<p>Oh, the memory of humiliation.</p>
<p>My college had a swimming requirement to graduate. You had to pass the Red Cross advanced beginner test. Now, I have some physical issues which make me a klutz, but as therapy for them, I had to take swimming lessons during my childhood. So, I can swim. I cannot DIVE though. The test requires a dive. </p>
<p>So there I am, in the line with all the other freshman girls during orientation week, waiting to take the test. I am getting knots in my stomach waiting because I can see that you have to dive. My turn comes. I do everything else–not great, but I do it. Then I have to dive into the pool. (They leave that last, just in case you really can’t swim because you have to do it in deep water.) I do a belly flop. Again. Again. Well, for some reason, the PE teacher had a kind of mercy on me. I think she realized forcing someone who could swim to take a semester of swimming lessons because she couldn’t dive was sort of silly. Anyway, she had me try to dive between the tests for everyone. Of course, this meant that dozens of girls got to witness my belly flops. Finally, after–literally–about 30 attempts, I did one correctly. She yelled PASS and the girls cheered. My stomach was sore for about 3 days. I mean REALLY sore. </p>
<p>I got the little card saying I had passed. I was more careful about preserving that little card that almost anything else I owned. I NEVER wanted to have to take the test again.</p>