I am a lifeguard. A man walks up to me.

Swimmer: “What temperature is lane three in the lap pool?”

Me: “Seventy-seven degrees.”

Swimmer: *Scratches his head* “That’s too cold. What temperature are the other lanes?”

I work as a lifeguard. Two swimmers come up to me.

Swimmer #1: “Did you put something in the water to make it deeper?”

Me: “I… uh… What?”

Swimmer #2: “Yeah, like, it seems deeper than last time. Did you, like… change the water?”

Me: “…nope?”

Swimmers: *Amongst themselves* “Let’s just go. This water doesn’t look trustworthy.”

Related:
H2-Slow, Part 25
H2-Slow, Part 24
H2-Slow, Part 23
H2-Slow, Part 22
H2-Slow, Part 21

CONTENT WARNING: Gross

One summer during college, I worked at a gym teaching kids from ages four to ten how to swim. During my classes at the shallow end of the pool, there was also a Mommy And Me swimming class for infants, getting them used to the water while still being in a parent’s arms.

This was an exchange between me and the coworker teaching the infant class in between classes.

Me: “There’s something floating in the pool. Actually, there’s a lot of it.”

Coworker: *Offhandedly* “Oh, I think one of the infants in the Mommy And Me class pooped their pants and it spilled out into the water.”

Me: “Don’t we need to clear the pool and clean it since that’s biohazardous material?”

Coworker: “No, there’s so much chlorine in here that it was dead on contact.”

Now, this I would believe; the chlorine levels at this pool were enough that I ended each day with less leg hair than the day before, and it gave my eyes the look of someone who spent their summer at Woodstock.

My coworker then proceeded to jump into the pool and scoop the poop out by hand before welcoming the next class in.

Safe to say, those reasons are why that was my last summer teaching swim lessons.

I teach swimming to kids who already have their basic diplomas and just want to keep on swimming. Most of them are between the ages of twelve and nineteen, and it’s a complete mishmash. In my group, I have kids with ADHD, autism, physical disabilities, etc. I’ve known these kids for several years and we have a nice, balanced group. Honestly, the only trouble I have is with a girl in the midst of puberty. (I don’t wanna, I can’t do that, that’s too hard…)

The boys in this group are a bunch of rowdy ones. They are loud, they complain (and then start the exercise), and if anyone needs help, even for other groups, they jump out and help. One of the boys is quite shy and silent, never doing anything wrong. And the one time he decides to be “rough” (pulling another student backward), he causes a minor accident: a slight cut on three fingers.

The injured student calmly walks over to show me his wounds, and we go to the first aid post. (The lesson has already ended, so all kids are out of the water.) Bandage, done.

Me: “So, what happened?”

Boy #1: “Oh… eh… We were a bit rough. I was holding on to the side and I was pulled backward.”

Me: “I see. And who pulled you backward?”

Boy #1: “Oh, that was…” *Suddenly turns around* “Wait, where is [Boy #2]?”

Me: “I saw him heading to the showers.”

Boy #1: “I have to find him! I have to tell him I’m all right!”

Me: “Did [Boy #2] pull you?”

Boy #1: “Yes, but it was an accident! I have to let him know I’m fine! He must feel terrible!”

Together, we look for [Boy #2], but we’ve just missed him and he has already headed home. I tell the “victim” that I’ll ask if our administrator can call him. The administrator promises he will.

By chance, I see [Boy #2] on the street the next day. 

Me: “Hi, how are you? Hey, I talked to [Boy #1] and he is fine. He even made me promise to call you! He was really worried about you.”

Boy #2: “He was? Oh… Well, maybe my mom has been called…”

He looks down, but then he suddenly looks up with a smile.

Boy #2: “Thank you for letting me know he’s fine. I really appreciate that.”

Me: “Of course! And no one blames you, either; it was just an accident!” *Playfully* “Now, what have we learned?”

Boy #2: *Laughing* “Never pull someone backward!”

We just had our next lesson. [Boy #2] was teased about the accident for like three minutes and then the boys piled on top of each other again as if nothing had happened.

Related:
This Is What “Boys Will Be Boys” Should Mean

I teach swimming lessons to young children. One of the mothers thinks I’m way too lax with teaching. She thinks it’s my fault her child isn’t perfect after three lessons and just “playing around”. The kid is four years old and very playful. Focusing for forty minutes straight is just too hard for them. The mother complains every lesson that her “miracle” has made “so little progress”, while the kid is progressing normally. It is important to note that I am chubby.

The child is fooling around and I say:

Me: “Ho, ho!”

As in, “Be careful!”

Child: “You sound just like Santa!”

Instead, the child’s mother hears, “You are just like Santa!”

I hear a gasp from the side of the pool and see the mother turning red. She starts waving her hands.

Mother: “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry!”

I didn’t get any more complaints from the mother for the rest of the year. A wonderful Christmas gift from the child!