So we just got home from Libby's third swim lesson. Today, my child got expelled. Not suspended. Expelled. Kicked out. Asked not to return. Okay, the delivery from the teacher was actually much more gentle, but still. I'm a teacher, and my kid got expelled. I really wasn't prepared for that.
It all started when Libby turned three. "Hooray!" I cheered. "My child is eligible for swim lessons and I don't have to get in the pool!"
"Yeah!" shouted Libby. "I'm ready for my first big girl lessons. I can do so much all by myself AND I'll have a TEACHER!" We signed her up and waited for lessons to start.
Last Monday was her first class. We got there a bit early, checked in, and were told to meet her teacher on the brown bench. We walked through the locker room together and upon meeting the pool deck were faced with signs declaring NO STREET SHOES. So, we stopped right there, stripped Libby down to her swim suit and waited for a sign from her teacher. Then, Libby looks up at me and says, "Uh, can I go now?" Wow, really? Just like that? My three year old is going to school us all with her independence? She's just going to walk over and meet her teacher and the other students with no help from me? Awesome. Go for it sister. Just don't fall into the pool on the way over there. And off she went, my independent little miss. She hopped up on the bench and waited for her teacher.
Teacher came. Libby swam. She played "motor boat". She kissed the water. She splashed herself and let the teacher splash her too. She was a little superstar. This mama was proud, and I made sure she knew it.
Then, something happened. My girl just decided she wasn't going to do it anymore. That's the only explanation I can give. For, on the second day of lessons she announced to me, "I'm not going there, and I'm not having any fun." Thinking she'd snap out of it, we loaded up the Suburban and pointed ourselves toward the pool. Here is what I now know: My girl is true to her word. For the first ten minutes she did great. Then, it all went south. My child's scream commanded the attention of every nurturing caregiver in the room. Other parents, swim teachers and lifeguards looked around panic stricken wondering where this child's parent was. What do you do in that situation? I did what every other red-blooded American would do. I asked aloud, "Whose child IS that?" But, by that time it was too late. Clearly, my child wasn't backing down, and it was affecting the lesson. So, I went and got her. I sat her on the bench and loved her until she calmed down. And then she turned on the sweetness. Just wanted to snuggle and chat. She'd quit the lesson and was getting lots of love an attention for it. Well, I wasn't going to just let her win....right? I explained that her choices were to continue her lesson, or sit on the bench and watch. But we'd started something, and it was important for us to finish it. And for the rest of the lesson she benched herself while Shane and I watched from the bleachers. Sigh.
Today went much the same way, only worse. She wasn't going near the water. The two other children in her class were given to another teacher (who now had five), while my child got a private lesson. Her saintly teacher retrieved her from the bench, brought her into the pool and tolerated screaming, kicking and crying for about ten minutes before giving up on her. It felt like an hour. I wouldn't have lasted a minute. All the while a mom nearby asked me what I thought the problem was and gave suggestions. Thanks.
Anyway, we were told that Libby probably isn't ready and perhaps we could enroll in 'Mommy and Me' class, or try a morning lesson when Libby's in a better mood. And, by the way, those classes are all full at this time. Alrighty then. I dried my soggy child, dressed her and put her in the car. On our way home she asked why her teacher said she can't come there anymore. I explained that we can still go there, but when she's a little older maybe she'll be better ready for lessons. When we were stopped at a light behind a police officer on a motorcycle and Libby asked about him, I resisted the urge to say, "He's looking for three year olds who don't finish their swim lessons. He takes them to jail." I resisted. I thought it, but didn't say it. On a day where it felt we'd really regressed, maybe we're maturing after all.
