The Time I Quit Swimming -- Denise

When I was a little girl, my parents enrolled me in a swim class. At first it was a lot of fun. I got to go the pool. I got a new pink swimsuit. I got goggles and flippers. The first classes I took were fun. We blew bubbles, jumped in the shallow section, and took turns using the bright orange kickboard. My swim teachers were young college students who like small children and made up games and songs for us. Then one summer, when I was about ten years old, I was suddenly put in the more “advanced” swim class. The name of the class was “The Dolphins.” I was excited and even bragged to my brother who was still in the “baby fish class.”

The day of my new class we got to the swimming pool and instead of going to the shallow end the teachers walked us to the deeper end. Then he told us to dive in and swim all the way to the end and back. I looked out. It seemed very far to the other side. Unlike my previous teachers, he was not bouncing in the water waiting to help us, but standing on the side with his whistle. He blew his whistle and the first group dove in. I waited nervously. When it was my turn I dove in and swam to the end and back. I was tired, but I made it. My mom told me later that she was proud of me, but I just cried and cried. I told her I hated swimming and wanted to quit. She never made me go back to that swim class, and I never actually took a swim class ever again. Last summer, my sons took their first swim class. I hope they won’t want to quit like I did!