Letter of Recommendation: Floating

I learned to swim easily enough. My memories of lessons begin when I was 4, in the grand, echoey pool of the middle school that I was years away from attending. Through much cajoling by the amicable teenage instructors, I had overcome my initial fears and could jump into the pool unassisted, provided that someone was waiting to catch me. Soon I had graduated from arm floats and could splash my way from edge to edge with confidence, the aquatic tiles flying beneath me. I liked swimming because it rewarded dumb action: the more movement, the better. If you can flail, you can doggy paddle.