“DO YOU KNOW WHAT THE FIRST LESSON OF DROWN CLASS IS?”
Not a peep, from any of them, just blank expressions. The wheels are spinning and not really going anywhere but, to be fair, they are pretty new wheels.
“The first lesson of drown class is jump into the deep end. The second rule is to do it without a life jacket, and the third and final rule is to do it unsupervised. Does anyone have any questions?”
Adele, one of the youngest, puts her hand up. “Miss, um, um. Do I have to go into the drowned-ing class?”
“Well, Adele,” I say. “That’s up to you isn’t it?” I turn my head a little to help her.
Adele gets out of the water and walks over to the rack of life jackets and puts one on. The others are still not there. Adele gets back in the water as I say, “That’s too bad, Adele, I’m disappointed you don’t want to take part in drown class. So sad. But I’m very excited that, judging by your lack of life jackets, the rest of you are ready to start drown class. So good to see! Let’s begin!”
I can already feel the parental disapproval burning a hole into the back of my head.
In a herd, sending Adele spinning, the rest of the kids climb out and go put on life jackets. Adele starts laughing and singing to herself, completely adrift and spinning in frictionless circles. Today, she wins.