Excellence - A Habit, Not An Act

Yesterday I cried at school, just a few tears but tears nonetheless.  It was the third day at school.  That must be some kind of record, at least for me anyway.  It was one of those moments that you live for in teaching, when a child has a break through with something that they have been trying to crack for a long time.  In this case - four years.

Every year for four years during the summer months, a student in our school struggled through school swimming lessons.  Right from the start he wasn't sure of the water.  Perhaps terrified would be a more apt word.  Every year for four years his teachers would gently try and encourage him into the water, gradually getting more of his body wet, getting him into the water faster.  Every year his mother would come to us, concerned about her son's water confidence, his lack of water skills.  Wanting desperately for him to be like the other students who splashed and swam effortlessly.  This young boy would spend his time in the shallows, a teacher close at hand, repeatedly trying to put his chin, cheeks, nose under the water... even just letting his face get wet was hard for him.  Last year he progressed to blowing bubbles - a huge accomplishment.  We all celebrated with him, such was the enormity of what that meant for him.

This year started no differently.  A visit from a parent, loving mother, reminding us of her son's fear of water, hoping that he would get more confident again this season.  They'd (mother and son) made a deal - his whole head UNDER the water by the time he leaves our school in two years time.  Such small steps towards the  bravest of goals.

I knelt down beside him as he got into the water, crouching low to get as close to him as possible without getting wet myself.  The hard concrete of the pool's edge biting into my knees.

"You can do it".

"I want to try".

Quiet words between two people with trust joining them tangibly together.  He dipped lower into the water and I measured his attempts on his head, touching him lightly to show him how close he was getting.  Further and further he went down, inching towards this seemingly unattainable goal.  How does one so young demonstrate such perseverance in the face of such overwhelming fear?  I was in awe of him already.  I called over one of my colleagues as the top of his head was just barely visible above the water.  We watched together.  Held our breath.  Cheering him quietly on.

Then suddenly he was under.  Fully under.  For the first time in his life.

Tears.

The moment was so precious.  We jumped.  Cheered.  Celebrated and high-fived.  We showed the other teachers, took a video of his second dunk for his mother, who surely wouldn't believe us - two years early for this achievement.  Who would have thought?

And then his mother walked down the path towards the pool.  I ran.  Grabbed her.  Told her and as she realised what he'd done - tears.  Enormous hugs.  And then she was racing down to the pool to find her son.

I will never forget this.  I think it will live with me for a very long time.

That moment when someone demonstrates excellence.  This child who had repeatedly tried, struggled towards his own excellence had finally achieved it.  Four years.  Incredible.  Four years of a team of people quietly understanding the greater goal of excellence - that is an habit, not an act.  A repeated action towards success.  Four years of patience and perseverance.  Of bravery and encouragement.

And then this.  What a reward.