Lesson #1 - Breathe. One day I was chatting with a fellow coach about how difficult I found freestyle and how anxious I felt whenever I tried to swim fast when he casually responded, well, that’s because you don’t breathe. I protested at first. Obviously I breathe, otherwise I would be dead. When he clarified that I was sucking in a deep breath, holding it as long as possible, and then releasing it in a panic right before turning into a sloppily executed sidebreath, I had to concede. I was swimming like I was skimming the bottom of the ocean and not gliding along the water’s surface, a gulp of air immediately available at the turn of my head.

For thirty minutes every week, you get to step back and watch us teach your kids to swim. After those thirty minutes are up, you have a whole week before your next lesson. Depending on your child’s aptitude for the water and how the lesson went, they might have a lot to say about it. If they talk your ear off about how excited they are to be back, that’s great! If, instead, they beg you to never bring them to the pool again, that’s a tougher conversation to navigate. 

When I tell people that I am a swim coach, most immediately assume that I work for a swim team. They imagine me standing at the edge of the pool with a timer in hand, barking out orders to a full lane of thrashing swimmers. Sometimes, that’s the case – our upper levels at Tiburon mimic swim team prep. I don’t have a timer, but I do walk along the edge of the pool shouting KICK! KICK! KICK! When I explain that I spend most of my day in the pool with babies, toddlers, and K-5 kids splashing me in the face and crawling on my back, I usually get a furrowed brow. “Oh, so you mean you’re a swim instructor?” Well, kind of.