camp.
Tonight, Kristy and I watched a show on wilderness survival
experiences for troubled teens. It was no PBS special, mind you; they
definitely went for the drama in portraying these kids' lives. Kristy
has always wanted to work with one of those Outward Bound-type
organizations, given that she has a ton of back-country skills, and a
real way with kids. Me? I probably wouldn't like showering in a tarp
cylinder for very long. But the kid thing? And the camp thing? For sure.
I started going to camp when I was ten. It was the summer after the
winter we moved, and I didn't want to go at all. I didn't like the idea
of going someplace I'd never been -- where bugs would surely run free
-- and chilling for a week with kids I didn't know.
Now, I'm aware that some kids start camp at a much younger age than
I was at that point. In the US in particular, there seem to be a lot of
camps that bring kids in at age 5 or 6, and keep them much longer than
I was kept, which was just the span from a Monday to a Monday. But the
week seemed like plenty for me. I'd been to sleepovers, and had many
stays with grandparents, but there was always something familiar to
latch on to in those circumstances. Not so with this new experience.
I'd grown shy since we moved, too. That was especially hard; what if
I couldn't make friends? What if no one liked me? I had made friends at
my new school, but that felt like a fluke. Maybe I'd just lucked into
the right classroom of people.
My parents and grandparents were excited for me to try it, though,
and I didn't have much in the way of rational arguments to prevent my
attendance. Not only that, but my cousin Crista was going to come
along, as well. I decided to suck it up and make a go of it -- I mean,
what was the worst that could happen?
Heh.
Let me give you a list:
- two broken toes
- three days in the nurses' cabin, with canker sores a-plenty coating my mouth, and constant throwing up
- one psychotic counselor who informed me flat-out that my
various ailments were "ruining her week", and that she wished I'd "gone
to some other camp".
- two brand new ruined t-shirts
- one very scary shared shower with a spider the size of a small
rodent (I tried to douse him with shampoo...I swear he started
lathering his head with two of those awful legs)
- one very solid knock to the head with a windsurf boom
- one unknowing afternoon with a rip in the seat of my shorts
- one charging deer
At the end of the week, we wrote our best memory on a block of wood,
and melted a candle onto it, lit the candle, and sent it sailing out
into the ocean...a big symbolic moment. My block of wood turtled, and
went out immediately.
Sigh.
The funny thing was that I loved it.
For all the mayhem, I felt completely excited and alive when I was
there. I tried things I'd never tried before, and was louder than I had
any reason to be, and developed crushes on all the male staff -- ten
year-old crushes, mind you. Innocent ones.
But camp was perfect for me. I found my voice, my crowd, my place (quite literally) in the sun.
I went back as a camper every year until I was 15, and then I went
on staff at that same camp, and continued on as a junior counselor, a
senior counselor, an assistant summer director, a summer director, and
finally as year-round assistant program director, then program
director. I finally left the whole thing behind last October.
In the space of those 20 years, I finished high school, got my
degree, worked other jobs, moved around a lot...but always found myself
back at camp for 3 months out of the year, running around with kids. I
learned a lot about myself during that time.
- the fact that I wasn't nearly the scaredy cat that I thought I was
- the fact that I was capable of doing anything, if I put my mind to it
- the fact that I really loved taking care of people
- the fact that I loved being up front, and making an ass of myself
- the fact that I felt so fiercely protective of most kids that I would want to harm anyone who harmed them
- the fact that I could lead people in a way that allowed them feel stronger, and more in control of their own lives
- the fact that I could be ravaged by ailments and keep going
- the fact that I would always be addicted to coffee
- the fact that I felt more at home in the water than anywhere else
- the fact that I could plan better things on the fly than I could with three weeks of prep
- the fact that while I would never be the prettiest, the smartest, the coolest or the most skilled, I was still pretty damn okay
I see kids constantly who know me from camp, and I can spot the ones
who recognize me immediately; they approach me gingerly, eyes wide, and
say, "Are you Meg?"
And despite the fact that more than 15,000 campers came through
there on my watch, and 400 of them were my campers alone, I can usually
remember their name about 50% of the time.
Some of the kids that are on staff now were babies when I started working.
Sigh.
Good camps -- notice, not all camps, because some are horrible --
allow kids to discover the best parts of themselves. They let them
stretch their muscles, test the waters, push the boundaries, and make
mistakes; the kind of mistakes they can learn from.
I always wanted my staff to love the kids, first and foremost,
because more than anything else, that's what would free those little
people up to experience life to the fullest. You wouldn't believe how
much impact it has; or you would, if you've ever felt it.
Counsellors need patience and creativity to get by in an environment
like that, and skills to impart to their campers, but more than
anything, they need that capacity to care. And that's what I would look
for when I interviewed and hired.
I guess that's because I figured that's what had worked for me, all those years.
When I was fifteen, if you told me that this was how my life would
be at 31, I'd have told you you were nuts. I thought I'd have a husband
and kids and a house and a career, all wrapped up in a neat,
proto-feminist, neo-traditional package.
Well, I do have one out of the four, and it's what I wanted to be then, so that seems cool, at least.
As to the other three, well -- soon enough, soon enough. We'll see how my world takes shape. But I do know one thing for sure:
I can do anything, because I'm a camp girl.
12:11:31 AM 
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