I have two grandsons, now 14 and 18. They are not brothers, but cousins – one from my son and the other from my daughter. Both my children are amazingly different in their personalities and interests. Their respective sons are equally – if not more – different.
Both grandchildren, I might add, are lovely people in their own way. (As are my children.) I have long been fascinated with grandchildren.
In the sports department, one is very talented. He used to do triathlons. No, I didn’t know what that meant either. It is a sport which requires the athlete to swim, to cycle and then to run, one after the other, all racing against others for the best time.
The distances for each part vary with the age of the person. For his last triathlon, done when he was 14, my grandson had to swim 400 metres, cycle 10 kilometres and run three kilometres. Not an easy task.
All this was a complete surprise to me, as no one in my family was ever any good at sports – most of all me.
The other grandson is, to put it simply, a complete klutz. His school streams children for their PE (physical education) classes, and he is in the fourth (lowest) stream. He has other talents.
This seemed much more familiar territory. Indeed, I wish my school had streamed sports, so I didn’t have to be embarrassed by being always the worst.
The Quick Swimmer
Which brings me to swimming. Of course, grandson number 1 was an excellent swimmer. He first started as a baby and was a good swimmer as early as I can remember. He is what might be called ‘a natural’.
We don’t live near each other, but once when he was visiting, we decided to go to the local pool, where I swim laps in a leisurely fashion. He was 12 or so and the lifeguard, a woman, came around to us and said he would need to pass a test in order to swim in the adult pool. I said OK.
What I didn’t realise was that while I was talking to her, he slipped into the 25-metre pool and had swum to the far end. He got there before we looked up. We both smiled. ‘I guess he can swim!’ she said.
For the next 20 minutes or so, he swam in the fast lane. I swam in the slow lane. It was all fine.
The Learner
The other grandson lives closer and spends more time in our house. I started taking him swimming from age seven or so. I expected it would be hard work.
In fact, it was lovely fun. He loved the water and was never frightened of it. We went to the children’s pool, next to the adult pool where I normally swim and his cousin excelled.
I am not a brilliant swimmer and have no idea how to teach it, so I just did what I could and went with the flow.
First, I taught him to float on his back, showing him how he wouldn’t sink if he just leaned back into the water, like lying on his bed. He was surprised and delighted to realise it was so easy. No problem.
Then I taught him what we used to call the Dead Man’s Float, where you hold your breath and float face down, arms in front. I thought he would hate it. No, he loved it.
From there, it was adding extra bits – using your legs to propel you forward. Using your arms, with cupped fingers, to add greater propulsion. He got it all.
But he couldn’t do the breathing for a crawl. No surprise. Neither can I.
The ‘By George’ Moment
I was keen to teach him early and asked other adults in the children’s pool how to do the breathing. Some tried to show him, but nothing worked. When he graduated to the adult pool (having been away for a year), I also asked other swimmers to show him, but again nothing worked.
But he was persistent and kept up swimming as best he could – on his back, doggie paddle, holding his breath and so forth.
His real goal was to be allowed to swim in the whole adult pool, like his cousin.
And then, two weeks ago, we went to the pool for the first time in a year. He took a while to remember what he could do. I tried once more to show him how to do the breathing, even though I can’t do it myself.
He struggled. And struggled. And then there was what I would call a ‘By George’ moment. He got it. By George, he got it. (Do you remember Rex Harrison teaching Audrey Hepburn to speak ‘proper’ English in My Fair Lady?)
He swam the length of the short area allowed for non-swimmers. Then, realising he could turn around, he swam three lengths of the area.
He kept at it until they closed the pool, and we were told to leave.
What a thrill. To see a child master something he had never been able to do before! And to think that I helped.
We went home tired and happy. Next time – or perhaps the time after that – I hope he will pass the test and be allowed to swim the full length.
Let’s Have a Conversation:
Have you taught a grandchild to swim? Have you taught a grandchild to do something else new? What was it? How did you feel, watching them try and try and then succeed?