Keeping your head above water as the swim coach

My sister was a molecular biology major. So are my roommate and everyone else I know. As I write this, the words "protinate," "negative charge" and "I'm going to be a rich doctor" float through the air. My parents call these people "pre-meds."

My major is one of those where you read a lot of fiction and talk about it with people who wear trendy thick-rimmed glasses. My parents call this "pre-failure."

So instead of spending the summer in a lab — or better yet, in a New York investment banking office — I decided to seriously prepare for my future and work at the pool. I have spent every summer since I was seven years old with the Mount Vernon Park "Gators" swim team. After 12 years of mediocre swimming, I became the head coach.

All the kids ask me why I don't have any swimming records. Since they are all better than I was, I have to say something like, "Oh, well, haha," or, "They didn't have records when I was swimming," or, "What? You want to swim a 500 butterfly? OK. Ready, go!"

The season went really well except for a few incidents. Parents who volunteer run all the administration. So when one of the parents doesn't do his or her part, all the other parents start talking. During a Monday night meet, our team representative asked one of these mothers to be a timer for a few hours. In an unexpected turn of events, the woman began screaming at our team representative, yelling that she is a busy working woman. She then proceeded to curse wildly in Italian. Ah, summer at the pool: The sun in your face, the smell of sun tan lotion, the cursing Italians . . .

For punishment, the park banned her from coming to any more meets. When they told her this a few days later, she cursed some more in Italian so the park removed her kids from the team.

The only other incident occurred after the annual awards ceremony where we give out trophies for achievement and also superlatives like "Cutest Couple," "Best Dive" and "Most Likely to Drown." It was dark, around 8:15 p.m., when a few of the older boys jumped into the unguarded 50-meter pool. Only the 25-meter pool was open, and since they broke a rule, the lifeguards made them sit on the pool deck for 30 minutes because of their mischief.

When I saw them sitting and looking depressed, I asked what had happened and they told me the story. Angry at this abuse of power right after a fun awards ceremony, I said to the boys that the punishment was too harsh and that the lifeguard who dealt it out was a "retard."

Bad move.

A few days later, I received a copy of a letter from the park manager to the board of directors explaining the incident. It was a page-and-a-half argument against my character and respect for authority. I'm fairly sure the assistant manager who was on duty overheard my remark, then told his dad (the manager) who decided to write the board of directors. The letter made me out to be violently disrespectful toward authority. It also pointed out that my use of the word "retard" should have been enough to kick me out of the park that instant and also force a suspension of my park privileges.

I could explain what happened next, but it's not very funny. In fact, it's bloody. No. In the end we all made up and apologized for what we did wrong.

The lesson I learned is that I shouldn't have used the word "retard." It's actually a fairly offensive term, I have learned, though the whole "PC" thing is kind of done with, not to mention retarded. Our lives here at Princeton are characterized by too much meanness. I shouldn't have resorted to using the word.

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The moral is that a little human kindness can go a long way. How many times have you walked into a tap room filled with people you have never seen and someone approaches you and says, "Oh, hello! Welcome to our club. Are you a sophomore? Oh, you're a freshman, even better! Do you want me to get you something to drink?"

Will this ever happen? I doubt it. Come to think of it, it's fun to sit and scowl at people and make them feel unimportant. So forget what I just said. Go on being mean. Just remember that you're a big retard.