Help!
Help! Help! I yelled during the bitter winter of 2009 at the Hunter College
swimming pool. The water felt colder than the blizzard blast. Coach Alex swam
faster than a killer whale and saved the other student, John, and me. This experience
was the electrifying start of my swimming career...
When I was about five, I started
swimming classes at the Hunter College. Coach Alex was an impressive
instructor; he swam swiftly through the water like a jet plane. I went there
for five months, which was one session. However, we stopped going there because
the commute was terribly terrible, so we had to find a closer swimming school.
No need to explain the next place we
tried and hated! The conditions were extremely dreadful. I was there only once.
After going to that awful place, we
took private lessons with Jenny, my nanny’s niece. I learned floating, kicking,
streamlining, freestyle breathing, and breathing under water. I had lessons from
her for the summer, but we stopped going there because she had to leave for
college. Now I feel enriched with basic swimming knowledge.
My dad went to the Flushing Meadow
Aquatic Center’s swimming school and tried to sign me up, but they were full. They
suggested us to go to Gateway, a swimming school that rented their space. We walked
over to Gateway and signed me up for two sessions. Half a year later, my dad
asked me if I wanted to try Swimania. I was stubborn at first because I like
sticking with the familiar. But then, I wanted to change swimming schools
because Gateway talks too much.
Swimainia is BOSS, my way of saying THE
BEST. Swimainia is the current swimming school I am in. I have progressed tremendously
after one year. I now know freestyle, backstroke, breaststroke, and butterfly (still
working on). Sometimes, if we complete our lesson earlier than usual, we can
have free time and play around. We can have fun! We can be kids! Because we
swim more, I learn how to swim quicker. Swimania is BOSS.
Then on August 14, 2014, at the Baruch
College Summer Camp, there was a one-on-one breaststroke race between two
swimmers. The competitors were The Freestyle Master and The Breaststroke Master.
The Masters dived off the boxes and into the pitch-dark eight-feet water. They
quickly kicked themselves up to the horizon of the mighty deep water. The
Breaststroke Master immediately started the breaststroke with streamline
position. He then pushed myself with his arms and feet to the forbidden border
of the deep end and the shallow end. His feet snapped like a lean bamboo-green
frog. Both Masters bolted to the end, neck to neck, until they were a yard away
from the starting point, which was the end as well. I, The Breaststroke Master, won by a tiny
inch!
I finally became the best breaststroke
swimmer. Being the best takes time, patience, time, hard work, and MORE time.
Everything I have gone through paid off.
4 comments:
To The Breaststroke Master, I only wished I was half as good as you. Thanks for sharing your swimming adventures. I'll be watching out for you in future Olympics. : )
Great job on the essay, I could picture swimming next to you as you became The Breaststroke Master. Like Coach Jen, I'll be watching out for you in the Olympics. -Grace Tran
The Breaststroke Master. I love your description. Your writing is exciting, I feel as if I'm with you all along and can't help cheering you all the way. Keep up the good work, I know you'll be a master at whatever you decide to do.
good job me har har har!
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