Japanese swimming lessons prioritized form over time.

I took swimming lessons from around age five until my second year of junior high school. When you think of swimming, freestyle, breaststroke, and backstroke come to mind—and this is the same no matter which country you go to in the world. But actually, how swimming is taught and the goals set differ by country. I was made keenly aware of this on the very day I started attending a Japanese swimming school in fourth grade.

When I started swimming lessons at age five, pools in the Soviet Union weren't commonplace like in Japan, attached to most elementary schools. They were rare, with only a few scattered around town. The pool I attended had dark-colored tiles on the bottom. At a child's height, my feet couldn't touch the bottom, so I swam without truly understanding the depth.One day, the instructor announced, "Actually, there are sharks swimming at the bottom of this pool. Slow swimmers will get caught and eaten by the sharks. Don't slow down." Though we couldn't believe it, we kids were pretty freaked out. Terrified, everyone swam at full speed. Every session left us utterly exhausted, but our swimming speed improved remarkably fast.

Years later, on my first day at a Japanese swimming school to resume lessons for my beloved swimming, I requested a class starting with butterfly stroke, having already mastered crawl, breaststroke, and backstroke. The instructor said, "Got it, show me what you can do!" So I swam 25 meters. Feeling quite proud of my smooth stroke, I looked toward the instructor only to be met with a shout.

Apparently, my form was all wrong. I was shocked. My speed should have been pretty fast. So why was he dissatisfied? The instructor continued, "You're starting over from the kickboard." Shaking with shock and anger, I made a proposal to him. If I could swim faster than the fastest freestyle swimmer present today, he should just leave my technique alone.

The instructor hesitated for a moment, but the challenge was set. And I won. Great, I thought, now I'm sure I can learn butterfly. But it wasn't that easy. The instructor explained that in Japan, form is extremely important, with specific rules for when to breathe and which direction to face when lifting your head. He wouldn't budge. Consequently, I was forced back to paddle practice. My common sense, which assumed that just swimming fast was enough, was completely overturned. Here, form was more important than speed.

A year after the kickboard, I started attending an American swimming school. I had speed, and I'd built a solid foundation with the kickboard, so this time I was sure I'd finally learn butterfly. But first, the instructor told me to dive into the deep end of the pool. Then, she told me to just float there for ten minutes. Huh? I'm not supposed to swim? I couldn't hide my surprise, but I tried it anyway. After a while, it started to feel pretty tough.I managed to get through it, but the instructor said, "If you keep this up, you won't last 30 minutes if you get swept out to sea!"

Here, I learned it's not about speed or form; what matters first is being able to float continuously, dive, and swim long distances. Form and breathing timing are flexible. Why? Because you're building survival skills that could save you if you're swept out to sea or start drowning. You won't panic even in deep water.

This is something you can't learn in Japan's shallow pools. Swim long distances, even if it's slow. You also learn less tiring strokes like the "side stroke." The decision was that you couldn't learn butterfly until you mastered this. It was a bit frustrating, but now that I'd come this far, it somehow seemed interesting. I focused solely on mastering floating in the 3-meter deep end and the "side stroke."

Having mastered all this, I figured I had no complaints. A year later, I returned to a Japanese swimming school. Finally, I would learn the long-awaited butterfly stroke. It surprised me that even after becoming a strong swimmer, Japanese training still included paddle board drills. It must be to solidify the "fundamentals." While it might not make much sense for just enjoying a vacation swim, it's an excellent method if you truly aim to be a competitive swimmer.

Participating in a competitive training program in Canada made me realize something: the leg strength was completely different. My Canadian teammates often relied heavily on arm power. Back in Japan, I had diligently trained my legs with the kickboard, and it turned out my leg strength – crucial for butterfly – made me faster than the kids I learned with in Canada.

Speed, form, endurance. All are important, certainly. But where should the emphasis lie, and why? What do we want children to learn through swimming? Why are we teaching it in the first place? Why do they want to learn it? Once you start thinking about these things, the best approach for you might naturally become clear. It's quite fascinating to think this might apply universally to all sports and studies.