Rethinking kickboards in swimming lessons (it is a metaphor)!

Are swimming lessons truly moving with the times, or are we stuck in a rut of old habits? Are we recycling outdated practices simply because “that’s the way it’s always been done”? In swimming, the kickboard remains a staple. Children line up, grip their float, and kick endlessly up and down the lane. For decades, this has been the accepted image of “learning to swim.” But here’s the question: is this really progress, or is it simply monotony dressed as tradition?

Meanwhile, the wider world of physical education has transformed. Other sports adapt equipment, scale rules, and embrace research about how children actually learn. Tennis courts shrink, footballs get lighter, gymnastics bars lower—all to match the child, not the other way around. Swimming, however, clings to its foam plank. But maybe the real problem isn’t just the kickboard; it’s how far we’ve drifted from connecting lessons to the real child of today.

Beyond kickboards: The comfort of old toys

It isn’t just kickboards. Walk into almost any learn-to-swim programme, and you’ll see the same predictable collection of equipment lined up at the poolside: balls, watering cans, bath squirties, flip toys, dive sticks, small hoops, big hoops, pull buoys, arm discs, armbands, and animal floats.

These items aren’t “bad,” but they are unimaginative. They are the default, the easy purchases, the unquestioned staples that fill storerooms worldwide. For decades, they’ve been recycled in the same way: tossed in for a game at the end or used mechanically in drills. But do they really move the dial? Do they stretch children’s creativity, problem-solving, or adaptability in water? Or are we simply pacifying them with bright plastic while repeating the same prescriptive lesson structures?

Other sports don’t stand still. Their equipment evolves to serve the child of today. Yet in swimming, we’ve accepted a static toy box as if no other possibilities exist.

Children in the AI world

We’re raising children in the midst of a digital revolution. Screens saturate their lives. Their nervous systems are wired for instant feedback, dopamine hits, and constant stimulation (Twenge et al., 2018). Attention spans are shrinking, and children’s bodies are moving less than ever outside structured sport (WHO, 2020).

More and more swimmers arrive neurodiverse, with sensory sensitivities and regulation needs that cannot be met by one-size-fits-all drills. Research shows neurodiverse children benefit most from exploratory, sensory-rich, movement-based learning rather than rigid prescription (Baranek, 2002). Yet what do we hand them? A kickboard. A toy watering can. A dive stick. Static. Prescriptive. Familiar.

We talk about “child development,” but often in broad strokes. Real child development in a digital age means acknowledging that today’s children need novelty, adaptability, and embodied play to stay engaged. Neuroscience is clear: the brain wires best through varied experiences, not repetition of isolated parts (Chow et al., 2016; Rudd et al., 2021). If the world outside the pool is ever-changing and multi-sensory, shouldn’t lessons reflect that?

The wisdom of primal communities

Now shift the lens. Think of children growing up in ancestral communities—in the Amazon rainforest, Pacific islands, or coastal fishing villages. Swimming there isn’t a “lesson” with props. It’s lived.

Anthropological studies (Lancy, 2015) show that in small-scale societies, children learn physical skills through observation, imitation, and play within the natural environment. They don’t separate “fun” from “learning.” They are immersed in full-body, whole-context practice—balancing in currents, diving with siblings, playing water games that double as survival training.

Neuroscience today confirms what these communities have always known:

• Play is “training for the unexpected” (Bekoff & Byers, 1998).

• Motor skills develop most robustly through exploration and variability, not prescriptive isolation (Newell, 1986).

• Story, rhythm, and embodied practice improve retention and transfer of skills (Adolph & Hoch, 2019).

  
  

Primal methods may look unstructured, but they are in fact perfectly attuned to how children’s brains and bodies learn best.

Two worlds, one question

So here we stand, between two worlds. On one side, children of the AI generation—wired differently, overstimulated, and often neurodiverse—who need adaptive, playful, and human-centred teaching more than ever. On the other, the wisdom of primal communities, who raised children through embodied learning, rhythm, story, and natural consequence.

And in the middle? Kickboards. Dive sticks. Bath squirties. Animal floats. A relic toy box of mid-20th century teaching that satisfies neither the digital child nor the ancestral instinct.

What if we stopped?

Perhaps the real question isn’t “Why do we still use kickboards?” but “What would happen if we stopped using them the same way?” Would children learn to move their whole bodies in rhythm, rather than separating legs from arms? Would lessons become sensory-rich, adaptable, and alive with play? Would we rediscover that swimming, at its heart, is not about foam floats and prescriptive drills—but about adapting the human body to water, just as our ancestors always did?

And here’s the twist: maybe it’s not about throwing all the toys out, but about using them differently. A kickboard doesn’t have to mean “kick up and down the pool.” What if children pushed it under the water to create waves, strengthening their core? What if they stood on it to balance, or sat on it to explore buoyancy? What if it became a rescue raft, a surfboard, or a platform for games of imagination?

The same goes for dive sticks, watering cans, or hoops. Their value doesn’t lie in what they were sold as, but in how we use them to spark discovery. The challenge isn’t the equipment; it’s the thinking. When we use tools only one way, we lock ourselves (and our swimmers) into narrow patterns. When we repurpose them, play with them, and stretch their potential, we transform monotony into exploration.

The digital age child and the primal community child both remind us of this truth: children don’t thrive on monotony. They thrive on movement that is meaningful, playful, and deeply human. Maybe it’s time swimming lessons caught up.

Finding the bridge: A modern tool for ancient wisdom

Of course, we can’t drop our learners into rivers or oceans every week. We teach in pools—sterile, rectangular, and often stripped of the very unpredictability that once taught children resilience and adaptability. So how do we replicate the richness of natural water experiences inside four tiled walls?

This is where tools matter—not as crutches, but as connectors. The Orca Swim Trainer, for example, offers children buoyancy that adapts to their growth and confidence. With nine removable float pads, it allows freedom of movement while still offering safety, and it can be stripped back gradually as skills grow.

Unlike the kickboard or other flotation devices, which lock children into an artificial, fragmented motion, the Orca invites discovery. It enables children to float, balance, twist, and explore—just as they might in open water. It supports neurodiverse learners who need security without confinement, and it provides anxious swimmers with courage while still allowing independence.

In many ways, it is the missing link. A way to combine the instinctive exploration of ancestral communities with the awareness of children’s needs in our digital, neurodiverse age.

The challenge for us as swimming teachers is not to cling to props of the past, but to choose tools that set children free. To recreate, as best we can, the conditions of nature inside the pool—while honouring the very different child who stands before us today.

Maybe the real revolution isn’t just about asking why we still use kickboards. It’s about asking: what could we use instead to bring the best of both worlds together?

Research References

• Twenge, J. M., et al. (2018). The smartphone generation and mental health. Journal of Abnormal Psychology.

• World Health Organization (2020). Guidelines on physical activity and sedentary behaviour.

• Baranek, G. T. (2002). Efficacy of sensory and motor interventions for children with autism. Journal of Autism and Developmental Disorders.

• Chow, J. Y., Rudd, J. R., & Buszard, T. (2016). Nonlinear pedagogy in skill acquisition. Routledge.

• Rudd, J. R., et al. (2021). Learning design for movement: variability and adaptability in motor learning. Frontiers in Psychology.

• Lancy, D. (2015). The Anthropology of Childhood: Cherubs, Chattel, Changelings. Cambridge University Press.

• Bekoff, M., & Byers, J. A. (1998). Animal Play: Evolutionary, Comparative, and Ecological Perspectives. Cambridge University Press.

• Newell, K. M. (1986). Constraints on the development of coordination. Motor Development in Children: Aspects of Coordination and Control.

• Adolph, K. E., & Hoch, J. E. (2019). Motor development: Embodied, embedded, enculturated, and enabling. Annual Review of Psychology.

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