showed up when necessary for the AIS team. They were the rock stars.

Well, after the try-outs and some near drownings, we had our "team," which I lovingly called "The Bad News Bears," which fortunately no-one had heard of and they all thought I was being endearing. We had our Tanners, our Lupus, our Olgivie, our Engleberg, our Amanda, but what Bad News Bears team would be complete without Kelly? He was one of the ones who did not show.

Kelly, (a german kid, who had actual potential), had a bit of an ego problem. He was much, much better than all of the other kids on the team, that much was true, but his stroke was far from perfect. I am a perfectionist when it comes to stroke technique. I think you can see that things were off to a rocky start.

For the first few weeks, all we worked on was stroke technique and no drills. Let me put it this way, I believe that Pat Morita's "Mr. Miyagi" role in the original "Karate Kid" might just be the greatest influence one me as a coach in all my life.

After a few weeks of wax on/wax off, Kelly had about had it with me and pretty much became defiant and attempted to rope a few of the bench-sitters away from the dark side. Some were swayed, others continued with wax on/wax off.

I had several conversations, and without going into too many Teutonic stereotypes, many fell on deaf ears. His stroke was perfect and his "real" coach told him so from the other team. I met one of these other so-called coaches that some of the other kids had gone to. He showed up to one of my swim meets and we had a "conversation." Let's just say that one did not fall on deaf ears...

However, back to Kelly. He was adamant, and at some point, you realize, you can lead the horse to water, but you can't make him do wax on/wax off, or something like that.

At the final International Championships, Kelly did perform quite well and set several records. However, what stood out more is that the two or three other kids who continued with wax on/wax off, ended up beating his split on the 4x100 Freestyle Relay. To put it bluntly, Kelly was stunned. I was not coaching the next year, and apparently Kelly did not return to the team, but stayed with his other team and coach. A pity.

What I learned from Kelly was that I, too, can always learn. I needed to learn how to get to someone like him better in the future, as I see this as a failure of my coaching, not him as a swimmer. He was sixteen. Sixteen year-olds are supposed to be idiots. Adults aren't.

Teaching my uncle now, I am realizing how difficult it is for us to "be taught" by others. We have our minds set in our ways. I am impressed by my uncle's rapid improvement and his trust in my teaching methods as they are, shall we say, un-orthodox at times.

I hope that I then will remain teachable as well as learning to swim again, each time I help another. Today, I consciously thought of how I do actually breath when I swim and it was an interesting experience to have that renewed awareness after all of these years.

Afterwards, we picked up our stuff, me with my plastic and canvas bag, and we headed to the locker room for a well-earned whirlpool. Though, I could have sworn I heard someone cough, "Kabosshh." Strange.