The Breaststroke

I watched my kid struggle tonight... struggle and battle through it.  I'm not really used to it -- he typically either quits when he quickly realizes he can't do it (or can't do it perfectly) or just doesn't struggle at all.

Tonight, though... tonight was a different story.  It was Cal's first time in the "level 6" swimming class.  He had earned his last patch for "level 5" a little over a week ago, making him a "swimmer for life."  Level 6, the "competitive strokes" level, is a whole new ballgame; and we learned that tonight.

He started off great.  He and the other kid in the class did the backstroke across the length of the pool several times.  He looked good.  He was strong.  Up and down the lane a few times.  This was the first five (maybe more, but not more than ten) minutes of the half-hour class.

Next, the instructor gave the kids a quick explanation and demonstration of the breaststroke and had them try it.  Holy cats -- it wasn't the lazy version of the breaststroke I've been doing for years.  This was Cal's first exposure to the breaststroke, the only swimming stroke he hadn't learned yet.

Initially, Cal's legs naturally fell into a dolphin kick as he tried to figure out the motion of the arms which looked like half breaststroke, half butterfly.  He moved forward slowly and awkwardly.

After a few attempts at trying the stroke in its entirety (legs and arms), the instructor started working with Cal's legs.  He'd stand behind him, hold Cal's ankles and get his legs moving the correct way as Cal attempted to get the motion of the arms right while occasionally dipping his head in the water out of synch with his arms.

The instructor would let go, and Cal couldn't propell himself forward.  Either his legs weren't moving in the right motion or they just weren't moving strong enough to do so.

The next thing I knew Cal was on his back with a swimming noodle wrapped around him, the instructor again holding and moving his legs in the right motion for the breaststroke.  He'd let go and, again, the propelling forward (or backward, in this case) would virtually stop.

Meanwhile, the other kid was practicing the same stroke on her own, passing Cal up as she did.  From what I could tell, she had the leg motion nailed and was working on coordinating it with the arms.  I wondered how long she had been in level 6.  She was so tall.  Easily 9 years old.

Soon, the noodle was replaced by a kickboard; and Cal was back on his stomach, still working on the motion of the legs and just not getting it.  As he worked, he made sure to dip his head in the water, just as he will when he does the full stroke.  The instructor worked his legs for him again.

With the instructor by his side, Cal went up and down the lane several times trying different learning tools, none more effective than the other in helping this kid learn the breaststroke kick.  Clearly, this was going to take time.

With the half hour almost up, Cal was being zig-zagged across and down the lane.  At first, I couldn't tell what the instructor was doing with him.  Then I noticed Cal's foot hitting the side of the pool and pushing him away from it, his one leg moving in the path that it should for the breaststroke.  Brilliant? I wondered.  Possibly.

I'm sure Cal made huge yet unnoticeable strides tonight.

He was so uncoordinated.

He struggled so much.

He was so unfazed by the challenges.

He battled through it and tried... and tried... and tried.

As difficult as it was to watch him struggle, I am so stinkin' proud of that kid for battling through it and emerging from the water unbeaten.  "It's the hardest stroke," he told me as we headed to the locker room to change.  And from there it was like every other time we left the facility these past couple of years.