I was in my third to fifth grade year at my elementary school, St. Thomas Aquinas, and other local private schools would co-op with the YMCA for afterschool activities and once in a while a sleep-over. It would last a few days a week for several weeks. It mostly consisted of gym activities and swimming. The big blue bus would approach our school. Over the PA system the secretary would announce, "The kids heading to the YMCA may now board the bus." We would leave a few minutes early from the rest of the school because there were several schools the bus had to stop at. It was grand to stand up and head out to the lockers to grab your garb and proceed to the bus.
We all gathered into the meeting area with vending machines and arcade games. A few played and several gathered around to talk. A guide would show up and split us up into groups. Half went to the gym and the other half went to the pool area. We walked along the long hallways looking at pictures of past people on the walls. We were only allowed to stay in certain areas of the YMCA and were forbidden to leave our group. We all knew the rest of the building housed ex-con's and used as a half-way house. We were curious to see them and wondered what they lived like but we were too young to take the risk to venture off alone.
The lucky ones started with swimming. Every now and there we had to start off with gym. It wouldn't of been so bad except the floor was carpeted. There was a larger gym but it was used for adults. During the sleep overs we would get to use the upper balcony which had a track and we had to run several laps around it and you can see down to the main floor of people playing basketball. If you fell while playing dodgeball or spud or some other fun game it would hurt. You would get rugburn on your knees very easily then to splash in the clorine pool afterwards, ouch! During the sleepovers the carpeted gym is where we usually slept.
Coming from the gym I remember passing by the raquet ball courts. People were usually in there having a game. It looked fun. I never played it but I remember hearing the squeeks of their shoes and the sound the ball would make hitting the raquet, off the wall, and off the raquet again. As we got closer I remember seeing pictures of swimmers who won past awards for the Y. They were on both sides of the hallway. I always wondered exactly what they did that was so great to have their picture posted up on the wall.
Finally it was pool time. There were 2 pools. One was a shallow pool and one was a deeper pool for the more experienced swimmers. At first there was freetime in the shallow pool for everyone. We goofed off, as kids do, splashing and playing. Then we broke up into different classes depending on your swimming skills. Some were pollywogs, some were minnows. Others were fish, flying fish, piranha and eventually shark. I was a piranha. That meant I got to swim in the deep pool. The deep pool was so much colder than the shallow pool. It took a lot of energy from everyone in my class to take that first jump into that pool. But after we got used to it then at the end jumped back into the shallow pool it felt like a sauna. Just wonderful.
I had two instructors that I remember. Art - a lanky old guy wearing a speedo that was more wrinkled than a shar pei. Even at a young age I knew that was just wrong. Nonetheless he was a great teacher. I can still see his long boney arms extending out in front to show us the freestyle stroke and when our right arm is extended back in the water elbows should be up and we should look like we are looking over our right shoulder and inhale. When the right arm extends back forward our faces turn back into the water where we exhale.
Julie was another instructor. She looked like Kit from the movie A League of their Own. I remember her teaching the back stroke - pinky fingers first into the water behind the head and push the water sideways to propell your body faster in the water. She would get mad at us if we just splashed our hands straight back. Pinky's first. Kicking! Don't bend the knees. Keep your knees straight and move from your hips.
Swimming in the deep pool was hard work. I was in the 4th grade and I remember doing 100 meters of different strokes, freestyle, breast, back, butterfly. We had to tread for what seemed like forever. We would stare up at the clock at the wall and it seemed like forever for the second hand to go around, and the minute hand seemed non-moving. Our heads would be back and water up to our ears as we would tread doing both the scissor kick and the bicycle movement and our arms pushing the water below us to keep us afloat.
A few years later I attended White Pine Middle School in Saginaw. Swimming was part of gym there and it came easy for me. In 8th grade I was even on the swim team. I was in the middle as far as speed was concerned. I wasn't the fastest but I wasn't the slowest either. Stepping up on the white blocks, bending over getting ready to hear the gun fire then BANG! off you dive into the water swimming with all your might. Coming up to the opposite wall you quickly dipped under the water for a summersalt twist and push off the wall to race up to the other side. You can't hear anything. It's just you pushing yourself against the water faster and faster. Entering high school the public school called and asked if I would be interested in being a part of the swim team. I was honored but I was headed over to the catholic high school and they didn't have a pool. So that ended my swimming competitions. I probably would of never had those opportunities if it wasn't for those early elementary years at the YMCA.
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