taking the big leap

One pleasant afternoon this summer, I was camped out in my usual spot near the diving well at the Kanawha Recreation Association engrossed in the latest edition of Sports Illustrated. Maybe it’s the result of three-plus decades of eating lunch in a school cafeteria, but I’ve always found I can concentrate pretty well at the pool despite the constant activity, noise, and occasional splashes that otherwise might be distractions.

On this particular day, though, I was part of a rapt audience as a little girl, perhaps three years old, climbed the steps and tentatively made her way to the end of the diving board. She peered into the water, perhaps a meter away, but for her the distance must have seemed much greater, for she quickly retreated. Her dad, who had been sitting on the side of the pool, swam over and gently coaxed her back.

“Come on, sweetie,” he said.  “You can do it.”

A smile crossed her face.  She bent her knees.  She threw her arms back as she prepared to launch her body into the blue-hued water. Then, she hesitated.  She stood up straight and giggled nervously.

“OK,” her dad said, again very gently.  “I’ll count.”

She repeated her pose.  The folks at poolside and in the line at the steps watched expectantly.

“One. Two. Three!”

No action.  The little girl stood up straight once again.  The nervous smile reappeared.

“OK, sweetie,” her dad said without a hint of impatience.  “Others are waiting their turn.  You have to either dive in or get off.”

Once again, she moved down the board, cautiously considered her situation, and, in a literal leap of faith, plunged feet-first into the 11-foot deep water. 

A split second later, she emerged snuffling and snorting, and as the others hurried about their business or returned to their conversations, she swam to the side with her father as he whispered gently to her. My guess is that he was praising her in words a pre-schooler could understand for taking a risk, for having the courage to attempt a feat that actually scared her a bit, and for conquering her fears.

What I witnessed that afternoon at Kanawha was a memorable snapshot from a very eventful summer. It was also, in clear, simple form, an example of the type of experience the children entrusted to us must face if they are to challenge their limits and approach their potential.

All of us – teachers, coaches, and parents -- want our children to succeed, but a reality of life is that they’ll confront many situations that force them from their comfort zone and where disappointment, if not failure, is a distinct possibility.

As we begin a new school year, it’s important to remember that the obstacles they must overcome in the classroom, on the athletic field, and in their relationships serve a wonderful purpose, for without them they would have scant preparation for the world beyond North Mooreland Road.

Just as the father drew the best from his young daughter, our responsibility is to encourage, to lend moral support without making the path too smooth, and to provide that safety net built on trust and respect that’s essential to their growth.