Swimming Is a Life-Saving Skill. Why Is It so Hard to Find Lessons?

Ten minutes to the hour, I take my seat at the dining room table. I ignore a flood of emails and make sure my credit card info is close at hand. At 9:57 a.m., the baby starts to cry. I hand her a dehydrated peace offering and jump back over the baby gate.

I need to focus. Her life could very well depend on it.

10 a.m.: It’s go time. I refresh the swim class registration page on two devices until options appear, but my first attempt fails. With every ticking second, I breathe heavier. The baby is screaming, and I’m panicking.

As I scramble to find swim classes for my two daughters, I feel the water reaching my chin. I have been here before.

In sixth grade, I nearly died. At a Holiday Inn pool party, only a few of us could swim — and I was not one of them. A panicked classmate dragged me under when she struggled to stay afloat. She was pulled to safety, but no one noticed me in the chaos. I gulped for air, sinking into the pool’s neon blue glow. Everything went black.

Today, as summer approaches, hidden Vermont swimming holes, brisk Maine docks, and city beach days beckon. I am one of many parents who want their children to experience these things safely — but find it increasingly difficult to book swim lessons. Registering for them has become a scramble for a lifeboat seat on a ship where families with only the quickest fingers or most privileges survive.

When it comes to swim lessons in this area, demand always seems to exceed availability — and the consequences of missing out could not be more clear.

Drowning is the leading cause of death among 1- to 4-year-olds in the United States. In the public schools that offer mandatory swim courses, many don’t begin until middle school — long after this window has closed. Drowning is also the second-leading cause of accidental deaths by injury among children 5 to 14.

In 2021 in Massachusetts, the last year of published data, there were 58 unintentional drowning deaths (11 of them children) and 113 nonfatal drowning cases reported.

In 1996, I would have been included in that second statistic. I never learned to swim. Growing up in Somerville, the youngest of five in a busy, single-parent household, my swim education fell through the cracks.

At that pool party, a lifeguard eventually pulled me out, but I often experience panic attacks to this day when water passes my chest. And I relive that day at the pool whenever I am

sidelined at the beach or feel guilt over striking out on swim classes for my kids, seconds too slow.

Shawn DeRosa, director of pool and waterfront safety for the state’s Department of Conservation and Recreation, reaffirms the importance of formal lessons with a certified instructor. “If your child is [only] doing a doggy paddle, they’re one step away from drowning,” DeRosa says, adding that many have relaxed their definition of what it means to be able to swim — it’s not simply keeping your head above water.

So why have lessons become a privilege rather than a given? Pools are costly to operate. And between recreational swim, school teams, and classes, many are chronically overscheduled. There’s also been a national shortage of lifeguards the last few years. Roughly a third of the country’s 309,000 public swimming pools recently faced closures from staffing shortages.

The pandemic didn’t help. Lifeguard certifications lapsed when pools sat empty and visas for seasonal student workers were paused, creating a backlog of kids with canceled lessons.

Socioeconomic and racial inequity in pool and lesson access persists. Black people are 1.5 times more likely to drown than their white counterparts, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. Black and Latino youth are less likely to have had swim classes. Where pools have been located — and who has had access to them — has played a critical role in these discrepancies. After increased integration in the 1960s and the migration of many white families to the suburbs, urban communities initiated budget cuts to municipal pools in areas with large Black and immigrant populations.

The sign-up process for swim lessons can exacerbate these inequities. Registration dates can be difficult to find, and signup windows seem to always fall during work hours and be online only, providing an advantage to parents with flexible jobs. Summer camps with swim training are another option, but can be their own competitive rat race for spots. There are other, less obvious options, such as private swim schools and university pools — but they require research and reliable transportation, and can be costly.

There is some progress. In 2023, Governor Maura Healey signed off on $372,000 in funding for 14 organizations throughout the state to offer free swim lessons to all ages. DCR has renewed its efforts to recruit lifeguards, and plans on offering swim classes at up to 20 pools this summer. The YMCA of Greater Boston has offered free lessons to children. This year, Boston Mayor Michelle Wu has expanded the city’s Swim Safe Program, which provides free swimming lessons, life jackets, and lifeguard training in historically underserved communities.

But it’s not enough. And in an increasingly virtual world, there is no replacement for real life experience.

We need greater collaboration and a centralized, searchable database for all licensed swim instruction, whether private or public, by state. We should continue to expand funding for water safety, staffing, and pools — many need critical updates to open — to allow for longer hours that relieve chronic overscheduling.

Given the benefits of early water exposure, localities should begin swim classes earlier and ensure access to adaptive swim classes tailored to the needs of individuals with disabilities or developmental challenges.

In the meantime, we must do what it takes to get our children taught well.

DeRosa urges parents to stay within arm’s reach of untrained or weak swimmers instead of watching from the sidelines, and to ensure that lifeguards are always present. Life jackets should be used near open water.

For my part, I’m finally tackling my own swim education, so I can become an asset rather than a liability. I will also not let my city kids slide by without learning to swim. I don’t want their budding love of coastal New England to be bittersweet, like my own. What’s the point of living near a beckoning sea if you can never answer its call?

Gabriella Gage is a writer from Somerville. Send comments to magazine@globe.com.

“If your child is [only] doing a doggy paddle, they’re one step away from drowning,” DeRosa says.