Do you remember when you were learning to swim?
The instructor would walk along the side of the pool next to you like their presence there brought order to the madness of each child frantically getting their arms over again before their head falls below the water level.
Some managed it! They glided through the water to reach the other side. With or without grace and style, they were doing it and they were ready to make the grade at the deep end. Of course, there were those who didn’t even try. They preferred the safety and comfort of being able to stand up, head above water. No risk, no failure!
Those that held the admiration of the onlooking parents though were the ‘triers’ – of course. The input, significant, the progress, less so! They spent more time going down than forward. Some of these realised they could plant their feet on the bottom, steady themselves and try again. Naturally there were those who didn’t really realise this and got themselves in a bit of a mess.
There was always one however, one who would go unnoticed to most. He didn’t fall into any of the other groups. He would swim, but every other stroke would involve a push start from one of his feet holding himself up and driving him forward. An artform was made out of this style and would be able to hide his inability to his peers.
He would be sent up to the deep end to join the rest who were starting to become strong swimmers but of course he wasn’t a strong swimmer, he will be out of his depths but pride makes it very difficult to admit at this stage that isn’t ready.
That last child, is you…
