It was an offhand comment I made as we rushed out the door last week. Are you having fun at camp? I asked my son, Aviv.

The answer jarred me: A little yes, a little no.

A little no? What’s that supposed to mean? His day was full of singing, dancing, crafts, nature activities, sports, swimming and more swimming.

The pool was the culprit.

He loved free swim, splashing around, ducking beneath the surface, bobbing with floaties; he was not so fond of the swim lessons that kicked off each camp day. The instructors wouldn’t let him use a pool noodle. It was the equivalent of snatching a security blanket from a baby.
 
Aviv can swim – sort of.

Turns out he can swim better than most of the other 5-year-olds at camp. Swim instructors assessed the kids on the first day and separated them into two groups: “sink” or “swim.”

The good news is that Aviv got put in the second group, the swimmers. The bad news is that he was among its least accomplished members. I don’t think he liked that too much.
He pined to be in what he called the “drownding” group where most of his friends had landed. In the drownding group, he could rely on a pool noodle. But I fretted he wouldn’t progress as much as he would in a group where some kids, including his best friend, barely let the water creep above their knees.

It’s funny how you learn so much about your children when you least expect it. Every afternoon, I ask my son about camp. I don’t usually get much. He’s tired and skimps on the details.

And so a simple, offhanded question turned into a Teaching Moment. It’s one of those times when you know you have the potential to impart a significant life lesson if only you don’t screw it up.

For sure, there were lots of lessons to be learned here. About persistence and not giving up, about confidence, about overcoming anxiety.

What to do?

On one hand, I wanted to allay his anxiety. On the other, I didn’t want him to think it was okay to give up if he found something difficult.

Plus, swimming is a safety issue. If the instructors determined he should be in the swim group, shouldn’t we abide by their decision?

But he was already a step ahead of me. He’d sweet-talked his head counselor into letting him swap groups.

I tried to change his mind.

I pointed out how he’s so much further along than he was last year. At the beginning of last summer, the top of his head never dipped beneath the surface of the water. By the end, he was scouring the pool floor for dive sticks.

I told him how important swimming is. Did you know, I told him, that I had to pass a swim test to graduate from UNC-Chapel Hill?

He hadn’t known. He didn’t care.

I resorted to bribery. If he agreed to stick it out for one more week, at which time we’d reassess, he could get not one but two scrumptious popsicles the next time we went to Locopops, our latest dessert obsession.

It worked! He announced the flavors he’d order (chocolate lavender and chocolate brownie – does this kid like chocolate or what?!) and with that, he was back in the swim of things – or so I thought.

Then Sunday arrived, and he started talking again about being nervous. Was he telling the truth or was I being manipulated? Maybe both.

My dad always pushed my brother and me to do more, to do better. When we’d bring home a 95 on a test, he’d jokingly ask what happened to the other five points. At least I think he was joking.

Excelling was a way of life growing up.

I hope to create the same way of life for my own kids – but with a little less pressure.
So the drownding group it was.

His counselor had assured me the swim instructors encourage the kids to do the best they can, regardless of which group they’re in. Sure enough, Aviv came home from camp that next day eager to tell me how he glided further than the other kids in his group. Guess my worries about him regressing were for naught.

And he expressed amazement that now that he was in the drownding group, he was learning “so so so much.”

I guess sometimes you gain confidence by finding it at your own pace, in your own way, and not necessarily by pushing yourself.

“By the last week of camp,” he volunteered, “I think I’m going to be back in the swim group.”

“That’s great,” I cheered. “You just take your time.”

And I meant it.

Locopops isn’t going anywhere.

Bonnie appears every  Monday on TriangleMom2Mom.