Yesterday Mamta swam for ten minutes with her clothes on.  Her pajamas, actually.  No, she hadn’t sleep-walked to the Grunewald See.  She was at her weekly swimming lesson with Jürgen, swimming coach to the stars.

We found Jürgen’s swim class through Annette’s sister Doreen.  Two of Doreen’s children were already progressing under his tutelage.  Annette took Mamta to her first class about six weeks ago.

“Ja,” said Jürgen with unvarnished disdain after first watching Mamta swim, “she clearly hasn’t been taking lessons with Jürgen!”

Doreen had warned us that Jürgen’s standards were high and his methods were strict. Word was that Jürgen had been a member of an elite German special forces team — perhaps something like the US Navy Seals.  The East German Navy Seals.  Doreen’s description of him included the words “Nazi” and “narcissist.”  During her daughter Elena’s first lesson with Jürgen, Elena looked to her mother for approval after completing numerous laps around the pool.  Doreen gave Elena the thumbs up.  Jürgen saw this, and reprimanded Doreen:

“We only do that when a child has really accomplished something!”

Doreen told us that it’s not unusual to see kids crying in the pool.  “Sometimes he makes even the parents cry.”

Apparently the ranks of his students continue to grow because his methods are effective. Jürgen has the reputation for succeeding with children whom other swimming teachers have failed.  Doreen told us that a number of celebrities — movie stars, television personalities, politicians — bring their children to him for lessons.

It was with a mix of curiosity and trepidation that I began accompanying Mamta to her swimming lessons.

Adjustable-depth pool

What I first noticed was not Jürgen himself, but rather the pool — or more precisely, the “depthometer” that was mounted above one end of the pool.  It was set at 1.70 meters. What’s this?  A pool in which the water depth can be varied?!  I had never heard of such a thing.  Chalk one up for German engineering.

Let the circus begin

At the start of the lesson, all the kids seat themselves in a row at one end of the pool.  Many of them are wearing flotation belts.  They all have kickboards. Jürgen begins with one of his many rituals.  He asks whether everyone has brought their best behavior to the lesson.  “Ja,” they answer in unison.  He reviews the basic breast-stroke that is taught in the class, and the children dutifully copy his motions.  Then one-by-one they peel off into the water, and the circus begins.

For the next forty-five minutes, Jürgen and his three lovely assistants direct twenty-odd children with varying degrees of ability in a tightly-choreographed series of maneuvers.  As the children swim laps around the pool, Jürgen the swimmer-whisperer watches them intently, gently pulling one or the other to him to provide instruction, and to disengage them from their kick-boards.

Following this warm-up, the swimmers are divided into groups. Some continue to swim laps, others dive for rings, a third group practices swimming under water.  The parents are all seated on a bench alongside the pool, their eyes fixed on their own children and on Jürgen.  Some parents discretely offer guidance to their children when they think Jürgen is not looking, miming the outstretched arms of a full breast-stroke, or doing a “zip your lip” motion if their child is daring to speak to another swimmer.

Jürgen providing instruction

Diving from floating mat

The swimmers reassemble for diving practice off a small platform at one end of the pool. The least-experienced go first, gamely putting their hands together in prayer, raising their arms above their head, pointing their head down, bending forward and then — jumping, feet first, into the pool.  These swimmers head for the ladder at the side of the pool.  The better swimmers stay under water after diving in, aiming for a hoop that Jürgen holds for them to swim through.  As they approach, he moves the hoop farther and farther away, knowing instinctively the limit for each particular child.

The group moves on to other activities: racing the length of the pool, walking on floating foam mats and then diving in, swimming on their backs the width of the pool. Judging by her smile, Mamta’s favorite activity is the one that ends the class: the children seated on the far edge of the pool, holding hands, kicking the water with all their might. They then line up to be presented with gummi bears for their efforts.

The swim lesson may be over for the children, but not for the parents.  Jürgen hauls himself out of the pool and pads to the end of the row of seated parents.  His debriefings are short and to the point.  He knows every child by name, and is keenly aware of their strengths and weaknesses.  My heart beat faster as he approached for my first review.

“She makes very good progress this week,” he tells me.  “Like night and day, yes and no, from last time.  Today, the sun is shining.”  He pauses, and then says “She is strong in the mind” he taps his forehead “and strong in the body.  I think her progress will be like so” and he raises his arm out at an upward angle.

My heartbeat slows, and I am flushed with pride.  I have made it through my first lesson with Jürgen!

As he predicted, Mamta flourishes under Jürgen’s guidance.  Within a few weeks, she has earned her “bronze medal,” a patch that  Annette sews onto Mamta’s bathing suit.  Annette worries that Jürgen will be critical of her sewing efforts, because the patch is slightly crooked.  But he is not, and he continues to encourage Mamta.

I was concerned about Mamta’s swimming for ten minutes in her pajamas.  I am not sure I could do that. But we had remembered to bring our secret weapon: the chartreuse energy beans that Annette carries along on mountain bike rides.  Mamta downed a handful before the lesson.

Getting Mamta’s pajamas on was not easy, but eventually we prevailed.

“I like that Schlafanzug” Jürgen said with a smile.  Apparently he is a fan of Disney princesses.

He started her off with three half-laps, after each of which she got out of the pool and walked around back to her starting point.  His methods are specific, and effective.  He checked in with Mamta: Is this too heavy for you?  It’s okay?  She nodded.  He then pointed to the large clock at the end of the pool, and indicated for how long she would be swimming.  Off she went.

I later asked Mamta what was the hardest part of swimming in her pajamas, and she answered “Breathing!”

During the debriefing following yesterday’s lesson, Jürgen explained that Mamta had done well, but that he always has the children do the pajama swim twice, and we should bring her pajamas again next week.  “The first time, maybe they are a little scared, maybe they panic.  But if they ever fall into water with clothes on, or get pushed, if they practice this twice then it’s better.  Please bring the Schlafanzug next week, and remember me.”  I nodded earnestly, and assured him that we would.