Swimming blind

 Some kids used their canes to walk to the pool’s edge. I saw one little girl letting her seeing-eye dog lead her. They all got in the water, one guide by every kid, and waited for the on-your-mark-get set-go! Then off they went through the water on their float boards, most of them slowly, with lots of kicking and splashing. In the bleachers, I yelled encouragement along with the rest of the crowd of parents, grandparents, and friends.

It was the conclusion of the week-long Camp Spark, held on the campus of Linfield College. Sponsored by the Northwest Association for Blind Athletes (NWABA), this over-night camp “is tailored specifically to children, youth and young adults with multiple disabilities, in addition to being blind or visually impaired.” It aims to encourage self-confidence, leadership and friendship. In addition to swimming, the kids participate in tandem cycling, soccer, goalball (a sport especially for the visually impaired), and track, among other sports. Each kid has one guide for the whole week, some of them visually impaired young adults.

This was the first time I had ever attended a swim meet of blind and visually impaired children. It was amazing. I witnessed courage, confidence in the water, trust in their guides, and belief in themselves. The younger kids used float boards and kicked their legs. Their guide accompanied them in the water. The older kids (up to 14 years) swam unaccompanied, and some of them swam as fast and skillfully as sighted-people.

In every race, there were kids who got it and swam well, reaching the finish in good time. And there was at least one child in every race who flailed and splashed, advancing slowly by inches, while the guide encouraged. Even these kids all finished their races. As they reached the end of the pool, the audience cheered and hooted their congratulations, more so than for the actual “winners.” The kids all climbed out of the water beaming with pleasure. I understood that the goal was persistence, not competition.

We attended this event to cheer on our grandson, Peter, who is autistic as well as visually impaired. He’s an amazing kid (my grandmotherly objective assessment) and has learned to handle life almost like any other kid his age. When he first attended Camp Spark, several years ago, he was shy and held back from active participation. But this year showed his growth as a person who is going forward despite any “disability.” (I don’t like that word; it focuses on what a person can’t do, when there’s so much they can do. That’s what this camp is all about.)

Peter is now 14-years-old, one of the older kids, and he swam in two races: the crawl and the backstroke, both three-pool-length races. He surprised us; we didn’t realize how good he was, even though the family has a pool and all three kids are fish. He felt proud of how he did in the races. And we overheard him bragging to a friend about the people who had come to watch him: two parents, two grandparents, and an aunt and uncle. We wouldn’t have missed it.

When Grandpa Hal asked him how he managed to swim so straight, keeping right in his lane, Peter replied that he saw through his goggles a big dark line on the bottom of the pool, right in the middle of his lane. He just followed the line.

At the end of the meet, the campers and their families gathered for the official closing of the camp. The directors shared highlights of the week. No awards were presented because all the kids are considered winners. The director asked the graduating kids, those for whom this was their last time in camp because of age, to come up and tell how camp had helped them. My daughter encouraged Peter to go up, but Nope! He wasn’t having any of that. Two of his friends spoke, and then Peter, with a look of determination, walked to the front. Kristin gave me the victory sign. He spoke in typical Peter fashion, looking to the side rather than directly at the audience. He quickly mumbled a few sentences and quickly walked back to the family, accompanied by applause.

He is sad that this is his last time at Camp Spark, but one of the counselors told him he could come back next year as a guide. Again, Nope! Not me! There’s a strong likelihood he will change his mind by the time next summer rolls around.

I’m proud to live in a country (the Northwest part of it in particular) that offers so many resources for children with special challenges. Cheers for the Northwest Association of Blind Athletes! And thanks for all the other organizations and programs that help these kids accept themselves, know their strengths, develop new skills, and live active lives.

And, of course, I’m very proud of Peter.

                    After the race: Peter with Mom, Kristin (my daughter)