paul learned to swim by watching others train and practicing by himself 

I know the adage goes, “He who teaches himself has a fool for a teacher”, but I applied President Theodore Roosevelt’s logic: “Do what you can, with what you have, where you are”. From late 1988 to early 1991 I had largely unfettered access to the George Town Swimming Centre. Initially my parents purchased a season pass for the family, after 18 months I was working there, and for most of that period I had a key and went whenever I liked.

I’ve always liked the feeling of being immersed in water. Bath time was bliss. I always wanted to stay in the water longer than I was allowed. This did not naturally translate into swimming however. I was not afforded the opportunity to learn to swim as a child. Neither of my parents swam, and Dad still describes his swimming ability being akin to a rock. Dad has been known to wear a life jacket in a public pool, such is his fear of drowning.

My first school swimming experiences were in Grade 2 and Grade 3, both at the homes of my public school teachers. They too made the most off what they had given George Town didn’t have a public pool. My Grade 2 teacher had an in ground pool and he took his young pupils on an excursion to his West Tamar home just prior to Christmas in 1982. I got in the water, but didn’t venture off the edge. I held onto the brick surrounds so tight that once back on the bus to return home my finger tips were bleeding from the constant gripping of the abrasive brick pool edge. The following year, my Grade 3 teacher had a small above ground pool and in pairs we were taught to float and glide. I evidently struggled to keep my legs together so the teacher tied my ankles together with a stocking. This only served to make me feel unsafe and my skill level failed to improve.

In Grade 5 and 6 we did a rotation of Learn to Swim at the small outdoor pool attached to the other Primary School, next to the High School. My reports say that I managed 5m unassisted. I claimed to Mum and Dad that I had slipped as I pushed off to swim, but the reality was I couldn’t swim. This continued in Grade 7 when the new pool in George Town hosted its first high school swimming carnival. I entered the backstroke event only, given this was the only stroke that I could perform to any degree and not touch the bottom repeatedly. I recall getting caught in the lane rope during the race, catching a mouthful of water as I tried to untangle myself, and touched the bottom anyway to be disqualified. I sat on the hill for the rest of the day knowing I wanted to do better.

So, every evening I was at the pool, I set about watching the swim club swimmers and listening in to their coaches. I wasn’t a member of the club, but I made sure I was in the pool, or in the vicinity to watch what was going on. I would take note and practice the next time I could. My freestyle and backstroke improved, and breast stroke was coming along. But butterfly remained an absolute mystery.

In 1989, when I was working regularly at the pool with my mate, we would often finish our shift and go for a quick swim. My mate was three years older than me, and he could perform a couple of strokes of butterfly. I would copy him, and slowly we built the strength and refined the technique without any qualified instructor input. Every day of summer 1989-90 I would practice butterfly and I increased my efficiency and loved the feeling of moving through the water at speed with my arms and dolphin kick synchronised. All that said, I would have benefited from a swim coach and today I still have technique errors that stem from that ‘self taught’ time.

In March 1990, I participated in the high school swim carnival as a Grade 10 student, and this time I entered all the races for every stroke. My main rivals were the two peers that had been swimming champions in Grade 8 and Grade 9. I was determined to give each race everything I had. I won backstroke, and came second in breast stroke, and I won the freestyle by a whisker. But it was the butterfly race that I really wanted to win. I had swam well inside the school record during PE class, and I wanted to re-write the carnival record book. Atop the blocks in the butterfly final I was poised waiting of the starters gun. I could hear the announcer playing up to the crowd, saying “look at Paul’s glistening bronzed body”. I lost my concentration and fell in the water. I regrouped for the restart, and then broke a second time trying too hard to get a flying start. I was out. No record, no points, a complete fail. That day, I was to tie for Grade 10 Swim Champion. I could have owned it outright; all I had to do was finish the race. A lesson learned. I let the pursuit of the perfect get in the way of the good.

As it turned out, I was permitted to represent the school at the Inter-high Swimming Carnival in butterfly and freestyle several weeks later. However my training and racing was severely affected by a swollen knee. I had pinched the joint capsule of my right knee while getting out of the pool several days before the carnival and it was so swollen I could barely bend my leg. I raced, but the freestyle flutter kick left me in immense pain. The butterfly dolphin kick was easier but I was up against club racers from city schools and was defeated convincingly. The winner of the butterfly event that day was Jonathon – the kid I met at the Grade 4 Maths-Science camp years before (see related post). We were to unite again three years later as undergraduate human movement students (see related post), learning to teach all sports, including swimming.

Postscript

paul is committed to ensuring every Tasmanian child is taught and can swim competently to save their life before the age of 10.