Overcoming Obstacles: Learning New Lessons

“It’s time to go, hurry up!” screamed my mom in Chinese. It was time for my first swimming lesson. Believing it was an important skill, my parents had signed me up without telling me many details. They just told me that I was going to swimming lessons. I was indifferent to this as I didn’t play any sports, I much preferred to stay home and watch cartoons. Due to this, I never really experienced overcoming a tough obstacle. I still remember the first time I walked into the pool, it was huge and roared with energy. Teachers dove in and popped out like torpedoes. Students were laughing and full of energy. “Maybe this will be as fun as watching cartoons,” I thought to myself.

As the lessons started, I became increasingly driven. Even throwing up after swallowing some murky pool water didn’t discourage me. While the teachers cleaned the water, I would still practice outside the pool by motioning my arms in the air. The swimming lessons were beneficial to me. I grew a few inches and my parents said that I had developed broader shoulders. I even had a bigger appetite: I would bite down on a Popeyes three-piece meal every week after swimming. I wasn’t in the house all day. I was eager to go to practice every weekend. I even got mad at my dad for not driving to the pool faster.

After learning the freestyle and backstroke, next was the breaststroke. I wasn’t exceptional at either of them, but I could at least move in the direction I wanted. However, the breaststroke was counterintuitive to me, pushing harder doesn’t move you. At first, I could move just a little. The more I focused on my form, the worse I became. There was a point where I couldn’t even swim a meter, which puzzled my nine-year-old mind. In my head, I was pushing as hard as I could, yet I still couldn’t move. Seeing most of the students do the breaststroke and move around easily was disheartening. “Why can’t I do that?” I thought to myself. The idea of the other kids mocking me only fueled my anxiety. In reality, they couldn’t care less. Swimming didn’t bring the same joy as before.

My parents could see that I was struggling to do the breaststroke. After one lesson, to relieve some tension, my dad teased me. He jokingly told me, “All the other swimmers move like a frog but you move like a toad.” As my parents laughed, I sat in the car sulking. Then, I blurted, “I don’t want to swim anymore; I don’t like it anymore!” My dad apologized for the comment by offering to help as he had prior experience. I couldn’t practice at home because the bathtub was too small for me to push with all my might. I wasn’t a toddler anymore. I practice the movements on the floor. If I did a stroke the wrong, my dad would take my hands, like parents trying to teach their child how to use chopsticks.

Learning the breaststroke wasn’t a straightforward process. It took a few more lessons before I could move consistently. It took even more practice at home to remember the motions. It took the help of my teacher and dad until I could finally keep up with the other kids. I could move in the direction I wanted to and started to enjoy swimming again.

As I took an advancement test, I felt proud of myself for not quitting. Prior to this, no obstacle could hold me down. I never felt the despair of failing until learning the breaststroke. Swimming taught me that to get better at something I have to persevere— no matter how big the obstacle is. [628]