As I sit in my lifeguard chair every day at 2:30, the campers at the club where I work run along into the pool to partake in their daily labor known as swimming lessons. From what I remember, swimming lessons always filled me with exhaustion, hate, and water (only on one occasion). And when these children break out their kick boards, the sight from above clearly confirms what I believed to be happening to me at that very young age: a tremulous battle to make it to the other side of the pool without being kicked in the face, losing feeling in one's limbs, or becoming a form of entertainment for the swim instructors (please keep in mind that the word tremulous was not in my vocabulary at this time, so this memory may be slightly skewed). Nevertheless, I sit there just as anxiety driven as I was ten years ago when I was that child thrashing her way to the end of the pool.
As a lifeguard, this sight gets me every time. I constantly ask myself, is that child drowning, or are they just a lazy sloth as I once was? Once use of the kick board is no longer needed, the real torture show begins. I see arms flailing, mouths just barely reaching the surface of the water for a breathe, and chains of children grabbing onto each other for use as a flotation device. These children remind me some what of what the victims of the Titanic went through. Their faces exemplify despair and anguish. I take all of this in and come to the realization that this is the perfect way to discipline one's children!
No wonder why so many parents send their children to swimming lessons. Sure, they all say its a valuable skill they will always need to know, but we all know what they are really thinking. "Great! A place where my kids can be pushed to their absolute limits! Character building, and exhaustion all in one. No more complaining, mostly because they won't have the energy to speak after two hours of what seems to them equivalent to a woman's day of work in a Lowell factory in the late 1800s , but also because they will now have some hardship under their belt." These parents' kids are now seen as the polite, mature, tone bodied ones at the party. It can even be argued that the brattiest child, if exposed to swimming lessons soon enough, can avoid military camp later in life.
This could also explain the annoying fat kid theory that multifarious people hold. However, that is a topic for another date. In the end, it always seems that the child who makes it out of the swimming lesson alive proves to have a personality consisting of a strong back-bone and leadership skills, while the rest either simply grab onto the lane line as a foreshadow for their dependency on others for the rest of their lives, or they just come back again next year and their leadership qualities come to them a little less swimmingly.
This picture perfectly exemplifies how a swimming lesson can predetermine a child's life. As this boy struggles through the pool, the young girl, who is clearly cruising, stares at him in disgust. We can now conclude that this boy will always be the weakest link, and this swimming lesson is to thank for this information.
Look, Ma, no air!
Sonny quickly learned that yelling under water was not in his best interest.