The first day of school

Not any first day of school. The first day you entered junior high, high school or college. Trepidation about the unknown.

The thought occurs to me because a friend told me she signed up for a course in whitewater kayaking. She’s my age and fairly new to the sport, so I give her a lot of credit.

She was excited when she told me about enrolling. Even though she’s game, I detected a note of apprehension and offered to take her out for a preview. She was relieved. It’s always better to know.

I took the same course about six years ago, so I could appreciate her position. Well, not quite. I had gone in with canoeing experience and had taught that with the organization that’s giving the courses. So, I had more prior knowledge of what would transpire than my classmates.

The course I took was held in the early spring to ensure adequate flow to apply the principles of whitewater paddling. It was a chilly and drizzly day, which doesn’t make people feel comfortable about wiping out. And, you will wipe out.

If you worry about that, you’ll tense up. And, if you tense up, you’re more likely to take a swim.

We arrived at the appointed place early in the cold, damp morning and did the land instruction. The class was an interesting mix of five cocky young guys, a couple middle aged women and a Japanese man who didn’t appear to have fully mastered English. The young guys seemed more intent upon teasing me and the women about our ages, in relation to this undertaking, than learning. I didn’t care. The river would do the answering for us. My experience in teaching was that young males would try to muscle through it when technique was almost everything.

I kept one eye on the river. I knew we wanted high water, but a few days of rain had raised the level to the point where the features of this training spot were all but washed out.

We concluded the land training and the instructors huddled. Apparently, they shared my concerns. So, we packed up the equipment and moved to a rocky creek. The water was roaring, captivating the attention of the student body and eliciting blank stares. The teasing was suddenly conspicuous by its absence.

I knew the drill. The layout was a sharply descending rapid. At its termination, there was an eddy (a relatively still pool) on either side. You were to run the rapid and veer into one of the eddys, which requires some of the skills taught in the course if you are to remain upright. Then, you would cross back and forth across the flow between the eddys (S-turns). Then, it was repeat, repeat, repeat.

Two of the young guys bailed out before the first run. Another watched the women get chewed up by the rapid and headed for his car. The other two bucks each took a brutal run and left. And then there were four.

The women learned quickly, as I expected. My teaching experience taught me that they are more likely to listen and learn the technique. And, they have lower centers of gravity, but only someone with a death wish would vocalize that.

The girls didn’t have much trouble with the rapid but got tripped up entering the eddy. They only needed to go to school on that two or three times before they relaxed and handled it well. The Japanese fellow didn’t fare as well.

I don’t think he ever made it down the rapid in his boat. Every time I looked, the boat was on edge and he was flailing wildly with his arms before taking a swim. He didn’t do much better with the eddys. Each time, an instructor would take him aside and explain what he was doing wrong. He’d nod rapidly and go back and do the same thing. I believe it was a language barrier.

But, he didn’t give up. Time after time, he emptied his boat out and went right back at it. I give him points for that.

Me? I did pretty well, leaving only a modicum of skin on the rocks. I went in knowing what to expect and was loose enough to apply the principles. It’s better to know.

There are exceptions to the rule, as always. Recently, I organized an advanced sea kayaking class for some of my friends and passed out the curriculum. They were energized and anxious for the first day of class. Then I told them that, to better prepare for an upcoming trip, we were adding a 12-mile open water crossing on Lake Erie and practice rescues in the rocky breakers. The mood took a turn.

At least there’s time for them to get used to the idea. Or, come up with a scheduling conflict. (Addendum: the instructor subsequently notified us he was changing the launch location for the open water crossing and it would be a six-mile round trip. It is better to know.)