It was my first week in the equivalent of first grade during swim class. We were all decked out in our blue bathing suits or trunks and white swim caps marching in single file towards the pool. I don’t remember if I was excited or not but I remember how inviting the blue water looked in the afternoon sun. Then the coach yelled for everyone to jump in the water. I remember hesitating, oblivious to all the splashing and joyous screams around me. It was just me and the water. I kept running and stopping right at the edge. I was scarred because I did know how deep it was. The coach was yelling for me to get in and the other kids joined in. Finally he came over and just when I thought he was going to help me somehow he shoved me right in. I remembering being underwater unable to breath, screaming and swallowing water as I did. Then crying, my arms flailing as I broke the surface of the water. Then I heard he coach yelling ‘put your feet down, stand’. He keep yelling as he stood a edge of the pool watching me. I thought is he seriously going to watch me drown? When I realized he wasn’t going to get in and help me I followed his instructions and found my footing in the shallow water.