Monday afternoons were not usually anyone’s favourite time.
For adults, Monday meant emails, meetings, forgotten passwords, and the slow realisation that the weekend had somehow disappeared despite everyone being absolutely certain they had only just started enjoying it.
For children, Monday meant school.
And today, school followed by a swimming lesson.
Usually their swimming lesson was at the weekend, but due to some mysterious arrangement involving pool bookings, fixtures and the complicated world of people who decide who is allowed to splash around in a large building full of water, their lesson had been moved to Monday after school.
Mrs Brand had described this as “slightly inconvenient but manageable.”
Mr Brand had described it as “a logistical challenge.”
Barry had described it as:
“Why do we have to swim when we’re already tired?”
Nobody had an answer that he considered acceptable.
By half past three, both boys had finished school and were collected.
Barry climbed into the car.
Marmaduke climbed in beside him.
Alfie was already doing homework.
Because of course he was.
Alfie considered homework an enjoyable activity.
He had once told Mr Brand that he liked “the satisfaction of completing a task.”
Mr Brand had looked at him and wondered whether he had accidentally raised a small accountant.
Barry, meanwhile, considered completing a task something that should only happen if there was absolutely no other choice.
Mrs Brand handed them their swimming bags.
“Remember, you need to listen carefully today.”
“Why?” asked Barry.
“Because Claire is going to assess you.”
Barry froze.
“Assess?”
“Yes.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means she’s checking what you can do.”
Barry thought about this.
“So she’s watching?”
“Yes.”
Barry immediately became suspicious.
Marmaduke smiled.
“I like being watched when I’m swimming.”
Barry looked at him.
“Why?”
“Because then I know I’m doing it right.”
Barry considered this.
“That sounds like a lot of pressure.”
Mr Brand laughed.
“Swimming lessons generally involve someone checking whether you can swim.”
Barry sighed.
“Seems unfair.”
“How?”
“I’m trying to relax.”
“You’re learning a safety skill.”
“I can relax safely.”
“No.”
Barry accepted that this was unlikely to be a winning argument.
They arrived at the pool.
The boys changed.
Marmaduke was ready quickly.
Barry was not.
This was not because Barry struggled with getting changed.
He simply believed that every item of clothing deserved a full investigation.
His swimming shorts needed examining.
His towel needed folding.
His goggles needed testing.
His bag needed rearranging.
Mr Brand watched.
“Barry.”
“Yes?”
“We need to go.”
“I’m nearly ready.”
“You said that three minutes ago.”
“I’m almost more ready now.”
Mr Brand decided not to ask what that meant.
Eventually they reached the pool.
Claire, their swimming teacher, smiled.
“Hello boys!”
“Hello Claire!” said Marmaduke.
Barry waved.
Claire gathered the group.
“Today is a really exciting lesson.”
Barry looked interested.
“We’re doing certificates.”
Barry immediately looked less interested.
Marmaduke looked delighted.
Claire continued.
“For your first swimming certificate, I need to see that you can do a few things.”
The children listened.
“For backstroke, I need you to be comfortable putting your head in the water.”
Marmaduke nodded.
“For front crawl, I need your face in the water while you swim.”
Barry looked at the water.
Then at Claire.
Then at Mr Brand.
Mr Brand gave him the look.
The look every parent develops.
The look that says:
You know exactly what you need to do.
Barry knew.
He just wasn’t thrilled about it.
The lesson began.
Marmaduke was excellent.
He listened.
He followed instructions.
When Claire said:
“Head back, ears in the water.”
He did it.
When Claire said:
“Face down, breathe out.”
He did it.
When Claire corrected his arms, he adjusted.
He didn’t complain.
He didn’t negotiate.
He didn’t attempt to explain that his personal swimming technique involved keeping his face mostly available for breathing.
He simply did what he was asked.
Barry watched.
“Why are you doing it?”
Marmaduke looked confused.
“Because Claire said.”
Barry frowned.
“That’s your reason?”
“Yes.”
Barry considered this.
It was annoyingly sensible.
When it was Barry’s turn, Claire smiled.
“Okay Barry, let’s see your backstroke.”
Barry climbed onto his back.
He put his head back.
For approximately one second.
Then he lifted it.
Claire smiled.
“Good try. Remember, ears in the water.”
Barry nodded.
Then he put his head back again.
This time for two seconds.
Then he lifted it.
Claire smiled.
“Nearly.”
Barry smiled back.
He had mastered the art of looking like he was trying.
Which, unfortunately, was not the same as actually doing the thing.
Mr Brand watched.
He knew Barry.
Barry was clever.
Barry was capable.
Barry was also extremely talented at giving maximum effort only when someone was directly observing him.
When Claire looked away, Barry’s head came out of the water.
When Claire looked back, Barry immediately returned to position.
It was impressive.
Not the swimming.
The timing.
It was like watching a tiny four-year-old actor performing in a very wet theatre production.
Then came front crawl.
Marmaduke went first.
Face in the water.
Arms moving.
Kicking.
Breathing.
Claire smiled.
“Excellent, Marmaduke.”
Barry watched.
Then it was his turn.
“Okay Barry.”
Barry pushed off.
His face went in.
For a moment.
Then up.
“Good,” said Claire. “Try to keep it in a little longer.”
Barry nodded.
He tried again.
Face in.
Then up.
Then he looked at Claire.
“Was that good?”
Claire smiled.
“You need to keep practising.”
Barry looked disappointed.
“But I did it.”
“You did.”
“So why isn’t it done?”
Claire crouched down.
“Because swimming is something you build up over time.”
Barry did not like this answer.
He preferred achievements that could be completed immediately.
Like eating a biscuit.
Or finding a stick.
Or deciding he was a guitarist.
At the end of the lesson, the children lined up.
Claire held the certificates.
“Marmaduke.”
Marmaduke stepped forward.
“You have passed Stage 1.”
Marmaduke beamed.
Mr Brand clapped.
Barry clapped too.
But his smile faded slightly.
Then Claire turned.
“Barry.”
Barry stepped forward.
Claire smiled kindly.
“You’ve made progress, but you haven’t quite shown me enough consistency yet.”
Barry looked confused.
“I did it.”
“You did.”
“Sometimes.”
“Yes.”
“So?”
Claire smiled.
“Next time, I need you to do it every time, not just when I’m looking.”
Barry immediately looked at the floor.
Because unfortunately, Claire had discovered his exact swimming strategy.
The journey home was quiet.
Usually Barry had about twelve thousand things to say.
Today he didn’t.
Mr Brand waited.
He knew better than to immediately launch into a lecture.
Eventually Barry spoke.
“Marmaduke passed.”
“Yes.”
“I didn’t.”
“No.”
“He’s better than me.”
Mr Brand looked at him.
“That’s not what happened.”
“Yes it is.”
“No.”
Barry looked confused.
Mr Brand continued.
“Marmaduke did something really well today.”
“Yes.”
“He listened.”
“Yes.”
“He practised.”
“Yes.”
“He kept trying.”
Barry nodded.
Mr Brand smiled.
“That’s why he passed.”
Barry looked out of the window.
“I tried.”
“You did.”
“But not enough?”
Mr Brand nodded.
“Not consistently enough.”
Barry was quiet.
That word was difficult.
Consistency.
It sounded like a grown-up word.
It sounded like something written on a spreadsheet.
But actually, it was simple.
“It means doing something properly again and again,” explained Mr Brand.
“Even when nobody is watching?”
“Exactly.”
Barry thought about that.
“That’s hard.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because when nobody is watching, it’s easy to stop trying.”
Barry nodded.
“That happens.”
Mr Brand laughed.
“It happens to everyone.”
Barry looked surprised.
“Even adults?”
“Especially adults.”
“Do you?”
Mr Brand thought.
“Yes.”
“What?”
“Exercise.”
Barry laughed.
“You stop exercising?”
“Sometimes.”
“Even though you know you should?”
“Yes.”
Barry smiled.
“That’s funny.”
“It is.”
They drove for a little while.
Then Barry said:
“I’m happy Marmaduke passed.”
Mr Brand smiled.
“Good.”
“He worked hard.”
“He did.”
“And he’s my friend.”
“He is.”
Barry paused.
“I wanted to pass too.”
“I know.”
“But I’m glad he did.”
Mr Brand looked at him.
“That’s a very important thing to learn.”
“What?”
“Being happy for someone else’s success, even when you wanted that success yourself.”
Barry nodded slowly.
“That’s called being a good friend.”
“Yes.”
“And being a good sport.”
“Yes.”
Barry smiled.
“Marmaduke is a good swimmer.”
“He is.”
“I’m going to practise.”
Mr Brand smiled.
“Good.”
“So I can pass next time.”
“Yes.”
“And then Marmaduke can be happy for me.”
“Exactly.”
When they arrived home, Marmaduke was waiting with Marjory.
He was still proudly holding his certificate.
Barry got out of the car.
“Marmaduke.”
“Yes?”
“Congratulations.”
Marmaduke smiled.
“Thank you.”
“You did really well.”
“So did you.”
Barry shook his head.
“I didn’t pass.”
“But you tried.”
Barry thought about this.
“I need to try every time.”
Marmaduke nodded.
“Then you’ll get it.”
Barry smiled.
Then he added:
“Next lesson, I’m putting my face in the water loads.”
“Good.”
“Even when Claire isn’t looking.”
Marmaduke grinned.
“That’s the point.”
Barry nodded.
He had learned something important.
Not about swimming.
Not yet.
But something even more useful.
Winning felt good.
Passing felt good.
Getting a certificate felt good.
But being the kind of person who works hard, supports friends and keeps trying?
That was something worth practising too.
Although, Barry did have one final question.
“Dad?”
“Yes?”
“Do I still get a snack even though I didn’t pass?”
Mr Brand laughed.
“Yes.”
“Good.”
Because while Barry was learning consistency, patience and sportsmanship…
There were some lessons that were already completely mastered.
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