The making of future lifeguards

A program hopes to encourage children to become lifeguards by teaching them rescue techniques and basic water safety.

By EILEEN SCHULTE

© St. Petersburg Times, published August 6, 2000

TARPON SPRINGS -- His swim trunks dangling almost to his knees, Devon Grimme has found that there's more to being a lifeguard than saving a panicked swimmer without getting pulled under yourself.

Lifeguards, he has learned, also try to stop guys from taking pictures of bikini-clad girls without their knowledge, blow warning whistles at Jet Ski cowboys and keep an eye on any beach creature that could hurt others -- or itself.

"I pointed out a drunk man" to authorities, 12-year-old Devon said last week. "He was talking to sea gulls."

Devon and seven other children, including two of his siblings, are participating in the Pinellas County Junior Lifeguard Program at the Fred Howard Park beach.

"This program is to spark future lifeguards," said Beth Bollman, who runs the program.

Last year, the county began the program at Fort De Soto Park at the tip of Pinellas to usher more children into lifeguard jobs after officials noticed lackluster interest in the profession. This year, the county expanded it to the north end of the county.

"We're always going to be in search of lifeguards," said Monte Alfonso, park program coordinator. "It's an ebb- and flow-type of thing."

Currently, he said, the county has "a full compliment of lifeguards, 18 temporary and two permanent. The beaches are covered."

Alfonso only hopes they stay covered through Labor Day.

"You never know when they'll have to leave to go back to school," he said.

To fill in the gaps, officials want a pool of lifeguards to choose from in the future.

So they are looking to recruit young people like Devon. A serious, well-spoken child, he was born in Hawaii, and has a father and two uncles who were lifeguards.

"Nothing is better than getting in the water and getting paid for it," Devon said.

He had emerged from the gulf after successfully completing a water drill, and was letting the noon sun and 90-degree air dry him off.

Lifeguards Brian Serio, 23, and Leonard Kerlin, 25, were sitting in the tall wooden chair under an umbrella watching the kids standing on the sand below them.

Behind them, near the parking lot, the intoxicated man who had been wandering and trying to converse with birds and beachgoers was ushered away by authorities.

"See?" Serio said. "The junior lifeguards are helping out already."

Alfonso and others in the program hint that the tough physical conditioning required to become a lifeguard may be scaring youth away.

"It looks cushy until they have to go into action," Alfonso said.

Lifeguards must hold an American Red Cross advanced life support certification or its equivalent. They also must pass a test requiring them to swim 220 yards in three minutes, 30 seconds, and run a mile in seven minutes, 30 seconds or less.

"We have a very strenuous agility test," said Serio who works part time in the summer as a lifeguard and full time as a Sunstar ambulance service emergency medical technician.

Serio, one a handful of Fred Howard Park lifeguards, said it is a "perfect" part-time gig, but he knows his body will not pass the tests forever. Some lifeguards who can't cut shore duty get jobs watching swimmers in pools.

On the recent Tuesday morning, Serio had to blow his whistle seven times at rule-breakers. One man decided to fish in the wading area. This summer has been like that: Quiet. There have been few emergencies; just kids cutting their feet on rocks and other minor incidences.

So the lifeguards have time to help train the children. Lifeguards must be 16 or older to join the profession as a waterfront guard, but kids 9 to 15 can begin learning the job through this new program.

The sessions are two weeks long and cost $25 per child. They are trained in basic lifesaving and rescue techniques, first aid, and how to operate rescue equipment. They also learn about marine life, and get experience in kayaking, paddleboarding and snorkeling.

But doing the 120-yard buoy dash while towing a floatation device known as a rescue torpedo is a thrill and a challenge.

The kids come out of the water panting.

"I'm really tired but I got through it," said Devon's sister, 9-year-old Courtney Grimme.

The kids are becoming stronger swimmers every day. But there is one thing they don't like yet: The piercing sound of the lifeguard whistle.

When they saw that Serio was about to blow his whistle at the fisherman, one child warned the others to hurry and "put your hands over your ears."

And they did.

Serio, who was watching them, smiled to himself, and waited for them to cover their ears. Then he blew the whistle, but not as hard as he could have.

- Staff writer Eileen Schulte can be reached at (727) 445-4229 or schulte@sptimes.com.

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