The hardest part of camp...

So what is the hardest part about working at this camp? Is it quickly using my judgement and investigational skills to determine which kid started it when two people start to fight? Or is it constantly "reminding" the kids to throw their trash away? Is it trying to "talk it out" with each kid who is having a problem so that they can discover a new and different way of handling their problems, while the rest of the camp falls apart and turns to chaos around me? Is it the pain of having to send a misbehaving kid home, a kid who is utterly lost and who will remain so if some adult does not soon intervene, if they do not soon consciously decide to change? Is it hearing everyone around
me telling me that it is a lost cause, to just let them go? Is it the pain of losing my volunteers one by one? Is it the frustration of finally getting camp running the way it should, only to be besieged by a new group of faces eager to test my limits and eager to start territorial battles with the kids who have already been there? Is it the racism that nobody wants to talk about? Is it the attempt to find a happy balance of how 2 people can simultaneously entertain 15 year olds and 4 year olds in a place where each kid's only concern is to look out for themself? Is it the fear, everyday, that someone is going to get hurt? Is it the shock of how quickly these kids are willing to throw away any sense of self-control and pummel each other to pieces? Is it the discouragement from their lack of regard for the facilties and equipment that we use? Is it dealing with the abuse that I suspect is occurring in some of these kids' homes? Is it the fight between two adults that I had to break up in the parking lot one day before camp, the two adult PARENTS of these kids acting like five year olds, raising hell and arms and screaming at each other like a cockfight? Is it the blank, closed-off look I get from K-----'s eyes when I call him out and ask him why he's such a bully? Is it the sparkle and laughter I saw in the same boy's eyes when he was mixing the banana bread batter after he had rode his bike home to get 1/2 cup of sugar because I forgot to bring it? Is it the pain of not being able to reach those who most desperately want to be reached?


Most of these kids have blatant disregard for the facility that we use, for our equipment, for our games. It exists, they think, simply for the fun of destroying it. And I see their point. Why bother to care about something else when nobody really seems to care about you?

I began the summer with an enduring patience that I thought would never reach its end. But after just one month, I have reached my limit. We are grossly under-staffed, the city manager is not giving us the necessary supports, and the program and vision I held is turning to pieces.

I am trying not to take it personally. I suppose I've learned a great deal already-- Don't necessarily trust your supervisor to support you, find ways to work around him if necessary. Be so assertive about what you need that they won't be able to ignore you--the entire program is at stake. Make demands. Don't leave until they are met.

The entire point of this camp was to not turn kids away. The kids with the most problems are the kids who need the most help, the kids who need to be there, the kids who are the most hungry for adult contact. But I'm realizing that it is just not possible, especially with only two volunteers, to adopt this kind of a philosophy. Who the hell did I think I was? Some kind of redeeming superwoman who could handle it all? I had a fit and sent half the camp home today after a semi-fight broke out. I banned the pool table for a week after the kids were playing wild handball on the table and sparring with the pool sticks and arguing incessantly about whose turn it was. I sent one of my favorite problem kids, K-----, home for the rest of the summer. I think half of my heart broke at his sheer stubbornness and refusal to leave. For whatever reason, he did not want to go.

Only one kid came to leadership training today, so I called and canceled the guest speaker. Part of me wanted to be angry with my kids, and the other half just felt like laying down and crying. But I am an adult, so I did neither.

I guess part of the camp melt-down occured because I let up on my highly structured approach, where every minute of the day was accounted for. There were several reasons for abandoning this approach--1) More teenagers were coming than younger kids, and teenagers refuse to do things like "gardening" and "singing" or "kickball" or "fruity games." 2)We lost a volunteer, so we could no longer maintain the group rotation. Plus, none of the kids were really listening to the volunteers, I'm the only one they seem to listen to, so it was kind of not working well anyways. 3)The kids were doing well at "free-play," and it took fifteen minutes to herd each group into the forced activities that they dreaded, so I decided to give their idea a chance.

Big mistake.

I love these kids, despite it all, I just wish I could deal with one of them at a time. At the moment, I feel like an ocean ship being overrun by a gigantic herd of rats.