"You are the last!"
The boy sneered as S finally swam in, his fingers touching the edge of the pool. The others who were bobbing beside, laughed along loudly. Their taunts and laughter rang in my ears as I watched S go through his weekly swimming lesson. Time froze for a few beats as I felt the pain of rejection pang in my heart.
Amidst the jeers, I watched S give the boys a quizzical glance, then he turned and began his next lap. He kicked harder for the initial few strokes until his stamina fizzled out, before resuming his leisurely pace again. I watched, unsure if S was aware of the taunts, and fleetingly thought it not a bad thing to be in his own world at times like these.
While I am heartened to see that he isn't overly affected by this episode, this hurt that I have witnessed once too many time has constantly spurred me on to build a resilience in him, and equip him with the knowledge that he has the choice to walk away instead of responding to such unkind remarks.
From school settings and lessons such as these, it has become apparent that S will have little friends throughout his childhood. And although it shouldn't come as a surprise as we were well aware of the limits of his social skills, the truth was that it still hurt.
It hurt to see him often alone, to be part of a group; but yet apart from everyone else, wandering around the fringe of cliques.
It hurt to see him ostracized at the playground; ganged upon without any 'allies' by his side.
It hurt to see him muster up confidence to start a conversation, only to have that person lose interest in maintaining the thread a short while later.
It hurt to not see his eyes light up when he talks about his best friend, simply because he does not have one.
S has been learning swimming for a few years now, and although his initial group of swim-mates have already progressed to the next level, and maybe the next, S is only beginning to start moving on to the next stage. His strokes are still a bit weak, but he is able to swim with relative ease and has acquired a pretty good sense of confidence in water.
Compared to the very beginning when he would sit at the edge of the pool and bawl his eyes out each time the coach brought him to the deep end, S has improved much, albeit at his own pace. It will take him a bit longer to learn how to swim well, but we will get there, one lap at a time.
We want him to learn how to swim because it is a life skill that may come in handy in future.
We want him to learn how to make friends, because it is easier to get things done when there are people around to lend a hand.
We want him to learn how to speak up because when he needs help, he will be able to ask for it.
We also want him to learn self-reliance, because there will not always be friendly people around to render assistance.
We want him to learn to be comfortable in his own company, and that it is perfectly okay to be alone at times.
Above all, we want him to know that while we may be slow, heck, even last, we will get to the ending point, in our own way, at our own time. Like the tortoise in the race, we just have to keep on going.
Or, in a generation beyond Aesop's fables, just like Turbo the snail.
