The method matters: why I do what I do
I find it deeply upsetting to watch videos of children showing distress during swimming lessons. Those images stay with me.
I think about what that child might be feeling. I wonder what happens when they are told it is time for their next lesson. And I think about the children who have come to me after unhappy or frightening experiences in the water, and the work involved in helping them feel able to try again.
That is the reason behind so much of what I do.
Since 2004, I have worked with nervous, anxious, shy and scared children. Many have arrived after negative experiences in previous swimming lessons. Some of the distress I have encountered has affected me profoundly. I made a promise to myself that I would do my utmost to find ways to help these children develop a different relationship with water.
I wanted them to have the chance to love it.
That commitment has shaped years of researching, trying, observing, questioning and adapting my teaching. It is the foundation of Mini Water Adventurers, the resources I create, the support I offer teachers and my work with the Orca Swim Trainer.
The method matters because the child has to live through it.
When we watch a swimming lesson, it is easy to focus on the outcome. A child floats. They put their face in. They reach the side.
I want us to look closely at how they got there, too.
What happened when they hesitated?
How did the adult respond when they became upset?
Did they understand what was about to happen?
Was there an opportunity to pause, participate differently or build towards the challenge?
A completed task gives us only part of the picture. I also want to know whether that child is willing to return, explore and try again.
I cannot know a child’s whole experience from a short video. But when a child shows distress, I believe that deserves our attention and a thoughtful response. We should be willing to examine what the adult does next, even when the method is familiar or the eventual outcome looks impressive.
My philosophy begins with taking the child’s experience seriously.
Nervousness, shyness, anxiety and the effects of a frightening experience are not interchangeable. Two children who both refuse to enter the water may need very different support.
That is why I place so much importance on observing the swimmer in front of me. A lesson plan can give me direction, but I need to be prepared to change the invitation, the support or the pace.
If a child is struggling to participate, I ask myself: What can I change to make this learning experience more accessible to them?
Sometimes that means making the next step smaller. Sometimes it means making what will happen more predictable. It may mean staying with something familiar, offering a different position or giving the swimmer time to watch before joining in.
I still have a purpose. I still want movement, learning and progress. My responsibility is to find a way towards those goals that respects the child.
This is why purposeful play has such an important place in my work.
When I design a story, choose a character or introduce a material, I think carefully about what it invites the swimmer to do.
Imagine an activity involving floating autumn leaves. One swimmer might reach for a leaf while remaining close to their supporting adult. Another might turn to collect one beside them. Another might travel towards a leaf further away. Another may want to dive down and collect the leaves fallen to the bottom of the pool.
There is a shared experience, with different ways to participate. The teacher can observe each swimmer and offer a meaningful next step without requiring everyone to do the same thing at the same moment.
This is the thinking behind my lesson architecture: purposeful experiences with enough flexibility for the children taking part.
The story gives the activity meaning. The materials invite movement. Swimmer choice helps shape what happens next. The teacher holds the learning purpose and responds.
The Orca belongs within that wider philosophy.
My drive to develop and promote the Orca Swim Trainer comes from wanting to help children access experiences in the water that might otherwise feel beyond them.
When I consider using it, I am thinking about the individual swimmer: what support they need, what movement we are exploring and how the equipment might help them participate.
It is one tool within my teaching approach. My purpose remains the same: to help the child build a more positive relationship with water and develop their abilities through respectful learning experiences.
To reach more children, I need to reach their teachers.
I cannot personally teach every child who is frightened of swimming lessons. Supporting teachers is how I can extend this work.
I know that teachers can care deeply and still feel unsure what to do when a swimmer is distressed, reluctant or unable to follow the planned activity. They need practical support, opportunities to reflect and permission to question approaches they may have been taught to accept.
Opening our minds means being willing to ask difficult questions about our own practice.
When a child pulls away, do we become more insistent, or more curious about what they need?
When the planned activity is not working, how many alternatives do we have?
What are we counting as progress, and what might we be overlooking?
Those questions apply to me, too. Years of experience give me a great deal to draw on, and a continuing responsibility to examine what I do.
I want teachers to have more possibilities available to them. I want children to experience lessons where their responses influence how they are taught.
My hope is that children who have known fear in the water can discover enjoyment. For some, the first step towards that will be very small. It still deserves to be recognised.
That is why I keep creating, experimenting and sharing what I learn.
Children deserve richer, respectful aquatic learning.
Teachers deserve the support to provide it.
And the method matters, every step of the way.
I cannot go back and change the experiences that brought those children to me. But I can use what they have taught me to help shape what happens for other children.
That is why I do this work, and why I ask teachers to keep questioning, learning and considering different ways forward.
The method matters. It becomes part of the child’s experience of water, of learning and of being listened to.
Before your next lesson, ask yourself: When a swimmer shows me they are frightened, what will I change about my teaching in response?
If you would like support exploring that question, join me at Mini Water Adventurers, where I share practical ways to create purposeful, responsive and respectful swimming lessons.
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