This post could very well be #3 in the short "Worst Night of Camp" series, but it's already part of another series. Posts can only be a part of one series. That's common knowledge. Therefore, it is not part of the "Worst Night of Camp" series. Just know that it could've been, though.
This particular night did not necessarily start out nice. It started out pretty bad. It escalated to something much worse, however. Let's start at where I want the beginning to be. I had just finished the nightly devotional, which was probably "highs and lows," where each camper shares what their favorite and least favorite part of the day was. That's a go-to devo for me, because it takes no planning, and planning is an area in which I do not excel. We finished earlier than I had anticipated, so I did the one thing I swore I would never do: I gave the kids flashlight time. I feel as though I am the strictest counselor when it comes to flashlight privileges in that my kids don't have any. I always explain to them that there is no need for a flashlight at camp and, really, there isn't. There are lights on the outside of cabins if they have to go to the bathroom at night, and that's the only scenario in which they would be outside when it's dark. However, flashlights are on the list of things to bring to camp that is sent to the parents, so every kid brings one. For flashlight time, I turned off the lights in the cabin and they all shined their lights spastically on the walls and ceiling. For some reason, that's fun. Then I thought of something else we could do, so I abruptly ended flashlight time and explained the new thing. Unfortunately, I can't remember what the new thing was, but I do remember that they were not participating. Consequently, I ended the new thing abruptly, too, and declared a premature lights out. The kids were surprisingly quiet for the first five minutes or so, but then a couple of flashlights were turned on. I confiscated them. Quiet for a few more minutes, then whispers. Whispers gave way to laughter and soft talking, which birthed normal talking. I told them to be quiet a number of times. Each time, the level of anger in my voice was more notable than the previous time. I was on the verge of using my angry-dad voice (which is quite terrifying) when the talking was reduced to only a few whispers. I drifted in and out of sleep for about an hour before finally activating full-sleep mode. That's when the trouble started.
I was awoken by the sound of someone pouring water out of a bottle onto the floor. "Why? Just...why?" I thought. "Eh, it's only water; I'll worry about it in the morning." Three seconds later, the worst smell ever to enter my nasal cavity entered my nasal cavity. "Oh. Oh no. That's not water." And it wasn't water. It was vomit. The kid was on the top bunk, just leaning his head over the side and letting it rip. I turned on one of the flashlights I confiscated earlier and caught the eyes of the kid. I simply pointed at him and did the finger motion for "come here."
"Can't I just get a drink of water or something?"
"Nope, we're going to see the health aid."
"Why can't I just get a drink of water?"
"Because you just threw up! Let's go!" For a second, I thought about just going next door and waking up Drew since, like I said in the first installment of "The Final Cabin," Drew was the health aid for the whole summer. I decided against it, though, since he had his own cabin to worry about, firstly, and secondly, we'd still have to go to the health aid office. I walked with the kid to the health aid office, making a short pit stop at the dining hall so he could rinse his mouth out. I explained to Haley, the interim health aid, what had happened and she took over from there. At this time, I realized that I still had eight kids in a hot room with the stinkiest puke puddled on the floor. I decided I should relocate my kids and then clean the puke. Luckily (and I do mean luckily), I ran into Katie, AKA Katie Dubs, AKA K-Dub Money, a service staff and tie-dye extraordinaire, on my way back to the cabin.
"Joe? What are you doing out?"
"Oh, one of my kids threw up and I had to bring him to Haley. And now I have to move my kids and clean the puke."
"Do you want me to clean the puke?"
"...Yes? If you could, that would be awesome."
"Okay! I'll clean the puke!"
I got back to the cabin and woke up all my kids and told them we were moving to a different cabin, because this cabin stinks. This took about twenty minutes because when I woke up one kid and went to the next, the first kid would fall back asleep. Paul, a counselor who was working Family Camp (which means he was not responsible for any kids), came to lead the kids to our new cabin, since he was staying in the other side of it. As I was grabbing my stuff, Katie Dubs came in with puke cleaner and went to work.
Then everybody slept and we all lived happily ever after. The end.
Showing posts with label sleep. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sleep. Show all posts
Friday, August 24, 2012
Tuesday, August 14, 2012
Belated Posts #1: LOL Week
Guys, camp wrapped up last week. I'm pretty distraught about that. As you may have noticed, my posts had become less common throughout the summer. Consequently, I have a few things about which I have wanted to write on queue. This post is about one of those things - LOL (Lord Of Life) Week. LOL Week is when Lord Of Life, a church located near the Twin Cities (or in that direction, anyway. I can't really tell you where it is. I mean, I know the town but I'm not going to say it. I'm not sure why), rents out the camp and sends it's kids there. For Lord Of Life Week, all of the counselors ride a bus to the church, which is about two and a half hours away, to pick up the kids. During LOL Week, we have the regular campers who stay for the whole week, and we have two groups of half-blast campers who each stay for only half the week. During LOL Week, I was assigned to double half-blast, which meant I would have one group of kids for the first half of the week and a different group of kids for the second half. Since it was LOL week, this meant I got to ride the bus four times. Once on Sunday with all of the counselors who were picking up their full week's worth of campers (even though I wasn't getting any campers on Sunday. Please tell me how that makes sense. I served no purpose. However, I did get a pretty good lunch at the church. Still wasn't worth the 5 hours of bus riding, though), again on Monday to go get my first batch of half-blasters, back again on Wednesday to drop off my first group and pick up my second, and then lastly on Friday, again with everybody, to drop off the campers. Let me tell you, riding on a bus full of kids is not something I would volunteer to do. Fun fact: kids love the song, "Call Me Maybe" so much, that they sing it almost continuously for over an hour sometimes. One of those times was on the bus. Of my eight bus rides (I said four earlier, but I just now decided to count each trip back as a bus ride, too), the first one was the only one during which I did not fall asleep. That was one without kids. I'm pretty much pro when it comes to sleeping. Is it irresponsible to fall asleep when I'm supposed to be supervising kids? Debatable. On one hand, I am supposed to be supervising children, and that's pretty hard to do when I'm asleep. On the other hand, we were on a bus, and who supervises children when they're on the bus to school? Nobody. I think it was acceptable for me to fall asleep.
Unfortunately, since I waited so long to write this (LOL week was like four weeks ago. Maybe five), I can't remember much about my first batch of half-blasters. One thing I do remember, though, is that I had two kids who looked very similar. Almost all of the staff, including myself, was fairly certain that they were brothers. "Nope. Everyone always says that, though. We're just neighbors." The "We're just neighbors," part lead us all to the same conclusion - one child's father had an affair with the other child's mother. Inappropriate to jump to such a dramatic conclusion? Possibly, especially considering we all work at a Bible camp. But come on - it was scary how much like brothers they looked.
My second half-blast, though, I remember very vividly. Well, I remember one kid very vividly. He was quite obnoxious. When everyone else was trying to sleep, he would just sit in his bed and talk. Not necessarily to anyone in particular, either. One time he woke me up at 6:52. "Joe? Joe? ...Joe? Hey, Joe?"
"........What."
"It's 7:00"
"No it's not - it's 6:52."
"I was rounding up."
"Oh. Wait, why does it matter if it's 7:00? We don't get up until 7:20."
"Oh, really?"
"Yes. Now go back to bed."
On Friday, after we had gotten back to camp from dropping off all of the campers, Micayla, the other counselor who had double half blast with me, and whom I like to call "Mic-Mac," informed me that this kid had autism. Not severe autism; it was more like asperger's. Still, though, the kid's parents did not tell me this. I feel like that is something that you would want the person who is in charge of your kid to know. What's worse, I think, is that the kid didn't even know. Are you kidding me, parents? I was appalled, to say the least.
Also during LOL Week, Mic-Mac and I made up a sweet game. It's similar to Rock/Paper/Scissors but way more awesome. What happens is you and your opponent do a double knuck bump and explode. When you explode your knucks, though, you form a word using your hands and your mouth, one hand on each side of your mouth, which makes an "O." The three words you can form are "LOL" (for LOL week), "WOW," and "MOM." "LOL" beats "WOW," "WOW" beats "MOM," and "MOM" beats "LOL." I encourage you all to play. I hear it's going to be in the Olympics in 2016. Train up!
Unfortunately, since I waited so long to write this (LOL week was like four weeks ago. Maybe five), I can't remember much about my first batch of half-blasters. One thing I do remember, though, is that I had two kids who looked very similar. Almost all of the staff, including myself, was fairly certain that they were brothers. "Nope. Everyone always says that, though. We're just neighbors." The "We're just neighbors," part lead us all to the same conclusion - one child's father had an affair with the other child's mother. Inappropriate to jump to such a dramatic conclusion? Possibly, especially considering we all work at a Bible camp. But come on - it was scary how much like brothers they looked.
My second half-blast, though, I remember very vividly. Well, I remember one kid very vividly. He was quite obnoxious. When everyone else was trying to sleep, he would just sit in his bed and talk. Not necessarily to anyone in particular, either. One time he woke me up at 6:52. "Joe? Joe? ...Joe? Hey, Joe?"
"........What."
"It's 7:00"
"No it's not - it's 6:52."
"I was rounding up."
"Oh. Wait, why does it matter if it's 7:00? We don't get up until 7:20."
"Oh, really?"
"Yes. Now go back to bed."
On Friday, after we had gotten back to camp from dropping off all of the campers, Micayla, the other counselor who had double half blast with me, and whom I like to call "Mic-Mac," informed me that this kid had autism. Not severe autism; it was more like asperger's. Still, though, the kid's parents did not tell me this. I feel like that is something that you would want the person who is in charge of your kid to know. What's worse, I think, is that the kid didn't even know. Are you kidding me, parents? I was appalled, to say the least.
Also during LOL Week, Mic-Mac and I made up a sweet game. It's similar to Rock/Paper/Scissors but way more awesome. What happens is you and your opponent do a double knuck bump and explode. When you explode your knucks, though, you form a word using your hands and your mouth, one hand on each side of your mouth, which makes an "O." The three words you can form are "LOL" (for LOL week), "WOW," and "MOM." "LOL" beats "WOW," "WOW" beats "MOM," and "MOM" beats "LOL." I encourage you all to play. I hear it's going to be in the Olympics in 2016. Train up!
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
A Slippery Slope, Indeed
If there's one thing I've learned whilst at college, it's that an 8:00am class in college is not the same as an 8:00am class in high school. A 9:00am class in college isn't even the same as an 8:00am class in high school. I'd go as far as to say a 10:00am class in college isn't even the same. I can't explain it, but it's 100% true.
If there are two things I've learned whilst at college, and one is that an 8:00, 9:00, or 10:00am class in college isn't the same as an 8:00am class in high school, the other is how to justify skipping a class. The morning classes are easy - "If I'm going to function properly for the rest of my classes, I should just stay in my bed and sleep; if I go to this class, I'll be too tired to focus for the rest of my day - that's more negative than skipping this morning class." That's how it starts. Skipping classes is a slippery slope, though. A slippery slope, indeed. I've never skipped an afternoon class without first skipping a morning class.
If there are two things I've learned whilst at college, and one is that an 8:00, 9:00, or 10:00am class in college isn't the same as an 8:00am class in high school, the other is how to justify skipping a class. The morning classes are easy - "If I'm going to function properly for the rest of my classes, I should just stay in my bed and sleep; if I go to this class, I'll be too tired to focus for the rest of my day - that's more negative than skipping this morning class." That's how it starts. Skipping classes is a slippery slope, though. A slippery slope, indeed. I've never skipped an afternoon class without first skipping a morning class.
There are two sides to this slope, and both of them are slippery. First, there's the short term slope. The short term slope is just one day of classes. It starts out with just the morning class being skipped. Then, maybe something else keeps you from going to your second class: "Well, I slept a little later than I planned and I didn't get to eat breakfast. If I go to this class, I won't get to eat lunch, and malnutrition isn't going to help me learn. I should stay home and have lunch." After you skip your first two classes of the day, you think, "Well, I might as well go for the clean sweep," regardless of how many classes you have that day. If you have just one more, well, that's that. You just skip it for no reason. If you have four, you just think of one more excuse: "I have a lot of laundry...I should do it now while I'm thinking about it! Otherwise I might forget." Five classes? One more excuse: "Are those clouds in the sky? Huh, they look pretty ominous... I don't want to be caught outside if it starts to storm. Maybe I'll just stay here." On the very off chance that your adviser wanted to torture you this semester and you have six classes on one day, well, I don't think you'd even have to come up with an extra excuse. "Six classes" is the only excuse you'd need.
The long term slope is for just one class, but over the course of the whole semester. Obviously, you never skip class on the first day. I personally never make it a point to skip a certain class. Like, I never think, "Psh, this class is worthless, I'll just skip it," unless I'm on the short term slope at the time and need an excuse to skip a class. Since both slopes always start with morning classes, the long term slope starts with me going to bed much too late, and when my alarm goes off I just hit it a bunch until it shuts off. I open one eye and manage to have one coherent thought: "There's no way I'm going to this class," and that's that. The next time that class comes around, of course, I remember how nice it was to skip it and sleep in. "I'll go next week," I say to myself to condone my action of skipping. This action continues for quite a while until I need to hand in homework, take a test, or anything that requires me to be there.
That class this semester is the lab for my Wellness 100 class. Wellness 100 is like a health class. It's also exactly like the health class I took my freshman year at Concordia, but those credits didn't transfer because it wasn't a lecture and a lab, it was just lecture with lab days built into the schedule. That's another justification I use for skipping it - I've already taken the class.
The long term slope is for just one class, but over the course of the whole semester. Obviously, you never skip class on the first day. I personally never make it a point to skip a certain class. Like, I never think, "Psh, this class is worthless, I'll just skip it," unless I'm on the short term slope at the time and need an excuse to skip a class. Since both slopes always start with morning classes, the long term slope starts with me going to bed much too late, and when my alarm goes off I just hit it a bunch until it shuts off. I open one eye and manage to have one coherent thought: "There's no way I'm going to this class," and that's that. The next time that class comes around, of course, I remember how nice it was to skip it and sleep in. "I'll go next week," I say to myself to condone my action of skipping. This action continues for quite a while until I need to hand in homework, take a test, or anything that requires me to be there.
That class this semester is the lab for my Wellness 100 class. Wellness 100 is like a health class. It's also exactly like the health class I took my freshman year at Concordia, but those credits didn't transfer because it wasn't a lecture and a lab, it was just lecture with lab days built into the schedule. That's another justification I use for skipping it - I've already taken the class.
Monday, February 6, 2012
True Pessimism: Waking Up
I've been told, quite often, that I am a pessimist. I always respond with, "No I'm not - I'm a realist," or, "It's not pessimism if you're always right." However, lately, I've also been told that I am an optimist. I respond to those accusations with, "lol," "Usually, I'm actually pretty pessimistic," or, "It's a lot easier to be optimistic about other people's problems than your own problems." With that said, I still think I'm a realist. However, with that said, today I had a revelation. A very, very pessimistic revelation.
Waking up is the worst way to start a day. However, it is literally the only way to start a day. Isn't that sad? Every day that I will ever experience will start out horribly. Not just horribly, but the worst way it could possibly start. I'm never happy the moment I wake up. Ever. That means I never start a day out happy. That's why I don't understand morning people. Why are they so happy? They've recently stopped sleeping - that's no reason to be happy. See, I'm a mourning person. I mourn the loss of my sleep. The best time to do that, of course, is in the morning, when I wake up. I'm not looking for sympathy; I'm just trying to spread my pessimism. You know what they say - misery loves company.
However, I could look at this from an optimist's point of view, too. I mean, I'm not really a pessimist - I'm a realist. The fact that waking up is the worst way to start a day isn't pessimism, it's reality. Anyway, the optimist's point of view. Well, every day starts out terribly by waking up, but every day also ends perfectly, by going to sleep. There's no alternative way to end a day, just like there's no alternative way to start a day. I can't think of a better way to end anything than by falling asleep. Sleep is the best. When someone says, "I fell asleep during _______," most people are like, "Haha, that sucks," or "Wow, you're lazy." Not me. I think, "Lucky!" and then wish I was asleep. That's how awesome sleep is, and everyone gets to end every day by sleeping. So, to those of you who don't believe in happy endings - your move. Your happy ending will come as soon as you choose to end today.
Wow. That last statement was hardcore optimistic and hardcore pessimistic.
Waking up is the worst way to start a day. However, it is literally the only way to start a day. Isn't that sad? Every day that I will ever experience will start out horribly. Not just horribly, but the worst way it could possibly start. I'm never happy the moment I wake up. Ever. That means I never start a day out happy. That's why I don't understand morning people. Why are they so happy? They've recently stopped sleeping - that's no reason to be happy. See, I'm a mourning person. I mourn the loss of my sleep. The best time to do that, of course, is in the morning, when I wake up. I'm not looking for sympathy; I'm just trying to spread my pessimism. You know what they say - misery loves company.
However, I could look at this from an optimist's point of view, too. I mean, I'm not really a pessimist - I'm a realist. The fact that waking up is the worst way to start a day isn't pessimism, it's reality. Anyway, the optimist's point of view. Well, every day starts out terribly by waking up, but every day also ends perfectly, by going to sleep. There's no alternative way to end a day, just like there's no alternative way to start a day. I can't think of a better way to end anything than by falling asleep. Sleep is the best. When someone says, "I fell asleep during _______," most people are like, "Haha, that sucks," or "Wow, you're lazy." Not me. I think, "Lucky!" and then wish I was asleep. That's how awesome sleep is, and everyone gets to end every day by sleeping. So, to those of you who don't believe in happy endings - your move. Your happy ending will come as soon as you choose to end today.
Wow. That last statement was hardcore optimistic and hardcore pessimistic.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)