It had been my intention to enroll TLB in swimming lessons last summer, but tubes got in the way. This summer, after a clean bill of health from TLB's ENT, I started shopping for swim instructors. By "shopping" I really mean soliciting my Facebook friends for advice.
What my son didn't need was a "Mommy & Me" water class. He was already comfortable in the water. That was part of the problem. He had absolutely no fear. I ruled out the Y's toddler swim class, and other similar courses around town.
Ultimately, I decided on Waterlilly Swim School, which teaches Infant Swim Self Rescue. As soon as I heard about this, I knew this was the program I wanted. Unfortunately, as it was already well into June by the time we were able to start lessons, there was a considerable wait to get into classes. In the meanwhile, we enrolled in another swim class just to pass time, and at the end of the class the instructor informed me that that was pretty much all she'd be able to do with him until he was older. I knew better, but I let it go. TLB had had fun for a couple weeks.
Finally, I got email notification that TLB would be able to begin his ISR classes. It wasn't at the time I'd initially wanted, but I was able to make it work.
The first class was a briefing of what was to be expected, and a short time in the pool with the instructor to get TLB acclimated to the pool and the environment. Ms. Gretchen informed me that sometimes the children get upset during their training, and that the best thing I could do was be positive and encouraging. I assured her that I'm not the sort of mom who freaks out when her kid cries, and that I wouldn't interfere with the lessons.
Throughout the first week of lessons, Ms. Gretchen assured me that TLB was doing really well, but I was convinced he could do better -- or at least do what he was doing without all the typical two year old whining, crying and complaining about stuff he doesn't want to do. Don't get me wrong, TLB loved to swim. He just didn't want to float. And in ISR, floating is kind of key.
So I resorted to bribery. My son will do pretty much anything for a lollipop (poop on the potty, for example), so I informed him that if he did everything Ms. Gretchen asked him to do without crying, he could have a lollipop. We made lots of progress that lesson.
For a long while, I had underestimated my son's ability to understand because of his limited vocabulary -- in my mind, only the stuff that came out was the stuff that went in, kind like that old Far Side comic about what we say to dogs and what they hear. I have since come to realize that my son is not a dog (you'd think the banana episode would have tipped me off), and that he understands much more than he's able to say. So I began coaching him. It began with little pep-talks on the drive to swim school, but it gradually began to work its way into my "encouragement" during his lessons -- to the point that the mom of the child who followed TLB's lesson remarked, "Look how smart he is. He's actually listening to you."
I don't know whether is was Ms. Gretchen's excellent instruction, my mad coaching skillz, or that my kid may be "Son of Poseidon" (according to Uncle Roland), but by the end of TLB's second week of lessons, Ms. Gretchen was convinced he was going to set a record for completing the course. I don't know whether he actually did or not. I do know that, according to the website, the average child takes about 35 lessons to complete it, and TLB did it in 16 (plus two days of testing and resetting).
Here is a link to a video Ms. Gretchen made of TLB's last few days of swim lessons (including one picture of a kid who isn't TLB). I tried to embed it, but for some reason it only wanted to embed half the frame. Yes, he's swimming in his underwear for much of it, as his "reset" lesson was done at the spur of the moment after his winter clothes test and I hadn't brought his trunks.
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