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Swimming Reflection

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I was in 5th grade and school was going just fine. I had decent grades, some good friends, absolutely no athletic ability. Just your typical 10-year-old nerd. Soon, in Physical Education, we were going to start our swimming unit. The more athletic kids loved this; needless to say, I didn’t, and for one reason and one reason only; I never learned how to swim.
When the day of the first swimming unit started, I felt scared, or perhaps that’s my present emotions getting in the way of my past emotions. We entered the locker room and equipped ourselves with our swimming apparel and exited to the room with the pool. I could smell the chlorine in the air. Everyone in my class was seated on a large steel bench and divided into groups; Beginner, Intermediate, and Advanced.
Surprisingly enough, I was placed into the Intermediate group with two of my aforementioned friends. I felt a weird sense of pride as I walked past the others waiting to be assigned to a group with my new colleagues. Once everyone was assigned to a group, my group’s instructor yelled out, “Alright, get in the water and hold onto the side!” We did as we told, but what I didn’t know was that the height of the water in that area of the pool was greater than mine.
Next, he barked, “ Alright, we’re gonna swim to the deep end and back!”
At this point, the thoughts in my head probably resembled something like, “What!” or “How do you expect me to do that!” I figured it would be best not to argue and I instead shot off the
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