The Joys of Swimming for the Terminally Weak

Well, it looks like I’ve caved for yet another year.¬†

At the start of every school year, our school holds their annual swimming carnival. Students are expected to participate for their house, provided they can 1. swim, and 2. make it to the end of the pool.

Every year, I cave into the teachers because I have such a problem with telling them ‘no’. And they really are quite insistant that I swim, because… well, I earn points for the house even though I lose every single time, and there’s barely anyone else in my house’s age group who will swim. I’m the Event Filler.

But I tried to get out of it, this year, and came out of the teacher’s office feeling as though I’d been steered around the subject of throwing in the towel. I believe I said something to myself like “Damn it, I caved!”, so angrily that a number of kids passing by stopped and stared at me.

Well, here I go. I can’t swim for scratch. Heck with it, I can’t even make the full 50 metres without stopping halfway, and this time, for the first time ever, I haven’t swam in an entire YEAR.

Pray for me.

But, here comes the main point. Why are figures of authority, (teachers in particular) so hard for me to say ‘no’ to? I haven’t a problem with saying no to my parents, but there’s something about teachers that screams “Obey!”. I suppose… in a way, I feel like I owe something to them. The same ones who teach me are the same ones who ask me to swim. That, and the feeling of letting down the team¬†that I know I’ll get if I skip. And then there’ll be the disappointment from my teachers, and… oh, dear me.

If there’s one thing everyone needs to know in life, it’s how to say no. Even to figures of authority who can use persuasive techniques like knives.