Reading Practice for "Learning to Swim"

"Learning to Swim"
by Kyoko Mori
Student Edition
Unit 3, pp. 326–339

An autobiography is a story about a person's life told by that person. As you read, think about the clues that identify this as a true story that the author has written about herself.

My goal one summer was to learn to swim the front crawl. At school I hadn't been able to make it the length of the pool. My mother had taught me how to dog-paddle when I was six. The front crawl, however, had a lot more steps to remember. We were staying at my grandparents' house, which was near a river. On July 7, my family and I celebrated the festival of the stars. On that day, it is customary to make three wishes. One of my wishes was to swim the front crawl the length of the pool in September.
Every afternoon, my mother took me down to the river to swim. She was a patient teacher. She taught me the strokes on the sandy riverbank. Then she swam beside me while I practiced them in the water. By mid-August, I could swim twenty-five meters downstream and then back again.
The next week our whole family went on a trip to the Sea of Japan. I had never swum in the sea before, but I knew that the salt made it easier to float. Our first morning there my mother and I walked in. A big wave crashed on my head and knocked me down. The cold seawater stung my nose and throat. "Float on your back," my mother said. She showed me how easy it was. We floated, and then we jumped the waves. After riding the crashing waves for a while, I suddenly noticed that my feet could no longer touch the bottom. When I looked at the beach, the people looked tiny. I could not see my family.
"Mom, I'm getting tired," I gasped.
"Swim toward the shore," she said. She was working hard to tread water beside me. The waves kept coming, and I could feel the water pulling us sideways. I saw her hold one hand above the water and try to wave it from side to side. She was signaling for help! That's when I saw the look of fear in her eyes. I put my arms around her neck and held on. "Let go," she said calmly, "or we'll both drown."
Between waves, we treaded water and caught our breath. No matter how hard we tried, we couldn't make it back to shore. My mom could, but because I wasn't a strong swimmer neither of us would. I started kicking my legs and tried to make big strides with my arms, not frantic little circles. That's what she had taught me in the river. Mother said we could make it to some rocks on a bit of land that jutted into the sea. Going that direction, we could swim slowly. The waves were suddenly helping us. Soon we were climbing up on the rocky ground. We stood in silence for a while, too stunned to speak. Then we started walking back to the beach, being careful not to cut our feet or fall back into the sea.
On the beach, I noticed an ice cream stand. I asked mom if I could have some. After that day, whenever she told people the story of how we nearly drowned, she always emphasized how calmly I asked for ice cream afterwards. She said that I had been a brave girl. She had me go back to swim that same afternoon, and we returned to my swimming lessons when we got back to my grandparents' house. I know now that was her way of keeping me from being afraid of the water.
When I got back to school in September, I could swim the length of the pool without stopping. At the other end of the pool, I turned back to look, and the distance was much shorter than the shore had been from us that day at sea.