Notre Dame Magazine invites personal essays of no more than 250 words on subjects of nostalgic interest to alumni of all ages. Selected submissions will be published in a future print edition or online at magazine.nd.edu. Please send fun, meaningful or evocative stories from your student days on the topics listed below to editor Jason Kelly ’95 at jkelly30@nd.edu. New topics to come each issue.
DORM MASSES: Deadline August 4, 2024
INTERHALL SPORTS: Deadline November 3, 2024
I’ll take my ‘F’ up front
Freshman year and I still don’t know all the campus buildings, but I do know the Rock. I head there for phys ed, where I will either get pulled from the pool coughing and choking or drown as part of the required swim test.
I obtain my Rock-issued swimsuit and join other freshmen in a line that stretches around the pool. Our ability to swim several strokes will be evaluated. The type of stroke is not an issue. My inability to swim is. I stop a pool patrolman and ask what happens if I fail the test.
“You’ll take swimming the first semester.”
I tell him I don’t know how to swim.
“Don’t worry, you’ll get by.”
I ask how I can sign up for swimming and receive a look that says, “Who is this crazy freshman? Nobody signs up for swim class!”
I repeat, slowly and clearly, that I don’t know how to swim. With a sidelong glance he points to a desk across the pool.
I walk around everyone in line, and at the desk I ask how I can sign up for swim class. I get the same look. With as much patience as I can muster, I explain that I don’t know how to swim.
I walk out of the Rock having never gotten into the pool. I did not drown. As far as I was concerned, I passed the test.
— Stan Bernat ’79
Those who can’t race, teach
At the Rock, swimsuits were issued by Big Eddie, aka Fat Eddie, who tossed them from a cage after you’d showered. Blue suits were for 32-inch waists, while green ones were a size bigger. Using your own suit was not an option.
The priest or brother who monitored testing in August 1979 wore a red, Speedo-type suit, which apparently indicated his larger waist and his responsibility for safety. He was no lifeguard, but I was, having been Red Cross certified and having worked that summer at an outdoor pool.
Back home I never joined the swim team because the prospect of early morning practices was repulsive, and because I wasn’t built like a pterodactyl for racing speed. However, I enjoyed teaching swim lessons. My strokes were sufficient for the purposes of demonstration and instruction.
The freshman swim test differed from the controlled environment I was accustomed to. Probably for safety reasons, it was conducted in the shallow therapy pool, running merely the width of the lap pool and lacking both floating lane lines to calm surface waves and painted floor stripes for visual guidance.
When I entered for my test, the waters were choppy from other active bodies in the pool. After pushing off the starting wall, I completed only three full freestyle strokes before the test ended.
Red Speedo was unimpressed. I passed the ND swim test, but not with flying colors.
— John Hennessy ’83
Underdressed for the test
It’s hard to think of an event that would make one feel more self-conscious than showing up to the cattle call that was the Notre Dame freshman swim test. We were brand new to school, and practically on day one, we were asked to show off our swim skills in front of hundreds of people so we didn’t have to take swim lessons in freshmen PE.
Add the fact that I showed up in a hot-pink and blue bikini, while literally 499 other girls were in navy or black one-piece swimsuits, and I think I earned every ounce of embarrassment I felt. While I had read in my freshmen welcome packet that a swim test would be administered, I never thought that girls wouldn’t bring the fresh-from-summer bikinis that we had been wearing weeks before. Somehow, and I mean literally, every single girl had on a dark, conservative, ready-to-race suit.
I was a neon beacon in a sea of black and dark blue. The result? I couldn’t help but burst into laughter, as well as did the swim-test guinea pigs around me. The tension was broken and we all enjoyed the icebreaker that allowed us to introduce ourselves and chat.
Many of those same girls and guys are my friends to this day. Thank you to all those people, and I’m thrilled I was able to give you a good laugh.
— Kimberly McKay Smith ’97
Lapped out
My freshman-year swim test fell on my 18th birthday. It’s a weird thing to have a birthday the first week of college. I had already met dozens of new acquaintances but wasn’t yet sure which ones would become true friends. To get any birthday wishes, I had to make others aware of it or rely on those I had told to bring it up.
The swim test wasn’t a big concern. I grew up on the Jersey Shore, bodysurfing the waves in Long Branch. At one lake I went to, the lifeguards required a demonstration of your swimming ability as a prerequisite to your using the high dive, and I’d always passed.
When my name was called, I took off in a freestyle sprint to the other side of the Rolfs pool — and soon realized my mistake: I had no idea how to pace myself for two full laps in a pool that big. On the backstroke, I lost my sense of direction and veered into the lane dividers more than once.
Upon completing the test, I tried to lift myself onto the pool deck, but my overworked arms couldn’t raise my body and my legs provided no thrust. I finally managed to flop onto the cold tile and walk to the locker room on jelly legs.
I sat on a bench for a good 10 minutes, nauseated and hoping I wouldn’t start my birthday by throwing up because of a swim test.
— Dan Cichalski ’98
A way to stay afloat
My swim test in the fall of 1966 was, by a galactic margin, the easiest part of my time at Notre Dame. The test introduced me to the mental break of doing laps in the Rockne pool, an activity that would hold me together for the next four years.
I was learning the virtues of a balanced life but would not appreciate that until much later. Now, as I approach the end of a fulfilling engineering career, it is a wonderful irony that I find myself race director of a challenging 9-kilometer, open-water swim competition in Great South Bay, New York. The event started almost 100 years ago to honor the first woman to swim the English Channel, and it is now named in honor of my daughter, Maggie.
She was a great athlete and scholar, ready to be the first woman in my family to attend Notre Dame. An accident ended that story in tragedy a couple of days before she was to swim the competition in 1999. Now my family and I and a dedicated committee run it in her name.
More than a sporting event, the competition is a hallmark of the community and an emotional bond among the several thousand swimmers who have participated. Beyond athletics, we hear inspiring stories from many people who find strength and solace in the solitude of swimming.
I now know that the bittersweetness of life starts early and provides great rewards, most of which are unexpected. I will always thank the Rock and Our Lady for that.
— Bob Fischer ’70
Took you long enough
I learned how to swim at Notre Dame as an 18-year-old from Florida. Implausible, you say? Well, in Florida, pools are for lounging or racing your cousins. The ocean is for dipping your toes, because it’s unbearably hot outside.
Although I know people from my high school who are highly decorated competitive swimmers — one is my sister-in-law — I had zero confidence that I would pass the swim test. As a result of failing, I got to take a swimming course at Notre Dame. The pool was incredible, and I gained the lifelong gift of knowing how to swim. (I also learned cross-country skiing, an unthinkable endeavor for someone who once had no concept of snow.)
My moment of truth in the pool came at the end of the course. We were required to dive from the high board. I was petrified. I asked to make my attempt in the first group since I knew I would psych myself out otherwise. I climbed the steps (so many steps), reached the top and took a deep breath. Then I jumped, and it felt like I plummeted for quite a long time.
I finally did it. In other words, I never really passed the swim test, but I got that swim credit.
— Mallory Adams ’07, ’08M.A.
Cramming for the test
I was convinced that failing the freshman swim test would ruin my life. Like a lot of girls, I had quit swim classes at the onset of my period, unable to figure out how to use a tampon and too embarrassed to ask. I hated putting my face in the water, and I didn’t even own a swimsuit. My prospects were bleak.
So I bought a suit and determinedly visited the pool five days a week in the months following high school graduation, attempting some remedial practice.
On my first day in the pool, I couldn’t complete a single length. I was uncoordinated, with no stamina. I panicked easily and was often the focus of the lifeguard’s wary attention. A few weeks in, I could swim full laps and kept going. I passed the swim test with no problem.
By then, I was hooked. As fall semester began, I pulled on my swimsuit and rushed to the Rock early every morning, just as it opened. I swam a quarter mile almost every weekday and a half-mile on Sundays. The pool became the place where I could sort out my thoughts, let go of my anxieties, pray or just breathe. It became a symbol of grace and my capacity to learn and grow.
I don’t swim as often now, but swimming remains a ritual that pulls me out of my head and puts me back in my body.
— Greer Hannan ’09, ’14MNA, ’15M.Div.
An embarrassment of britches
In 1975, students were graded on a scale of 1 to 5 across five strokes. Those scoring below a certain point threshold were required to take beginning swimming during the first semester.
We reported to the Rockne pool. Guys were issued swim trunks (not optional), while the women got to wear their own swimsuits. The Rockne-issued suits were thick, baggy, Speedo-style trunks which were color-coded by size and had a huge “R” silk-screened on the butt. I thought this was funny, as who would want to steal one of those awful suits — until I was on spring break a few years later and saw a fellow Domer wearing one on a Fort Lauderdale beach.
For the test, we were randomly paired with other students. You went through the testing stations while your partner carried the card to record the scores. Then you traded places.
Being a lifeguard and swim instructor, I did well. I felt sorry for my partner who got maybe four out of 25 possible points. To his credit, he never quit and completed the test.
A couple of guys in my dorm section were required to take the beginner swimming class during the semester. They liked it and would come back from class bragging about what they had learned, including how to paddle a capsized canoe. As a swimming coach, I always thought the PE swimming requirement was a good thing and had the potential to save lives.
— Chris Coraggio ’79
Demonstrable prowess
In June 1971 I attended a Red Cross water-safety camp in northern Indiana, and one of the counselors I met was Brother Louis Hurcik, CSC, who also taught physical education at Notre Dame.
That September, I was one of 1,800 new freshmen (the last all-male freshman class) eager to get oriented to campus and comfortable with classes, roommates and 18-year-old independence. At the first PE class, we were informed that there would be a mandatory swim test at the next session (no big deal) and that it would be conducted in the “classic Greek athletic style,” meaning nude (fairly big deal).
A few days later, we had 300 freshmen standing around the Rockne pool, eyes averted, imaginations flustered and hands modestly folded. Pretty unreal, really.
Brother Louis explained the basic-stroke test and ended with, “Some people try to fake us out on this test, especially with backstroke, so I would like for Norm Bower to demonstrate the backstroke for everyone.” Say what? Who? Me? Oh, come on now! How fast can I transfer to Purdue?
My mind was reeling, but I did 25 yards of backstroke without embarrassing myself. In that moment I knew I had a surreal memory that would entertain folks for years to come. (And I passed the test with a perfect score!)
— Norm Bower ’75
Failure was an option
The dreaded swim test. As a skinny, long-haired, awkward freshman, I felt it was quite the treat to be lined up naked, handed a skintight Speedo and ordered to enter the pool area where a co-ed group was forced to display their swimming abilities.
I wasn’t an elegant swimmer but assumed I was effective enough. Like every other freshman, I was just happy when it was over. Unfortunately, I failed the test, which meant I got to repeat all that awkwardness over and over again for a whole semester.
The real swim test was the first day of class. Everyone was asked to go one time across the shallow pool. It quickly became obvious to the teacher that one other student and I didn’t need swimming lessons.
In another, happier universe we might have been allowed to transfer to a different gym class, but instead we were simply banished to the big pool and told to swim laps. This was our task the rest of the semester, except for one day when we rested at the side of the pool too long and were told to dog paddle for the rest of the class.
Looking back, failing the swim test was worth it (as was going to class with icicles in my long hair, thanks to not having enough drying time and the South Bend winter). Family and friends have enjoyed hearing about my swim test and its aftermath for nearly 40 years.
— Dave Adams ’85
Among the nude dudes
As a high school athlete, I considered myself to be in pretty good shape. I wasn’t fazed by the physical education class announcement that we would be tested in several areas during the first week of classes in the fall of 1966. Hearing that one of the tests would be swimming caused a bit of consternation. My last swimming test, in the sixth grade, had resulted in my being pulled out of the pool gagging and coughing. I had managed since then, and I could handle this as well.
What? We have to go to the pool without any clothes on? Swim in the nude? Well, the school was all men, so what was the problem?
Having been brought up in a conservative, modest Catholic family was the problem.
I flunked. It wasn’t as embarrassing as the sixth grade. I didn’t have to be saved. However, my first PE unit that fall was swimming — every class in the nude. I made it through and moved to handball classes, something much more palatable.
Today, I greatly appreciate the lessons of that swimming experience. I not only became a better swimmer, but gained the additional skill of swimming nude, another benefit later in life.
— Dave Redle ’70
Trash bag? Check. Duct tape? Check.
In 1968, freshmen were welcomed to Notre Dame with a fitness test: a two-mile, 12-minute run around the old golf course and a two-lap swim at the Rock.
My two-mile run was easy, because I had been running all summer. I was also pretty confident for the swim because I had a Red Cross certificate.
The instructor had us swim half a lap in freestyle, half a lap in backstroke, turn around, then half a lap in breast stroke, and a half a lap in sidestroke (maybe it was butterfly). He said it wasn’t a race, so just take your time.
So, I took my time and was told that I was too slow and required to take one semester of swimming starting in January (no hair dryers, just a block of ice under your stocking cap on the way to your next class).
Before the class started, I suffered a knee injury playing touch football on South Quad. Surgery was over the Thanksgiving holiday and rehab started in January (coinciding with the mandatory swim class).
After using up my allowed medical absences, I had to complete the remaining classes in a leg cast.
The instructor was a terrific person. He told me to put a Hefty bag on my cast with duct tape, jump in the pool, kick with my right leg and tread water in circles for 20 minutes.
Swim class was passed, and my knee was soon in good shape again.
— John Sekula ’72
The student becomes the instructor
The swim test, for me, was no big deal. I had grown up swimming. As a Boy Scout, I had earned a couple of swim-related merit badges, and I had achieved most of the Red Cross swimming levels.
After I passed the test, I inquired about taking the Water Safety Instructor class from Brother Louis Hurcik, CSC — and he was more than accommodating. Over the next few months, I worked hard to become certified so that I could instruct in the future.
Brother Louis joked that I had one disadvantage that he did not. He then showed me his webbed toes. I was dumbfounded, as I had never met anyone with webbed toes — an obvious advantage if you know how to kick efficiently.
As part of the requirement to achieve my certification, I had to spend hours in the Rockne pool instructing and lifeguarding. Two of my most significant memories were helping Terry Buck, one of Notre Dame’s first female cheerleaders, with her swim strokes and joking with Mike McCoy, a football lineman who used to relax in the pool after working out, that he really needed to be careful in the pool because I wasn’t sure my 150-pound frame would be able to rescue him if the need arose.
— Dorn Kile ’72
Penciled in
As a freshman, I took the mandatory swim test, which was fine because I am sure it has saved lives. No problem, right? Well, I flunked the breast stroke, aka the dog paddle.
By “divine intervention,” a pencil with an eraser turned up in my hand and that flunking 6 transformed into a passing 8.
I am still a “swimmer,” a claim backed up by my completing an Olympic one-mile-swim triathlon leg. Plus, my wife, Allison ’87, was a monogrammed member of the Irish swim team. Oh, the irony.
On the same swim note, I was fortunate to be in the stands to watch Michael Phelps smoke the competition in the 200-meter butterfly at the 2004 Olympics in Athens. And then the U.S. team won the 800-meter freestyle relay by 0.13 seconds an hour later. End of story.
— Dan Weninger ’78