Title: to the end of an era
Happy Chinese New Year!
In the spirit of honoring traditions and it being my final quarter of Homeroom, I wanted to reflect on my college experiences again, one last time (I mean who is really surprised, it is me writing after all <3).
Now… how should we begin?
So much has happened these past three years, that I’m not really sure where to start.
Hmm…
Well! Whenever I’m feeling lost, I like to think back to my favorite author and podcaster: John Green.
So, let’s begin with one of his quotes.
There’s this saying of his that comes to mind when I’m hit with sudden overwhelming waves of nostalgia:
“History, like human life, is at once incredibly fast and agonizingly slow.”
― John Green, The Anthropocene Reviewed: Essays on a Human-Centered Planet
It’s just like that Smash Mouth song, isn’t it?
Yeah, with the lyric about how the years start coming and then they [REALLY] don’t stop coming.
These lines always make me think about how when we’re actively working through something, the process always feels infinitely long and like we’ll never make it through.
But, once we’ve made it out to the other side and look back, nostalgia sweetens the ordeal and what we went through ends up feeling more okay in retrospect, right?
With this being my final quarter of undergrad, I can tell you that I’ve been doing A LOT of retrospection this past month.
But, I can’t just blame the end of college for my desire to reminisce, nor can I blame Swaraj’s statistics this time. The reason behind this month’s extreme sentimentality is mostly due to my swim lesson kids.
To provide some context, I started teaching private swim lessons last September after being approached by a group lesson parent at my community pool.
Despite having never taught private swim lessons before, those who know me know I love “committing to the bit” so, I readily agreed, which is how I ended up teaching 15 kids (and 2 adults) to swim over the past year and a half.
This February will be my final month teaching these weekly private lessons, marking the end of an era.
You know, it’s funny.
My college experience has been marked with the end of all sorts of eras, but if I’m being honest, ending swim lessons is the one that has made me the saddest.
The bittersweet feelings started the other week, as I was watching two of the kids I teach swim a 100-yard IM in the deep end (25 yards of each stroke swum continuously, for those not familiar). After telling them how proud I was of how far they’d come and how proud they should be of themselves, I asked if they remembered last January when I first started teaching them.
(When we started lessons, neither could swim more than a few feet on their own. So, we had spent countless weeks in the shallow end, developing their technique, until one day everything clicked, and they were swimming independently).
These kids stared at me incredulously, shaking their heads and yelling “NO WAY!” They both said they couldn’t remember ever not being able to swim on their own (my dear reader, I was slightly [read: extremely], flabbergasted by this response). It had taken us around three months alone, for them to fully be able to swim freestyle and backstroke independently.
Them not remembering when they couldn’t swim did make me start to wonder…
Years down the line: when these kids get to my age and they’re in college planning out their lives and future careers, making all these big decisions and being adults, will they even remember me?
Goodness, I really hope they do, but kids are fickle, so I know there’s no guarantee.
(Reader, what’s the earliest memory you can recall? Because when I think back, I find it difficult to remember moments from my own childhood before age five. [Wow, it actually might be over for me].)
Alright, well then if they don’t remember me (though I really hope they do), at the very least I hope they remember all that they’ve learned.
And, no I’m not just talking about how to swim (goodness, I really hope they don’t forget how to swim), but the fact that:
1. Learning is a continuous process.
2. You should enjoy the journey just as much as the result.
3. You don’t need to be perfect to have fun.
4. You are capable of hard things because you are oftentimes stronger than you think.
5. You should be proud of yourself and confident in your abilities because you worked hard to get to where you are.
Whenever I get too sad about lessons, I think of how far the kids have come and remind myself of another John Green quote that gives me solace.
“I'll never again speak to many of the people who loved me into this moment, just as you will never speak to many of the people who loved you into your now. So, we raise a glass to them--and hope that perhaps somewhere, they are raising a glass to us.”
― John Green, The Anthropocene Reviewed: Essays on a Human-Centered Planet
I know that even if these kids don’t remember me, I’ll always remember them and the lessons they taught me:
1. How to approach learning as a continuous journey.
2. How to adapt and be patient no matter what life throws my way.
3. How to be okay with not being perfect at something and enjoy it regardless.
4. How to be brave while facing challenges head-on.
5. How to approach new things with enthusiasm and really put in the work.
So, I can guarantee that I’ll always be here to raise a glass to them. And I can only hope, as we often must with those we will no longer see, that perhaps these kids will be out there all grown up someday, somewhere, somehow raising a glass right back to me.
Thank you for the past year and a half my swim kids, you all have my whole heart :) <3 !
