I just got home from my fourth summer at camp (I'M CRAZY) and, while I realize that campers tend to ask a million and one questions, my cabin that I had this past week was ridiculous. Since they asked so many questions, I feel inspired to make a list of questions that are most commonly asked at Shores of St. Andrew - or at least, questions that I tend to hear often.
- What's OTP?
- What's after this?
- Then what?
- When's Free Time?
- When do we get to go swimming?
- What's OTP?
- How old are you?
- What game are we going to play?
- Did we eat lunch yet?
- Will we get to play gaga ball?
- Will we get to play carpet ball?
- What's OTP?
- What's cabin time?
- What do we do during quiet time?
- Can we play carpet ball for quiet time?
- What are we having for dinner?
- Why don't you know what we're having for dinner?
- Where are you from?
- Are you in college?
- What's OTP?
- Were you here last year?
- Are we gonna raid the kitchen?
- What's campfire prep?
- Do we have to take showers every night?
- Do we have to take showers ever?
- What time do we have to wake up?
- Why do we have to wake up so early?
- What happens if I have to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night?
- What happens if I wake up before everyone else?
- Are we gonna play Bonkers?
- What's that game called where we find the tiles and all the counselors tag us and yell, 'Whoop whoop!'?
- What time is it?
- What's OTP?
- What are we doing tomorrow?
- Is tomorrow the last day?
- What's the Christ Hike?
- What's Hymn Sing?
- Is the canteen gonna be open?
- What's Campers' Choice?
- Can we play gaga ball during Campers' Choice?
- What do we do during Bible Study?
- Do we need our bibles for Bible Study?
- What's Morning Worship?
- What's OTP?
- Did they call seconds yet?
- Are they gonna call seconds?
- Can I get seconds?
- Do you get paid here?
- How much?
- Can I go to the bathroom?
- Can I get a drink?
- Can you help me roll up my sleeping bag?
- Why do we have to brush our teeth every night?
- Why do we have to brush our teeth at night AND in the morning?
- What do we do during Cabin Cleanup?
- What's OTP?
- What time do we leave?
- What day is it?
- Can I do a flip off the water trampoline?
- Can we go on the...(Counselor fills in blank of 'water trike') yeah! Can we go on that?
- Can I get a second dessert?
- Can we have a splash party?
- Do we get to have s'mores at campfire?
- Do we get to have s'mores at all?
- Are you gonna be back next year?
- Wait, what was OTP again?
This is a standard breakfast at camp - minus a few questions that obviously are not applicable to breakfast (like the 'splash party' question, for example). I've become very adept at answering rapid fire questions over the years.
Showing posts with label camp. Show all posts
Showing posts with label camp. Show all posts
Saturday, August 9, 2014
Thursday, March 13, 2014
Lil' Hands/Extra Credit Rap
I'm lucky enough to have extra credit opportunities for my preschool teaching class. Normally, I wouldn't take advantage of these because I'm arrogant enough to think that I don't need extra credit, because I should get an A regardless of extra credit. However, I was invited by some of my fellow student teachers to attend one recently, so I obliged. The extra credit opportunity was a "rap battle" of sorts. Not your typical rap battle, where people rap at each other and then people vote on who's better. Rather, this is a tournament-style rap battle, where a bunch of rappers have been placed in a bracket (like March Madness!) and then people listen to a song by each rapper and vote on which one was better. It's a pretty interesting concept, and I actually think it's pretty cool.
Anyway, I went to one of these, and let me tell you, it gets pretty heated. The one matchup we had was 50 Cent v. Young Jeezy. I've actually heard of both of these guys, which is saying something considering just how white I am. I don't remember the names of the songs we listened to, but the vote went to triple overtime because it was tied for the first two rounds. I had opinions on why 50 Cent should win, but I kept them to myself. You know, since I'm super white and there were people who actually liked rap and understood/appreciated it present. My reasoning for voting for 50 Cent was, and I quote, "........." That's what I voiced, anyway. Inside, though, I was screaming my opinions. "Well, the samples from both rappers were narratives, but I feel like 50 Cent's was also a message, and more meaningful and personal than Young Jeezy's. Jeezy is more of the typical and mainstream rapper of "Oh, look at me, I get all da ladies and do all da crimes and do all da drugs, which makes me awesome," while 50 Cent is real, ya know? And it sounds like he's sending a message to other rappers/people who are kind of fake (i.e. Young Jeezy) to stop being fake." I didn't say that, though, because I know nothing about rap and didn't want to get called out in that regard.
I would like to point out, though, some of the things in which I was disappointed. First of all, Andre 3000 lost his first round matchup. I don't know against whom it was, and frankly, I don't care. Andre 3000 should've won and the whole bracket lost credibility when he lost. Also, I didn't see rappers such as 50 Tyson, Supa Hot Fire, or Lil Hands anywhere on the bracket (However, I didn't see Lil Wayne, either, so credibility was restored). Lil Hands (who is actually me) wrote such hits as "Rap Sucks" and "Unnamed Rap." If you're wondering, they go as such, respectively:
Uhhh
My name's Joe Russell
I would like to point out, though, some of the things in which I was disappointed. First of all, Andre 3000 lost his first round matchup. I don't know against whom it was, and frankly, I don't care. Andre 3000 should've won and the whole bracket lost credibility when he lost. Also, I didn't see rappers such as 50 Tyson, Supa Hot Fire, or Lil Hands anywhere on the bracket (However, I didn't see Lil Wayne, either, so credibility was restored). Lil Hands (who is actually me) wrote such hits as "Rap Sucks" and "Unnamed Rap." If you're wondering, they go as such, respectively:
Uhhh
My name's Joe Russell
Not jacked with muscle
But the hustle and bustle of speech is a beach.
Now that was kind of a reach
But I'd sell my soul for some rhymes
Get paid in gold or in dimes
Or in nothing at all
That's why I'm here in Hanson Hall
And I'm in no position
To be chargin' admission
So you can sit in and listen
To the Joe Russell show
Cuz I spit it and flow
All the way to the top
Cuz I'm the cream of the crop
I'm the best under the sun
Yeah, I'm Joe Russell
Yeah, I'm Joe Russell
And I'm numbah one.
I'm Lil Hands
I'm the man with the plan
If you need to find me
You know where I am
I'm at the Shores of S-A
Almost everyday
Workin' real hard to get my pay
And I got this gangsta tune
That makes the ladies swoon
And I grab my delight in the afternoon
Too smelly to nap
Too tired to shower
This is my dilemma during power hour
Why not do both
I don't have time
So instead I sit down and I Busta Rhyme
I'm GI Joe cuz I spit it and flow
I'm the Energizer Bunny cuz I go go go
I won't stop til you know
It's the Lil Hands show
I'll give you some
Make you want some mo'.
The first one I wrote and performed for my speech class my sophomore year. Obviously, I got an A on that speech. The premise of the speech was that mainstream rap sucks. What I wrote was the exaggerate the narcisism that mainstream rappers have and how their rhymes are whack, yo. The second one I wrote at camp, as a member of Komik Sanz, the all-camp rap group featuring Lil Hands (that's me), Dub FD (that's Kris, who was the waterfront directer (waterfront directer, Dub FD...get it?) and Young Medic (that's Drew, who was the health aide). We never performed, but we could've, and it would've been glorious.
Wednesday, August 29, 2012
Belated Posts #4: Deidra's Coffee
I feel like I just can't catch up. Belated Post #4 is about a simple coffee date turning into quite the journey. Actually, it was only simple in the planning stages. As soon as the plans were put into motion, it became an unnecessarily difficult task.
During the quilt auction (an auction where quilts are sold. We have one every year at camp), I had won a game called "Heads or Tails." It's a simple game, really. The auctioneers had a quarter and they would flip it. Before each flip, every person at the auction (including camp folk such as myself), would have to commit to either heads or tails. I guessed correctly every time, making me the victor. As my prize, I was given a $20 gift card to Deidra's Coffee, which, as I hope you've guessed, is a coffee shop. I don't like coffee, but I do like someone who likes coffee: my now-girlfriend, Erika Meierding. I asked her if she'd like to go to Deidra's with me, and she obliged (I know, I know, what kind of guy uses a gift card on a date? I have no excuse for that one. But you know what? It worked out. So there).
Erika and I decided that the last day of camp would work best for our coffee date at Deidra's. On the last day of camp, though, we at Shores have to clean the camp. Erika did not work at Shores. Nor did she have a working phone, which made arranging the whole thing pretty difficult. On top of that, I wanted to say goodbye to everyone at Shores, since, sadly, I probably won't see some of them ever again. I ended up going over to Green Lake (which is where Erika worked) around 1:00. I think. I'm not entirely sure because I've taken too long to write this. Anyway, when I got to Green Lake, I saw that I had a voicemail. I listened to it, and it was Erika using Drew's (the guy from "Belated Posts #3: The Final Cabin" saga) phone. Some people had gone out to eat, including those two. Unfortunately, I don't have service at Shores, which is why that was a voicemail instead of having been a phone call that I answered. The fact that I didn't have service at the time of the call also meant that my phone wouldn't show me the number from which the call was. So, when I heard Erika leaving the voicemail, I assumed that she had gotten her phone fixed. I tried calling her, but it went right to voicemail. This is because her phone was not fixed. I listened to the voicemail again (and again and again and again) and realized that at the end of the message, Erika said she was using Drew's phone and that I should call him. However, I didn't have Drew's number. So, I texted Emily Stets and Mic-Mac from Shores to see if they had Drew's number. They both did, gave it to me, and I called it. It went to voicemail. Defeated, I sat on a bench, watching a wedding party take pictures. After about a minute, my phone started ringing, and it was Drew! Except it wasn't Drew - it was Erika! And they were going to Dairy Queen! And I could come, too! So I did! I got to Dairy Queen, Drew, Jeremy, and Bethany left, and Erika and I went to find Deidra's.
We drove all around Spicer, which isn't really that big, so it took a little more than five minutes. However, we didn't find it, so we went back to Green Lake to utilize their internet and google the location of Deidra's. My hatred for google maps is well documented, but we used it anyway. Guess what - it was wrong. It told us to take a left at a certain intersection when, in reality, we were supposed to do the exact opposite of that (which is to take a right). We went back to winging it, and eventually, we found it. We arrived at about 2:45, and it closes at 3:00 on Saturdays, which is what day it was. I think those times are right. Maybe not. Regardless, we got there fifteen minutes before it closed. Consequently, the espresso machine was turned off, which was actually fine because neither of us wanted anything that required an espresso machine. However, when I presented my gift card, the lady (Deidra?) said, "You know what? This is on the house. You guys are so great. Thank you for understanding about the espresso machine. I'm sorry again about that, so this is free."
Whelp. Alright, then. I feel like that was the universe's way of showing that it felt bad for me for not being able to find Deidra's, and for using a gift card on a date.
During the quilt auction (an auction where quilts are sold. We have one every year at camp), I had won a game called "Heads or Tails." It's a simple game, really. The auctioneers had a quarter and they would flip it. Before each flip, every person at the auction (including camp folk such as myself), would have to commit to either heads or tails. I guessed correctly every time, making me the victor. As my prize, I was given a $20 gift card to Deidra's Coffee, which, as I hope you've guessed, is a coffee shop. I don't like coffee, but I do like someone who likes coffee: my now-girlfriend, Erika Meierding. I asked her if she'd like to go to Deidra's with me, and she obliged (I know, I know, what kind of guy uses a gift card on a date? I have no excuse for that one. But you know what? It worked out. So there).
Erika and I decided that the last day of camp would work best for our coffee date at Deidra's. On the last day of camp, though, we at Shores have to clean the camp. Erika did not work at Shores. Nor did she have a working phone, which made arranging the whole thing pretty difficult. On top of that, I wanted to say goodbye to everyone at Shores, since, sadly, I probably won't see some of them ever again. I ended up going over to Green Lake (which is where Erika worked) around 1:00. I think. I'm not entirely sure because I've taken too long to write this. Anyway, when I got to Green Lake, I saw that I had a voicemail. I listened to it, and it was Erika using Drew's (the guy from "Belated Posts #3: The Final Cabin" saga) phone. Some people had gone out to eat, including those two. Unfortunately, I don't have service at Shores, which is why that was a voicemail instead of having been a phone call that I answered. The fact that I didn't have service at the time of the call also meant that my phone wouldn't show me the number from which the call was. So, when I heard Erika leaving the voicemail, I assumed that she had gotten her phone fixed. I tried calling her, but it went right to voicemail. This is because her phone was not fixed. I listened to the voicemail again (and again and again and again) and realized that at the end of the message, Erika said she was using Drew's phone and that I should call him. However, I didn't have Drew's number. So, I texted Emily Stets and Mic-Mac from Shores to see if they had Drew's number. They both did, gave it to me, and I called it. It went to voicemail. Defeated, I sat on a bench, watching a wedding party take pictures. After about a minute, my phone started ringing, and it was Drew! Except it wasn't Drew - it was Erika! And they were going to Dairy Queen! And I could come, too! So I did! I got to Dairy Queen, Drew, Jeremy, and Bethany left, and Erika and I went to find Deidra's.
We drove all around Spicer, which isn't really that big, so it took a little more than five minutes. However, we didn't find it, so we went back to Green Lake to utilize their internet and google the location of Deidra's. My hatred for google maps is well documented, but we used it anyway. Guess what - it was wrong. It told us to take a left at a certain intersection when, in reality, we were supposed to do the exact opposite of that (which is to take a right). We went back to winging it, and eventually, we found it. We arrived at about 2:45, and it closes at 3:00 on Saturdays, which is what day it was. I think those times are right. Maybe not. Regardless, we got there fifteen minutes before it closed. Consequently, the espresso machine was turned off, which was actually fine because neither of us wanted anything that required an espresso machine. However, when I presented my gift card, the lady (Deidra?) said, "You know what? This is on the house. You guys are so great. Thank you for understanding about the espresso machine. I'm sorry again about that, so this is free."
Whelp. Alright, then. I feel like that was the universe's way of showing that it felt bad for me for not being able to find Deidra's, and for using a gift card on a date.
Monday, August 27, 2012
Belated Posts #3: The Final Cabin, Part 3 - My Least Favorite, Favorite
So, the last week of camp I had really dumb kids and a sick kid. Now I'm going to tell about the most dramatic change in favoritism I've ever experienced.
The youngest and smallest kid in my cabin started out as my favorite kid in my cabin. He was so sweet and cute, I couldn't help but make him my favorite. He'd give me hugs for no reason, hold my hand whenever we walked anywhere, and he even had a cute little voice. But then things went south real fast, and it all started when I decided to bring my cabin on a pontoon ride.
It was a windy day and, consequently, there were some waves. Once in a while, some globules of water would splatter on us in the pontoon. When the first one hit my lil' favie, he dropped the f-bomb, as in, "What the (f-bomb)?" Kris, the waterfront director, called him out on it.
"Did you just drop the f-bomb?"
"...No."
"I'm pretty sure I heard you drop the f-bomb."
"No, I said, "What the...frick."
"No, I heard the f-bomb."
"I said-"
"You know what - I don't care. Just don't say any more things that start with "What the," okay?"
"But I didn't-"
"I don't care! Just don't do it!"
After that, he quickly descended my rankings of favorite camper. By the end of the week, the only time he would talk to me was when he was tattling on someone, and he talked to me a lot. He'd tattle on anyone for anything. One night for devotions, Drew and I integrated our cabins and did bro-tips. Being very bro-ish in nature, both of us had a good amount of combined bro-knowledge. I feel like we passed on a lot of useful tips such as, but not limited to, always lift the seat when you pee, respect the ladies, call girls 'pretty.' 'beautiful,' or 'cute' instead of 'hot,' be nice to your friends' parents, etc. After we ran out of tips, Drew took his kids back to their cabin. As they were leaving, I gave them all high-fives. Once the last of Drew's kids were in their cabin, my lil' no-longer-favie came up to me.
"Um, Joe?"
"Yes?"
"Um, you know that kid you just high-fived?"
"Yeah?"
"Um, the one with the red hair?"
"Yeah. What about him?"
"Um, well, he steals things from other kids."
"(To myself, in my head) 'Ohhhh my goodness. No he doesn't. You need to stop tattling.' Sigh...Okay. Thanks for telling me that. Now go to bed."
And yes, he did start every sentence with "Um."
The youngest and smallest kid in my cabin started out as my favorite kid in my cabin. He was so sweet and cute, I couldn't help but make him my favorite. He'd give me hugs for no reason, hold my hand whenever we walked anywhere, and he even had a cute little voice. But then things went south real fast, and it all started when I decided to bring my cabin on a pontoon ride.
It was a windy day and, consequently, there were some waves. Once in a while, some globules of water would splatter on us in the pontoon. When the first one hit my lil' favie, he dropped the f-bomb, as in, "What the (f-bomb)?" Kris, the waterfront director, called him out on it.
"Did you just drop the f-bomb?"
"...No."
"I'm pretty sure I heard you drop the f-bomb."
"No, I said, "What the...frick."
"No, I heard the f-bomb."
"I said-"
"You know what - I don't care. Just don't say any more things that start with "What the," okay?"
"But I didn't-"
"I don't care! Just don't do it!"
After that, he quickly descended my rankings of favorite camper. By the end of the week, the only time he would talk to me was when he was tattling on someone, and he talked to me a lot. He'd tattle on anyone for anything. One night for devotions, Drew and I integrated our cabins and did bro-tips. Being very bro-ish in nature, both of us had a good amount of combined bro-knowledge. I feel like we passed on a lot of useful tips such as, but not limited to, always lift the seat when you pee, respect the ladies, call girls 'pretty.' 'beautiful,' or 'cute' instead of 'hot,' be nice to your friends' parents, etc. After we ran out of tips, Drew took his kids back to their cabin. As they were leaving, I gave them all high-fives. Once the last of Drew's kids were in their cabin, my lil' no-longer-favie came up to me.
"Um, Joe?"
"Yes?"
"Um, you know that kid you just high-fived?"
"Yeah?"
"Um, the one with the red hair?"
"Yeah. What about him?"
"Um, well, he steals things from other kids."
"(To myself, in my head) 'Ohhhh my goodness. No he doesn't. You need to stop tattling.' Sigh...Okay. Thanks for telling me that. Now go to bed."
And yes, he did start every sentence with "Um."
Friday, August 24, 2012
Belated Posts #3: The Final Cabin, Part 2 - Smells Like Teen Spirit. No Wait, That's Vomit
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.
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.
Wednesday, August 22, 2012
Belated Posts #3: The Final Cabin, Part 1 - Power Hour
During the last week of camp, I was lucky enough to be counseling. It's always a blessing to be on site during the last week because, well, it's the last week and it'd be nice to actually be there for it. I was also lucky enough to have Drew Boraas as my co-counselor for the week. Drew was the health aid for the summer so, obviously, this was his first week counseling. You may be thinking, "Why was it lucky you had a first time counselor as your co-counselor?" Valid question, and the answer is simply that Drew is a pretty cool guy; it has nothing to do with his counseling experience.
Anyway, none of that is relevant, really. For the last week of camp, I had third graders in my cabin, which is pretty ideal, considering I'm going to have a career working with second graders. However, these third graders didn't have very good memory. I don't know if there was like, a virus in the cabin that spread from kid to kid to cause a coding/storage/recall deficiency or something, but they just could not remember anything. For instance, every day we have something called "Power Hour," which is when the counselors get an hour without kids. During that hour, the kids go play games with the Assistant Program Directors. I never know what games they're playing because it doesn't concern me. However, my kids always thought I knew.
Monday:
"Joe, what are we doing for Power Hour?"
"Playing a game with Stever and Annie."
"What game?"
"I don't know."
"Why not?"
"I don't participate in the game, so I don't ask what it is. I'm not even there for it, so I don't know."
Tuesday:
"Joe, what are we doing for Power Hour?"
"Remember what you did yesterday for Power Hour?"
"...Carpet ball?"
"Nope. You guys played a game with Stever and Annie, right?"
"Oh, yeah!"
"You're doing that again."
"What game?"
"I don't know."
"Is it 'Everybody's It Tag'?"
"Did you play that yesterday?"
"Yes!"
"Then no."
Wednesday:
"Joe, what are we doing for Power Hour?"
"I'm gonna go way out on a limb here and guess that you're going to play a game, and that it'll probably be with Stever and Annie."
"What game?"
"When was the last time I answered that question for you?"
"Umm...I don't know."
"I don't know what game you're playing."
Thursday:
"Joe, what are we doing for Power Hour?"
"I'm curious - what do you think you're doing for Power Hour today?"
"I don't know."
"Well, what did you do yesterday?"
"Play games with Stever and Annie?"
"Right! And what did you do the day before that?"
"Play games with Stever and Annie...?"
"Right again! And do you remember what you did the day before that?"
"Play games with Stever and Annie..."
"Exactly! So, if you were to just venture a guess as to what you are doing for Power Hour today, what would you guess?"
"...What game are we playing?"
"Sigh...Have I ever known what game you're playing for Power Hour?"
"No..."
"Right. And today is no different. I do not know what game you are playing."
There are a few more scenarios that are similar to this one, but I used up a ton of space with dialogue and I think it would be cruel to continue. Just believe me when I tell you that this cabin tested my patience more than any other cabin I have had. It was fun, though.
Anyway, none of that is relevant, really. For the last week of camp, I had third graders in my cabin, which is pretty ideal, considering I'm going to have a career working with second graders. However, these third graders didn't have very good memory. I don't know if there was like, a virus in the cabin that spread from kid to kid to cause a coding/storage/recall deficiency or something, but they just could not remember anything. For instance, every day we have something called "Power Hour," which is when the counselors get an hour without kids. During that hour, the kids go play games with the Assistant Program Directors. I never know what games they're playing because it doesn't concern me. However, my kids always thought I knew.
Monday:
"Joe, what are we doing for Power Hour?"
"Playing a game with Stever and Annie."
"What game?"
"I don't know."
"Why not?"
"I don't participate in the game, so I don't ask what it is. I'm not even there for it, so I don't know."
Tuesday:
"Joe, what are we doing for Power Hour?"
"Remember what you did yesterday for Power Hour?"
"...Carpet ball?"
"Nope. You guys played a game with Stever and Annie, right?"
"Oh, yeah!"
"You're doing that again."
"What game?"
"I don't know."
"Is it 'Everybody's It Tag'?"
"Did you play that yesterday?"
"Yes!"
"Then no."
Wednesday:
"Joe, what are we doing for Power Hour?"
"I'm gonna go way out on a limb here and guess that you're going to play a game, and that it'll probably be with Stever and Annie."
"What game?"
"When was the last time I answered that question for you?"
"Umm...I don't know."
"I don't know what game you're playing."
Thursday:
"Joe, what are we doing for Power Hour?"
"I'm curious - what do you think you're doing for Power Hour today?"
"I don't know."
"Well, what did you do yesterday?"
"Play games with Stever and Annie?"
"Right! And what did you do the day before that?"
"Play games with Stever and Annie...?"
"Right again! And do you remember what you did the day before that?"
"Play games with Stever and Annie..."
"Exactly! So, if you were to just venture a guess as to what you are doing for Power Hour today, what would you guess?"
"...What game are we playing?"
"Sigh...Have I ever known what game you're playing for Power Hour?"
"No..."
"Right. And today is no different. I do not know what game you are playing."
There are a few more scenarios that are similar to this one, but I used up a ton of space with dialogue and I think it would be cruel to continue. Just believe me when I tell you that this cabin tested my patience more than any other cabin I have had. It was fun, though.
Thursday, August 16, 2012
Belated Posts #2: Camp Poops
As I said in my previous post, camp is now over. However, I have some untold stories I'd like to tell regarding camp. This one is about Camp Poops. Okay, it's actually called Camp Hoops, but say that kind of fast. It sounds like Camp Poops, doesn't it? Yes. Yes it does. This year, camp decided to have a bunch of specialty camps. For instance, there was Horse Camp, Music and Drama Camp, some other camps that I can't remember, and Camp Poops. I'm not entirely sure why, out of all of the camps, Camp Poops was the one where Camp was the first word, but whatever. Since my domination at the game of lightning is pretty much legendary, I was asked if I could counsel at Camp Poops. Of course I said yes.
If you've been to either Shores or Green Lake, you probably noticed that our basketball facilities are lacking. Camp Poops was held at Green Lake since it was for kids who are actually old enough to do basketball things. Green Lake has five(?) hoops, but none of them are very nice, and the court is also pretty meh. However, for Camp Poops, the court was repaved and some new hoops were put up. Also, a parking lot was transformed into a a court with four hoops. It was actually really nice. I was impressed. When I saw the parking lot court, I got really excited. I mean, I was going to get to play basketball. It's not like I'm good at basketball or anything, I just really like to play. I guess I'm okay at basketball, just not compared to most people who have actually played basketball.
It turned out, though, that the other two counselors and I didn't even get to play basketball. We didn't even really get to counsel. All we did was make sure the kids got to where they were supposed to be, which usually meant the basketball court. It was frustrating for us, though, because Camp Poops wasn't very coordinated. It took until Wednesday for there to be a set schedule. It didn't help that it rained a few times, so we had to get all of the kids to a gym. Also, for some reason, Camp Poops kids had to stay in different cabins from the rest of the campers. At Green Lake, all of the campers stay in a lodge with different rooms. Camp Poopers (those who were part of Camp Poops) had to stay in actual cabins, which I was totally fine with, except we only had one shower. One shower for nine sweaty kids is not ideal. Somehow, all of us, including me, managed to shower in one hour. I was so proud. Another bad thing about being secluded from the rest of camp was that our banquet for the end of the week was lame. Usually everyone dresses up, but since it was just a bunch of guys, we had no one to dress up for. Also, our cabins were not air conditioned, and we needed air conditioning more than everyone. Granted, the rooms in the lodge aren't air conditioned, either, but the dining hall in the lodge is. Whatever. Camp Poops was still fun. I got to hang out with the Green Lake staff, which I normally don't get to do, and I got a sweet shirt. I'd say that's pretty worth it.
Oh, I almost forgot. It was decided that I'm a little baby and need to have a friend from Shores come with me to work at Green Lake. Mic-Mac was chosen. I feel like that was a great choice, but it was kinda dumb because I was secluded from actual camp things most of the time. Oh well. We played a few games of LOL/WOW/MOM, and it was awesome.
If you've been to either Shores or Green Lake, you probably noticed that our basketball facilities are lacking. Camp Poops was held at Green Lake since it was for kids who are actually old enough to do basketball things. Green Lake has five(?) hoops, but none of them are very nice, and the court is also pretty meh. However, for Camp Poops, the court was repaved and some new hoops were put up. Also, a parking lot was transformed into a a court with four hoops. It was actually really nice. I was impressed. When I saw the parking lot court, I got really excited. I mean, I was going to get to play basketball. It's not like I'm good at basketball or anything, I just really like to play. I guess I'm okay at basketball, just not compared to most people who have actually played basketball.
It turned out, though, that the other two counselors and I didn't even get to play basketball. We didn't even really get to counsel. All we did was make sure the kids got to where they were supposed to be, which usually meant the basketball court. It was frustrating for us, though, because Camp Poops wasn't very coordinated. It took until Wednesday for there to be a set schedule. It didn't help that it rained a few times, so we had to get all of the kids to a gym. Also, for some reason, Camp Poops kids had to stay in different cabins from the rest of the campers. At Green Lake, all of the campers stay in a lodge with different rooms. Camp Poopers (those who were part of Camp Poops) had to stay in actual cabins, which I was totally fine with, except we only had one shower. One shower for nine sweaty kids is not ideal. Somehow, all of us, including me, managed to shower in one hour. I was so proud. Another bad thing about being secluded from the rest of camp was that our banquet for the end of the week was lame. Usually everyone dresses up, but since it was just a bunch of guys, we had no one to dress up for. Also, our cabins were not air conditioned, and we needed air conditioning more than everyone. Granted, the rooms in the lodge aren't air conditioned, either, but the dining hall in the lodge is. Whatever. Camp Poops was still fun. I got to hang out with the Green Lake staff, which I normally don't get to do, and I got a sweet shirt. I'd say that's pretty worth it.
Oh, I almost forgot. It was decided that I'm a little baby and need to have a friend from Shores come with me to work at Green Lake. Mic-Mac was chosen. I feel like that was a great choice, but it was kinda dumb because I was secluded from actual camp things most of the time. Oh well. We played a few games of LOL/WOW/MOM, and it was awesome.
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!
Saturday, June 23, 2012
Worst* Night of Camp 2: Electric Boogaloo
*This was the worst night for campers. If you've read my post, "Worst Night of Camp," that night was much worse than this night for me. Even if you haven't read that post, that night was still worse for me. I actually enjoyed the night about which I am going to write.
'Twas the first night of camp for the summer. I had just completed the Bible study for the evening and was about to bring my cabin to beach orientation when Kris, the water front director, informed me that the aqua challenge (where it is determined if kids are deep or shallow water swimmers) will not be held after beach orientation due to the impending rain. My kids and I went back to our cabin so they could change out of their swimming attire, and very shortly after I was informed that we would be heading to the party room. The party room is our storm shelter. We call it the party room because that sounds a lot more fun than storm shelter and the goal here is to not have the kids freak out.
Within the first two minutes of being in the party room, one of the campers (not mine, thank God) threw up. It was gross, as throw up usually is. Surprisingly, we somehow avoided the inevitable chain reaction of throw up that usually happens with children (and me). We still had to sit with the smell for about ten minutes, though.
In the party room, we usually sing the camp songs of the week until the storm passes and it's safe for us to go back to our cabins. This time, however, we ran out of camp songs, as the storm lasted for three hours. We then started to sing camp songs that weren't from that week. Mark and I were leading my all-time favorite camp song, Psalm 150, when the power went out. We flawlessly executed a distraction by singing louder, and since Psalm 150 is a call and response style of song, the kids sang louder, too, not even noticing that the power went out. Eventually, though, even after about 15 verses of "Peace," we were out of viable camp song options. Mark, Kris, and I then sang Adam Sandler's "Lunch Lady Land," and I feel like that went over pretty well. Mark and I then did an impression of Hootie and the Blowfish which, predictably, did not go over well because the kids have no idea who that is. As a last-ditch attempt to keep order in the party room, Mark and I performed a stirring rendition of the Flintstones theme song. I don't think the kids knew who the Flintstones were, either, so that didn't go as well as I had hoped, but it was a ton of fun for me.
Three hours after we arrived at the party room, the storm subsided and we were allowed to return to our cabins. It was still raining pretty hard, though. Once my kids and I got back to our cabin, I asked if any of them had to go to the bathroom. Of course, they all had to, so we all grabbed our flashlights (the power was still out) and began to leave. Just before I went out the door, I remembered I had a rain jacket. "Oh! I can wear my rain jacket, because I have one. Ha, ha, ha." After I had said this, about five of my seven campers remembered that their mothers made them bring a rain jacket, too. We all went down and went to the bathroom. When we got back, one of my campers took off his jacket with a huge smile on his face. "I'm so glad my mom makes me do stuff now!"
The power didn't come back on until about 10:45. All of my campers were still awake and they were very excited about the power returning. Since I had already yelled at them to be quiet about six times, though, they only uttered whispers of jubilation.
And we all slept happily ever after. The end.
'Twas the first night of camp for the summer. I had just completed the Bible study for the evening and was about to bring my cabin to beach orientation when Kris, the water front director, informed me that the aqua challenge (where it is determined if kids are deep or shallow water swimmers) will not be held after beach orientation due to the impending rain. My kids and I went back to our cabin so they could change out of their swimming attire, and very shortly after I was informed that we would be heading to the party room. The party room is our storm shelter. We call it the party room because that sounds a lot more fun than storm shelter and the goal here is to not have the kids freak out.
Within the first two minutes of being in the party room, one of the campers (not mine, thank God) threw up. It was gross, as throw up usually is. Surprisingly, we somehow avoided the inevitable chain reaction of throw up that usually happens with children (and me). We still had to sit with the smell for about ten minutes, though.
In the party room, we usually sing the camp songs of the week until the storm passes and it's safe for us to go back to our cabins. This time, however, we ran out of camp songs, as the storm lasted for three hours. We then started to sing camp songs that weren't from that week. Mark and I were leading my all-time favorite camp song, Psalm 150, when the power went out. We flawlessly executed a distraction by singing louder, and since Psalm 150 is a call and response style of song, the kids sang louder, too, not even noticing that the power went out. Eventually, though, even after about 15 verses of "Peace," we were out of viable camp song options. Mark, Kris, and I then sang Adam Sandler's "Lunch Lady Land," and I feel like that went over pretty well. Mark and I then did an impression of Hootie and the Blowfish which, predictably, did not go over well because the kids have no idea who that is. As a last-ditch attempt to keep order in the party room, Mark and I performed a stirring rendition of the Flintstones theme song. I don't think the kids knew who the Flintstones were, either, so that didn't go as well as I had hoped, but it was a ton of fun for me.
Three hours after we arrived at the party room, the storm subsided and we were allowed to return to our cabins. It was still raining pretty hard, though. Once my kids and I got back to our cabin, I asked if any of them had to go to the bathroom. Of course, they all had to, so we all grabbed our flashlights (the power was still out) and began to leave. Just before I went out the door, I remembered I had a rain jacket. "Oh! I can wear my rain jacket, because I have one. Ha, ha, ha." After I had said this, about five of my seven campers remembered that their mothers made them bring a rain jacket, too. We all went down and went to the bathroom. When we got back, one of my campers took off his jacket with a huge smile on his face. "I'm so glad my mom makes me do stuff now!"
The power didn't come back on until about 10:45. All of my campers were still awake and they were very excited about the power returning. Since I had already yelled at them to be quiet about six times, though, they only uttered whispers of jubilation.
And we all slept happily ever after. The end.
Thursday, June 14, 2012
Things I've Learned At Camp (So Far)
Camp is almost in full swing for the summer; staff training just finished up and on Sunday, campers will be coming. Even though I've already experienced life as a camp counselor last year, I feel like there are many things for me to learn. For instance, here are ten things I learned from the first week of staff training and the day camp I went on this last week.
1. A weed whacker doubles as a lawn mower and triples as a hedge trimmer.
2. When a kid poops her pants - twice - it does not decrease her cuteness at all.
3. When said kid says, "My mommy says I have soft stools," after pooping her pants, pooping her pants actually makes her cuter.
4. My "angry dad" voice scares kids like nothing else.
5. The best way to avoid the Lutheran theology seminar is to be sick.
6. The best meal of the day is late-night cereal.
7. There's no shame in going to bed at 9:30, even though it's summer.
8. Sometimes teddy bears are actually horrifying instead of cute (my host family had the most terrifying teddy bear I've ever seen. Like, seriously - this is the stuff from which nightmares are made).
9. If the meal is beef commercials and hashbrowns, I can put it down like Kobayashi.
10. Sometimes people will just steal your Cheez-Its and give them to the kids for snack.
1. A weed whacker doubles as a lawn mower and triples as a hedge trimmer.
2. When a kid poops her pants - twice - it does not decrease her cuteness at all.
3. When said kid says, "My mommy says I have soft stools," after pooping her pants, pooping her pants actually makes her cuter.
4. My "angry dad" voice scares kids like nothing else.
5. The best way to avoid the Lutheran theology seminar is to be sick.
6. The best meal of the day is late-night cereal.
7. There's no shame in going to bed at 9:30, even though it's summer.
8. Sometimes teddy bears are actually horrifying instead of cute (my host family had the most terrifying teddy bear I've ever seen. Like, seriously - this is the stuff from which nightmares are made).
9. If the meal is beef commercials and hashbrowns, I can put it down like Kobayashi.
10. Sometimes people will just steal your Cheez-Its and give them to the kids for snack.
Monday, April 23, 2012
Elementary Retreat At GLBC
This last weekend, I helped out with an elementary retreat at Green Lake Bible Camp. I was really excited, because I've been yearning for camp since September. However, I had no idea what the retreat actually was. Early last week, Danielle, one of my friends who is on the summer staff for camp, told me I should help out, because they needed help and I'd be good at it. I agreed. Throughout the week, I found out a little bit more about the retreat, such as when I have to be there, that they needed a guitar player and more people to help, and that's actually all I found out. It dawned on me that I might have to be the guitar player. That was a little unnerving because my confidence level regarding my guitar proficiency is at or near zero. To ensure that I could not be the guitar player, I "forgot" to bring my guitar. However, when we were going over the schedule and creating the song list for the weekend, Linnae, the program director, asked who could play guitar. "You can, can't you?" I asked her. She said she could fake it. I'm not entirely sure what that means in regards to playing guitar. Anyway, she agreed to be the guitar player, I guess, but when she looked at the chords for one of the songs, she became flustered. "An E-slide? What's that?"
"E-slide? That's easy. You just play an E higher up on the neck," I answered. As soon as those words left my mouth, I immediately regretted it. Everyone turned their heads towards me, and I realized that I had just been named the guitar player. Since I didn't bring mine, we had to find a guitar. We found one (it was pretty nice, actually - nicer than mine, anyway) but we couldn't find a pick or a capo. A couple of the songs that we chose needed a capo, and didn't sound very good without one, so we sang those a cappella. It turns out that those songs sound horrible a cappella - lesson learned. Since we couldn't find a pick, I had to strum with my fingers. I'm horrible at strumming with my fingers. After the last song session, my fingers were bleeding.
As the kids were showing up, we would take them outside so they could play. They had some kickballs to play with, which is really all you need to entertain young children. "The only rule is that you do not kick or throw the balls towards the lake," I announced. Two minutes later, I was up to my thighs in lake water, retrieving a rogue ball. I wouldn't have had much of a problem with this, except that I could only roll my pants up to my knees.
That night, I couldn't sleep. My kids could sleep. That's actually why I couldn't sleep. One of my kids was snoring extremely loudly. That kept me up. Like any teenager, I started to text people, telling them I couldn't slip. Then I remembered I'm not actually a teenager, but I was too tired to feel shame. Eventually, the kid stopped snoring, and I drifted off into a peaceful sleep. That is, until about half an hour later, when I woke to the sound of a crying child. I went over to where it was coming from and found one of my kids on the floor. "What happened?" I asked.
"I fell out of my bed," he sniffled. This boy had been on the top bunk.
"What?! Are you okay?!" He didn't answer - he just cried. "Can you come out to the hallway with me?" I asked.
He tried to stand up, but couldn't. "No," he replied. Oh. He can't get up. That's not good at all. At this point I was thinking that he broke something. It was 1:00 in the morning, so the nurse wasn't there. I was on the verge of panicking. Then I thought he'd have been crying louder had he actually broken something. Remembering that one has to risk it to get the biscuit, I said, "I need you to come out into the hallway with me. I'll carry you if you can't walk." He stood right up and followed me into the hallway. "How long were you laying there?" I asked.
"A long time." Well, that wasn't true, because I had only fallen asleep a half hour ago.
"Okay, you're holding your side - does anywhere else hurt?"
"No, just my side."
"Alright, do you want a drink of water?" I led him over to the water fountain and he took a drink. "Do you want to sit for a little bit, until you feel better?" I asked.
"Yeah." Not even a minute later, he stopped crying and said he felt better. I asked if he was sure and he said he was. I led him back to our room and moved his stuff to a bottom bunk. He got into bed, and I got back into mine, and he started to cry again. I waited about five minutes before I went over to his bed. "Are you sure you're feeling better?"
"Yeah."
"Oh, well, alright then. Goodnight." He kept crying for fifteen more minutes, and then fell asleep. So, at about 1:30, I finally fell asleep for the night. By 6:45, all of my kids were awake and talking to each other. Then, Isaac's cabin (Isaac was another counselor) burst into my room wielding pillows. It was a sneak attack, and my cabin had no chance. After they left, I gathered my kids and devised a counterattack. We stormed into Isaac's room, but they weren't there. "Okay, guys, hide. We'll wait for them to come back, and then ambush them!" A few minutes later, Isaac came back, but not his cabin. He told us that their room was too hot, and they moved into a different room. I was disappointed, because I was pretty proud of my ambush-counterattack strategy, but we stormed into the other room to satisfy my kids' longing for revenge. Isaac's cabin was quick to react, though, fending off our forces. I called for a retreat, and we fled back to our room, waking up the other cabin on our floor. I've decided that military strategist is not a career I should pursue.
Also, there were a few fantastic quotes by kids from the weekend. These two are the best. The first is taken way out of context, so don't judge me or my fellow counselors.
"Somebody please kill me!"
"Nobody step on my sweatshirt! My glasses are in there and they are doing some funky things."
"E-slide? That's easy. You just play an E higher up on the neck," I answered. As soon as those words left my mouth, I immediately regretted it. Everyone turned their heads towards me, and I realized that I had just been named the guitar player. Since I didn't bring mine, we had to find a guitar. We found one (it was pretty nice, actually - nicer than mine, anyway) but we couldn't find a pick or a capo. A couple of the songs that we chose needed a capo, and didn't sound very good without one, so we sang those a cappella. It turns out that those songs sound horrible a cappella - lesson learned. Since we couldn't find a pick, I had to strum with my fingers. I'm horrible at strumming with my fingers. After the last song session, my fingers were bleeding.
As the kids were showing up, we would take them outside so they could play. They had some kickballs to play with, which is really all you need to entertain young children. "The only rule is that you do not kick or throw the balls towards the lake," I announced. Two minutes later, I was up to my thighs in lake water, retrieving a rogue ball. I wouldn't have had much of a problem with this, except that I could only roll my pants up to my knees.
That night, I couldn't sleep. My kids could sleep. That's actually why I couldn't sleep. One of my kids was snoring extremely loudly. That kept me up. Like any teenager, I started to text people, telling them I couldn't slip. Then I remembered I'm not actually a teenager, but I was too tired to feel shame. Eventually, the kid stopped snoring, and I drifted off into a peaceful sleep. That is, until about half an hour later, when I woke to the sound of a crying child. I went over to where it was coming from and found one of my kids on the floor. "What happened?" I asked.
"I fell out of my bed," he sniffled. This boy had been on the top bunk.
"What?! Are you okay?!" He didn't answer - he just cried. "Can you come out to the hallway with me?" I asked.
He tried to stand up, but couldn't. "No," he replied. Oh. He can't get up. That's not good at all. At this point I was thinking that he broke something. It was 1:00 in the morning, so the nurse wasn't there. I was on the verge of panicking. Then I thought he'd have been crying louder had he actually broken something. Remembering that one has to risk it to get the biscuit, I said, "I need you to come out into the hallway with me. I'll carry you if you can't walk." He stood right up and followed me into the hallway. "How long were you laying there?" I asked.
"A long time." Well, that wasn't true, because I had only fallen asleep a half hour ago.
"Okay, you're holding your side - does anywhere else hurt?"
"No, just my side."
"Alright, do you want a drink of water?" I led him over to the water fountain and he took a drink. "Do you want to sit for a little bit, until you feel better?" I asked.
"Yeah." Not even a minute later, he stopped crying and said he felt better. I asked if he was sure and he said he was. I led him back to our room and moved his stuff to a bottom bunk. He got into bed, and I got back into mine, and he started to cry again. I waited about five minutes before I went over to his bed. "Are you sure you're feeling better?"
"Yeah."
"Oh, well, alright then. Goodnight." He kept crying for fifteen more minutes, and then fell asleep. So, at about 1:30, I finally fell asleep for the night. By 6:45, all of my kids were awake and talking to each other. Then, Isaac's cabin (Isaac was another counselor) burst into my room wielding pillows. It was a sneak attack, and my cabin had no chance. After they left, I gathered my kids and devised a counterattack. We stormed into Isaac's room, but they weren't there. "Okay, guys, hide. We'll wait for them to come back, and then ambush them!" A few minutes later, Isaac came back, but not his cabin. He told us that their room was too hot, and they moved into a different room. I was disappointed, because I was pretty proud of my ambush-counterattack strategy, but we stormed into the other room to satisfy my kids' longing for revenge. Isaac's cabin was quick to react, though, fending off our forces. I called for a retreat, and we fled back to our room, waking up the other cabin on our floor. I've decided that military strategist is not a career I should pursue.
Also, there were a few fantastic quotes by kids from the weekend. These two are the best. The first is taken way out of context, so don't judge me or my fellow counselors.
"Somebody please kill me!"
"Nobody step on my sweatshirt! My glasses are in there and they are doing some funky things."
Monday, March 26, 2012
Nostalgia Gland
I'd be lying if I said there was a time this school year where I didn't miss camp and all my camp friends. However, now that the school year is winding down (only 15 days of classes left, but who's counting?), I find myself practically giddy at the thought of returning to camp. I realize that reliving all of the moments that made last summer's camp so great during this summer is unrealistic, but I anticipate new great moments this summer. There are some particular events, though, that have been tickling my nostalgia gland as of late (the nostalgia gland is a very real body organ. It's located near the gall bladder and secretes nostalgialymine, which, obviously, causes nostalgia).
For instance, hiding out in the kitchen's fridge on especially hot days. This happened a lot of times, on any day of the week. During quick dip (a free time for the kids in the evening) was the most common time for me, among other counselors and staff, to venture in to the fridge. On one day in particular, there were a few of us in the fridge - Stever, Rae, Kiana, and myself, I believe - and we were hungry. It just so happened that there were also cookies in the fridge. We started eating cookies, except Rachel because she was doing some crazy thing where she cut out all sweets from her diet. A surprising amount of counselors did this during the summer, which just meant more for me, so I could dig it. Whilst eating a cookie, I remembered there was some left over frosting in the fridge, too. I found it, spread some on my cookie, and almost cried happy tears (I've never actually cried happy tears, but this is the closest I ever got). This was enough to convince Rae to make a one-time exception to her no-sweets rule, and I guarantee she does not regret it. No, really, she said that was one of her favorite moments of camp. That's how good the frosting was.
Another event is a recurring event. Before I say what it was, you have to promise not to judge me. Promise? Okay. The recurring event was lying to the campers. Not a week went by where I didn't fabricate something ridiculous, and the kids just ate it up every time. I'm not the only one who did this, by the way - it was fairly common. No big lies, though, don't worry. For example, one counselor, Kaia, and myself would tell the kids that we were married. They believed it every single time. I'm pretty sure the rest of the staff got pretty sick of this one, because we were "married" every week, and were believable enough to convince 10 year olds we were actually married. My favorite lie ever, though, was when I convinced my cabin I used to play in the NBA. Basketball is a common free time game - specifically the basketball game of "Lightning." One day, I was unbeatable. Actually, most days I was unbeatable. One day in particular, though, I was on fire (not literally) and one of my campers said something like, "Joe, you never lose!" I laughed and said, "Well I'd hope not! A former NBA player shouldn't be losing games of lightning!" His mouth dropped, but he didn't quite believe me.
"You didn't play in the NBA!"
"Yes I did."
"Oh, yeah? Who did you play for?"
"...The Milwaukee Bucks." That was the most random team I could think of.
"Really?! How long ago? I've never heard of you in the NBA before."
"Oh, yeah, ummm, let's see here. My rookie season was '96. I only played for four years, though."
"'96? How old are you?"
"30." The two-fer lie. Classic. During the conversation, I kept shooting hoops and they kept going in, making my claim a little more believable. At this point, the rest of my cabin was gathered around and listening in on the conversation, challenging my "facts." The final story was that I didn't get drafted, but signed with the Bucks. I didn't play very much (I wanted to make it believable more than anything), and that's why I retired after only four seasons. Also, I once challenged Michael Jordan to a game of PIG before a game, but he just laughed at me. I told my cabin he was scared. They totally bought it.
The last event that I'm going to write about (there are so many more, I couldn't possibly cover them all in just one post) is from the last week of camp. My "wife," Kaia, was leaving a few days early to go to some wedding or some other lame excuse. At around 10:30 on Kaia's last night at camp, after I had already declared "light's out" in my cabin, Bjorn, another counselor, knocked on my door.
"Joe," he said. "Put some clothes on and come with me."
"Wha-? Yeah, okay. Be right there." I thought something serious was going on. Bjorn had a very serious tone and an even more serious look on his face. A little panicked, I threw on some clothes real quick-like and hurried out the door. I followed Bjorn for literally about ten feet - from my cabin to the top of the lodge (the top of the lodge is the upstairs to our dining hall). We tried to open the door to the top of the lodge, but it was locked. Bjorn knocked and announced that it was he and I at the door. I heard some whispers, then running. The door burst open and Kaia flew out and landed in my arms. She wanted to say goodbye since she was leaving early the next morning. The whispers I heard were from her and Rae, who was also in the top of the lodge. As the four of us stood there talking, Linnae, the program director, walked by. "Joe," she began to interrogate, "don't you have a cabin to look after?"
"Umm, well, yes. But I mean, it's right there," I pointed to my cabin. "If anything happens, I'd be able to see it."
"Hmm, alright. Have a good night, you guys!" and she walked off.
About two minutes later, we went into the top of the lodge, totally destroying my excuse of being able to see my cabin. In the top of the lodge, all four of us were completely delirious, laughing hysterically at the slightest provocation. For about an hour, we just sat and talked. I also got a face massage, but there was talking during that, too. Eventually, Rae, Kaia, and Bjorn convinced me to go back to my cabin. By 'convinced' I mean 'forced.' That was probably a good idea, though.
For instance, hiding out in the kitchen's fridge on especially hot days. This happened a lot of times, on any day of the week. During quick dip (a free time for the kids in the evening) was the most common time for me, among other counselors and staff, to venture in to the fridge. On one day in particular, there were a few of us in the fridge - Stever, Rae, Kiana, and myself, I believe - and we were hungry. It just so happened that there were also cookies in the fridge. We started eating cookies, except Rachel because she was doing some crazy thing where she cut out all sweets from her diet. A surprising amount of counselors did this during the summer, which just meant more for me, so I could dig it. Whilst eating a cookie, I remembered there was some left over frosting in the fridge, too. I found it, spread some on my cookie, and almost cried happy tears (I've never actually cried happy tears, but this is the closest I ever got). This was enough to convince Rae to make a one-time exception to her no-sweets rule, and I guarantee she does not regret it. No, really, she said that was one of her favorite moments of camp. That's how good the frosting was.
Another event is a recurring event. Before I say what it was, you have to promise not to judge me. Promise? Okay. The recurring event was lying to the campers. Not a week went by where I didn't fabricate something ridiculous, and the kids just ate it up every time. I'm not the only one who did this, by the way - it was fairly common. No big lies, though, don't worry. For example, one counselor, Kaia, and myself would tell the kids that we were married. They believed it every single time. I'm pretty sure the rest of the staff got pretty sick of this one, because we were "married" every week, and were believable enough to convince 10 year olds we were actually married. My favorite lie ever, though, was when I convinced my cabin I used to play in the NBA. Basketball is a common free time game - specifically the basketball game of "Lightning." One day, I was unbeatable. Actually, most days I was unbeatable. One day in particular, though, I was on fire (not literally) and one of my campers said something like, "Joe, you never lose!" I laughed and said, "Well I'd hope not! A former NBA player shouldn't be losing games of lightning!" His mouth dropped, but he didn't quite believe me.
"You didn't play in the NBA!"
"Yes I did."
"Oh, yeah? Who did you play for?"
"...The Milwaukee Bucks." That was the most random team I could think of.
"Really?! How long ago? I've never heard of you in the NBA before."
"Oh, yeah, ummm, let's see here. My rookie season was '96. I only played for four years, though."
"'96? How old are you?"
"30." The two-fer lie. Classic. During the conversation, I kept shooting hoops and they kept going in, making my claim a little more believable. At this point, the rest of my cabin was gathered around and listening in on the conversation, challenging my "facts." The final story was that I didn't get drafted, but signed with the Bucks. I didn't play very much (I wanted to make it believable more than anything), and that's why I retired after only four seasons. Also, I once challenged Michael Jordan to a game of PIG before a game, but he just laughed at me. I told my cabin he was scared. They totally bought it.
The last event that I'm going to write about (there are so many more, I couldn't possibly cover them all in just one post) is from the last week of camp. My "wife," Kaia, was leaving a few days early to go to some wedding or some other lame excuse. At around 10:30 on Kaia's last night at camp, after I had already declared "light's out" in my cabin, Bjorn, another counselor, knocked on my door.
"Joe," he said. "Put some clothes on and come with me."
"Wha-? Yeah, okay. Be right there." I thought something serious was going on. Bjorn had a very serious tone and an even more serious look on his face. A little panicked, I threw on some clothes real quick-like and hurried out the door. I followed Bjorn for literally about ten feet - from my cabin to the top of the lodge (the top of the lodge is the upstairs to our dining hall). We tried to open the door to the top of the lodge, but it was locked. Bjorn knocked and announced that it was he and I at the door. I heard some whispers, then running. The door burst open and Kaia flew out and landed in my arms. She wanted to say goodbye since she was leaving early the next morning. The whispers I heard were from her and Rae, who was also in the top of the lodge. As the four of us stood there talking, Linnae, the program director, walked by. "Joe," she began to interrogate, "don't you have a cabin to look after?"
"Umm, well, yes. But I mean, it's right there," I pointed to my cabin. "If anything happens, I'd be able to see it."
"Hmm, alright. Have a good night, you guys!" and she walked off.
About two minutes later, we went into the top of the lodge, totally destroying my excuse of being able to see my cabin. In the top of the lodge, all four of us were completely delirious, laughing hysterically at the slightest provocation. For about an hour, we just sat and talked. I also got a face massage, but there was talking during that, too. Eventually, Rae, Kaia, and Bjorn convinced me to go back to my cabin. By 'convinced' I mean 'forced.' That was probably a good idea, though.
Sunday, March 25, 2012
Comin' In Hot
I've heard that when someone has nothing about which to talk they often talk about the weather. Guess what, you guys - this post is about weather. I'm actually a little ashamed that I'm writing a post about weather considering how agitated I become when I see a simple Facebook status about the weather. I have legitimate concerns about the potential weather this summer, though, and I feel like I just need to vent.
As most of you who live in the Midwest have noticed, the weather this winter was very unusual. I'm pretty sure there were exactly zero -20° days. Honestly, I'm not sure if it ever went below zero. What? Crazy, right? Well, brace yourselves, it gets crazier. In March, we reached 80° a couple of times. 80 degrees. That's borderline hot. That got me thinking - if it was this warm in March, how hot is it going to be in July, when I'm at camp with no air conditioning and fans that are defunct at best? With children that will complain about the heat almost as much as I will?Okay, not even almost as much as I will, but they'll complain in high pitched voices because they're little kids, and that's just annoying. Sure, camp is located on the shores of a lake, but you can't sleep in a lake, can't hold Bible study in a lake (I'm not sure about that, actually. I think I'll have to ask about that), can't eat meals in a lake, can't play whoop-whoop in a lake (whoop-whoop is a camp game. The best game. Don't tell me bonkers is better, camp folk, we all know whoop-whoop is where it's at), and you can't beat all the campers at lightening (the basketball game) in a lake.
Seriously, though. Usually, it's like 10° in March. I'm no mathematician, but I'm pretty sure 80° is eight times as hot. So, if it's usually 100° in July, that means it'll probably be 800°. 800 degrees! We'll all die!
Knowing full well that I will die this summer, I can still say, with confidence, that I have never been more excited for a summer in my life.
That can be taken cynically (I'm excited to die) or hopeful (it'll be worth dying over, given how fantastic this summer will be). I'll give you a hint as to which one it is - it's the second one.
As most of you who live in the Midwest have noticed, the weather this winter was very unusual. I'm pretty sure there were exactly zero -20° days. Honestly, I'm not sure if it ever went below zero. What? Crazy, right? Well, brace yourselves, it gets crazier. In March, we reached 80° a couple of times. 80 degrees. That's borderline hot. That got me thinking - if it was this warm in March, how hot is it going to be in July, when I'm at camp with no air conditioning and fans that are defunct at best? With children that will complain about the heat almost as much as I will?Okay, not even almost as much as I will, but they'll complain in high pitched voices because they're little kids, and that's just annoying. Sure, camp is located on the shores of a lake, but you can't sleep in a lake, can't hold Bible study in a lake (I'm not sure about that, actually. I think I'll have to ask about that), can't eat meals in a lake, can't play whoop-whoop in a lake (whoop-whoop is a camp game. The best game. Don't tell me bonkers is better, camp folk, we all know whoop-whoop is where it's at), and you can't beat all the campers at lightening (the basketball game) in a lake.
Seriously, though. Usually, it's like 10° in March. I'm no mathematician, but I'm pretty sure 80° is eight times as hot. So, if it's usually 100° in July, that means it'll probably be 800°. 800 degrees! We'll all die!
Knowing full well that I will die this summer, I can still say, with confidence, that I have never been more excited for a summer in my life.
That can be taken cynically (I'm excited to die) or hopeful (it'll be worth dying over, given how fantastic this summer will be). I'll give you a hint as to which one it is - it's the second one.
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