The Swimsuit Edition

Tessie's been taking swimming lessons this summer, as she did last summer, at our local community pool. She's already successfully completed the "Tiny Tots" and "Advanced Tiny Tots" swim classes, and has matriculated through to "Kinder Kids." According to the brochure, in this class she'll learn how to do the "Front crawl with rhythmic side breathing, elementary backstroke, and backstroke with an introduction to diving." That seems a bit ambitious, doesn't it?

Classes are held in the afternoon for five days in a row, Monday to Friday. I had to pick up Tessie early from her pre-school to get her to class on time, and this caused a bit of excitement among her classmates, many of whom were eager to know what her afternoon plans were.

"I have swimming lessons," she informed them.

"Why?" one of them asked.

"Because I want to be a scuba diver," Tessie replied.

So we dashed home to change her into her swimsuit, then walked the short distance to the pool. We were a few minutes early, so Tessie sat by the edge of the pool and splashed around with some of the other early arrivals.

Once class began, Tessie followed the teacher's instructions to the best of her ability. She's still a little shaky on a number of the techniques, but she seemed to be enjoying herself. Even so, with all of them pushing and kicking as hard as they could, these kids just couldn't move the edge of the pool.

The instructor took each of the kids out one by one to paddle around the pool while hanging on to a kickboard. Here's Tessie's turn:

Before long, though, the enjoyment had dissipated, replaced by cold. Tessie began to get upset, explaining that she was "frozen" and wanted to come out of the pool. I tried to convince her to stay in just a bit longer, and move around to warm herself up, but she was insistent on coming out of the pool, so I acquiesced and she sat on my lap by the edge of the pool. Both the instructor and I tried to entice her back into the water, but she just shivered and refused.

"Tessie," I began, "don't you want to be a scuba diver? You have to learn how to swim if you want to be a scuba diver."

"It's too cold," she responded.

"Well, that's where the best diving is. All she shipwrecks with treasure and the biggest sea creatures are in the coldest water. If you want to be a scuba diver, you have to learn to swim in cold water."

"I don't want to be a scuba diver." Cross another career aspiration off the list. "I just want to be a baseball player."

"Well, if you become a baseball player, you'll only play one game a day. What will you do with all your free time? I think you could be a baseball player and a scuba diver. Don't you think that would be fun?"

"I think I'll just rest."

At that point the instructor came to the edge of the pool to ask if Tessie wanted to come back in to do "gliders," a technique where the kids put their hands together over their heads and glide through the water.

"Oh, Tessie, don't you want to try that?" I asked her. "It looks like lots of fun."

Resignedly, almost wistfully, she said, "Gliders. I used to do those."

She continued to just sit there on my lap while the other kids did their gliders. When that part of the lesson was done, the instructor once again tried to bring Tessie back into the fold. "Tessie, would you like to do jumpers?"

That got her interest. She's not as adept at flinging herself bodily into the pool as her older classmates, but she is still a daredevil at heart, so the opportunity to jump in at the deep[er] end of the pool was not to be missed. She bounded up out of my lap, much to my surprise, and took her place as the first in line to jump. Back into the water she went! (Regrettably, I couldn't back up fast enough to get a picture of the jump. Maybe next time.)

A