Burmese Swim Lessons

Today, I went to the pool with the two little boys I’m staying with (the sons of my friends) for swim lessons. As we drove through the streets of Myanmar, I wondered where these swim lessons would be held- was there a YMCA in Myanmar? Would it be at someone’s house? Was there some sort of waterpark? The scenery offered no clues. All of the buildings looked the same to me, not because they were the same but because there seemed to be no relationship between the type of building and its use. What looked like an apartment complex to me, was (there was laundry hanging outside the windows, plants on the balconies) but next to it, in exact architectural style, was a neon shopping center sparsely inhabited by both clothing shops and an occasional restaurant. Because of this, there was nothing to grasp at, no ‘we’re almost there’ or marker that we were approaching a ‘swim center,’ so I just watched in complete wonder.

We finally stopped at a green gate and the driver said something to the effect of “Now they will check us.” I watched as two men in blue uniforms wearing police- like hats approached the car. I assumed they were checking us, so I removed my sunglasses. One man approached the front of the car and lifted the hood. I joked with the driver, “Wouldn’t it be nice if they checked your oil and replaced it?” He smiled and started in on a story about the price someone had charged to replace the oil and filter in the SUV we were driving. Meanwhile, the other guard walked around the car with some sort of implement. I couldn’t see it but I presumed it was some sort of metal detector, or maybe they were checking for bombs or explosives, I have no idea. Apparently, we passed the ‘check’ because they stepped back, pulled open the gate, and waved us through the entrance to what I later discovered was ‘The American Club.’ I watched as we turned left and drove past a well- groomed baseball field and the pool itself, before turning right and into a parking lot.

“Aidan! Aidan!” the boys yelled as they saw a friend of theirs playing on the play structure adjacent to the parking lot. “Can we play with Aidan?”

“After your swim lessons,” Mia (the nanny) consented and ushered the boys out of the car and up the steps to the pool. The pool was set up similar to the ‘swim club’ that I grew up with, only a bit smaller. There was a long pool, surrounded by a deck on which were tables, chairs, and loungers. There was a shower and a smaller pool (which may have been a Jacuzzi). Mia took the boys around the corner to change into their suits and told me I could sit at one of the tables.

The water in the pool was a brilliant azure and in it, swam three little boys around a man, fit and in his mid-twenties (he appeared Burmese to me). As our two boys approached and jumped in the water I counted the ratio: five children, one adult. “This just wouldn’t fly in Marin,” I thought. “Where are the life vests? Where is the one-on-one instruction? Why isn’t my child being attended to at all times?”

But as I watched the swim lesson, I saw that the boys, aged 4-6, were doing exactly what boys aged 4-6 need to do to learn to swim: move around in the water. The two oldest boys were racing each other across the pool, showing each other diving tricks, and practicing submerging and surfacing. The teacher was working with one of the twin boys who were also there for a swim lesson. He was pulling him along, then letting him go and coaxing him to swim toward him. Meanwhile, the other twin was bobbing up and down with his water wings. Our younger boy was alternating between desperately clinging to the edge of the pool and swimming away from it. I noticed that as the teacher approached him, he actually went closer to the edge, and that when the teacher worked with the other students, he swam a lot more on his own.

The swimming lesson continued in this fashion, with the kids playing and swimming around the instructor as he would approach them and give them individual instruction. He taught the breast stroke to our younger one, encouraged one of the water-wing twins to cross the pool, and praised the older two for their racing and lengthened holding of their breath.

I compared this with the swim lessons my niece encountered last summer. Though there were over 20 students in the pool, each student was ‘clustered’ by apparent swim level, there were two instructors for four children, and there was a clear progression of ‘swim skills’ that the kids were supposed to ‘master’ by the end of the week.

I’m not making a judgment on this- I’m just noticing the difference between the two and my initial reaction to seeing one adult and five children in the pool as a ‘swim lesson.’ My first reaction was “Huh, this isn’t going to be much of a swim lesson- how can he teach five kids at once, especially since they’re all just swimming around?”  But I had been reading Zen Mind, Beginner’s Mind that morning so I was considering the idea that ‘the way to control a sheep is to give it an open field’ and ‘the way is the way, immerse yourself in it.’

 I thought about how much we want there to be a progression of things, a way or path of learning and that we like to know where we are on that path. But then I watched the kids in the pool; watched one twin remove his water wings and splash around in freedom while the other one diligently dog paddled around, buoyed by them. I thought about directing someone’s learning, and how repressive that might feel if they just weren’t ready to learn that particular aspect of the skill yet. I thought too about our need for safety in the pool (small child-adult ratio) and how constant attention from adults might actually keep the kids from exploring on their own. Again, I’m not passing judgment on any of this.  It’s just that I watched this teacher, surrounded by five little boys and apparently not controlling any of them, approach each kid as they needed him, give them a little instruction based on what he saw them doing, and then move on.

As we got out of the pool, our younger one said, “I want my burger now,” and I laughed as I recalled that my favorite part of the swim club was the snack bar too.