My best accomplishment the one I’m most proud of achieving, came in the form of a challenge. Someone told me I couldn’t, or wouldn’t be able, to do it.
Growing up in a large family, I knew money was always tight. If I needed new sneakers, I knew I would eventually get them, but only if one of my other siblings didn’t need a pair more than I did at the moment.
I looked forward to turning sixteen and getting my driver’s license and my first job, so I could make my own spending money. My sixteenth birthday would be in August.
One morning, in July, like most summer days, my family piled into our station wagon and headed to a local swimming hole, a popular lake just outside of town. It had a sandy beach, lifeguards, slides, and two long piers out to the low and high diving boards. There was also a dance pavilion, picnic area, and a walking path all the way around the lake.
My youngest brother and sister took their Red Cross swimming lessons every day, while the rest of us dived and swam, or just worked on our tans.
When we arrived and were walking through the building to the lake, I saw a sign taped to the wall:
“Do You Want to be a Lifeguard?
The Red Cross Lifeguard Course
Sign Up is Today.”
(I’m a good, strong swimmer and I love children. I could do that!)
I pointed to the sign and told my parents I wanted to sign up for the course. The course was Monday through Friday for four weeks. The hours would work, because we would already be there for the swimming lessons.
I went up to the window and asked the woman where I should sign up for the course. She disappeared and a former high school football player I recognized appeared in the window.
David told me I couldn’t sign up for the course — I was a girl. This was a physically challenging course and I just wouldn’t be able to do it. He was looking for boys to sign up, preferably boys who were also trying out for the football team.
Dejected, I thanked him and went outside to share what I found out with my parents. After hearing what I had to say, my father asked, “Do you really want to be a lifeguard?”
“Yes!”
“So, are you going to let what he said stop you from trying?”
I had to think about that for a minute …
It did make me angry to be told I couldn’t do something, just because I was a girl. After all, my parents had raised me to never give up. “Girls can do anything boys can do, except stand up to potty.”
I marched back inside and up to the window. I asked to see David. Then I asked him, “Where on the sign up sheet does it say girls are not allowed?”
I was the only girl in a class of fifteen to take the Red Cross Lifeguard Course that summer. It was the hardest thing I had ever done up to that point in my life.
David was the instructor and I knew what he demanded of me was far more difficult than what he had the boys do during the course. He seemed hell-bent on making me quit, which made me even more determined.
When he threw a concrete cinder block into the deep end for a boy to retrieve, he threw mine out farther, deeper. When we had to swim laps on our backs between the piers, I had to swim with my arms in the air, using only my legs.
(I can do this, I can do this, I can do this, I can do this, I can do this …)
The day of the final test came. The class size had dwindled from fifteen to nine, over the past four weeks.
David stood in front of us and said he would be out in the water, thrashing like a drowning man. One by one, we would be called to ‘rescue’ him. This would be a Pass or Fail final test.
We were to run down the pier closest to him and jump in, keeping our heads above water, as we were taught, so our eyes never left the victim. Then using the skills we were taught, bring him to the steps at the pier.
I reminded myself of what he had taught us, “Be aware, a thrashing victim will be terrified. He thinks he’s drowning and will use any means of saving himself, even climbing up your body, if he has to! Do whatever it takes to save him.”
I had made it this far, I thought. I can do this, too.
I waited for my turn. I watched, as four boys tried and passed. I listened while four boys tried and failed. Oh my God. I was the last one. Why had he made me wait and be last?
“Catherine!”
I jumped up and ran down the pier. Directly across from him, I jumped in, swimming hard the last three feet to him. Like he said he would, he was thrashing wildly.
I scissor-kicked hard to put myself behind him, reached out and grabbed him securely by throwing my arm across his chest, my wrist under his armpit, and held on tight, pulling him toward me, which forced his body to a floating position and I began the hardest swim strokes I had ever done toward the ladder on the pier.
Suddenly, he did an about face and broke my hold. Then he pushed me under the water, still thrashing and yelling, “Help! Help!”
Wait! He didn’t do that with the others in the class! His words came back to me, “Do whatever it takes to save someone.”
Again I maneuvered around behind him and used the same rescue hold. He was fighting me, and this time I dug my fingernails deep into the skin just behind his armpit and continued to swim, pulling him along, working as hard as I could.
I could feel the muscles in my arms and legs burning, but I was not going to give up.
(I can do this, I can do this, I can do this, I can do this, I can do this …)
Finally I reached the pier and pushed him over to the steps. He sputtered and yelled at me, “You used your fingernails! You cheated!”
Exhausted and angry, I yelled back, “You TOLD us to do whatever it takes to save someone. I DID!”
Then he smiled.
“Pass.”
Published Poet/Writer/Author of 5 books.
Quora Top Writer 2018
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