After a week of work, I have made a few observations...
School never prepared me for the workforce.
Sure, I can solve some algebra equations, write a 4 000 word essay on the importance of SPAM during the Second World War, and even recite to you in detail 20 steps in cell respiration - but I walked out of high school not knowing how to write a resume. IB helped me talk and write like a little British kid (because who likes to grade American papers?), but I was never coached in the art of the job interview. I can wield around my over-sized graphing calculator, but I am clueless in how to file my own taxes. I am well versed in the top 2 000 most frequent SAT words, but I do not speak the vocabulary of the IRS. The school system that was intended to prepare myself and my peers for our future careers did well to prepare us for college, but little to help us get a side job to pay for it.
"Success" isn't measured by grade point averages.
I like to have my ducks in a row. Actually, that's an understatement - I need to have my ducks in a row, and everybody else's, too. To me, having a "successful" day of camp was ensure that everyone, from four years old to fourteen, sat silently while the teachers taught and played fairly with complete participation in all activities. Shut the front door - it will never happen, and I need to be okay with that. I work with another counselor who is training to be a teacher. Frazzled and distressed, I told him I felt like I was fighting for the kids' attention all day and could not complete a single activity. He looked at me and goes "You know they're 7 and 8, right? It comes with the age."
Turns out that some things do need to be nit-picked. The attendance book must be perfectly kept - or we lose kids. Bullying must be nipped in the bud - or it spreads. Yet other things, if I can manage a 50%, then I have reached my "pass rate". While reading a story, I do not need every single kid to have his eyes glued on me. When I give directions, I cannot demand that thirty second graders sit up straight with their mouths closed and ears open. The ones that do not listen will quickly learn that they cannot play the game. As long as I have some of their attention, I have succeeded.
I am blessed with a healthy body.
We have a lot of special needs children at camp on (so the rumour is) government grants and scholarships. I noticed quickly that I felt as though we had a higher rate of Autistic-like social skills, ADHD, health problems, and more. I saw my first seizure today, but did not recognize it as such. Lining up outside, I saw the girl suddenly take on a panic-stricken face then burst out crying, shaking slightly from what I thought was crying. I asked her what was wrong but she could not speak. I wanted her to sit to prevent a fall and radio for help on the walkie-talkie. Her usual counselor approached me and said she was okay, that his happens several times a day. He held her close to him both to comfort her and make sure she didn't fall. It passed quickly, and she went off to play like nothing happened. I have another girl with birth defects due to drugs en utero. Several children are clearly developmentally challenged and are mocked by some of the others. Praise God, I have been given such a healthy body.
Kids demand justice, not vengeance.
Now that it's the second week of camp, I am flagging kids away at the first sign of trivial tattling. I am starting to think now that these kids are not necessarily coming to me in order to get their classmate in trouble. Rather, they are demanding from me that I enforce the rules. I need to be the person that I said I would be; on day one, we went over the rules together, and I instituted myself as the enforce of these rules in order to protect them. When the kids see that I am not living up to this standard, they demand that I step up my game. All of the students understand that the purpose of the rules is to keep them safe - although it is obnoxious sometimes, they think they're helping me.
Kids don't have the same priorities as us - and rightly so.
When you don't have cell phone bills, student loans, or a never-ending TDL, obeying the laws of Four Square is important. Being Head Lord of the Playground is a right reserved only for the elite. Being Line Leader is empowering. Fighting over holding the door open for the class is an attempt to win approval from the teacher. Right now, that is what their life centers on - winning approval from themselves, their peers, and their leaders in order to establish confidence in themselves. I just wish it did not involve constant bickering over who is "out".
Me throwing a temper tantrum is really me saying "I need some structure".
I quickly realized by day two or three of camp that my kids were beat... which led to crankiness. After running hard nonstop, they needed some time to cool off and become grounded again, realize that they were in fact in a public facility. Since then, my group has implemented daily quiet time, usually involving some quiet coloring while I read a story. Not all of the kids listen and not all of the kids color - and this, I have come to accept, is just fine.
Health and safety practices are constantly changing. Go with your best instinct.
I am officially CPR, First Aid, and AED certified (praying I never have to use my skills). During my horribly long class, I asked about the old "arms up!" mantra that I remember being used on me as a child, and I have since then passed on to kids I babysit. The instructor smiled; she too had used the advice given during the 80s and 90s with her own children. However, it is not advisable that you instead, encourage the child to continue coughing and if necessary, help by beating on their back a bit to force the object out. Raising your arms does increase your lung capacity, but also decreases the force with which you can cough. Having a larger lung volume is great, yet useless if air cannot even enter due to a blockage. This, along with the Heimlich, pressure points, tourniquets, the "ten-ten" method of CPR, sucking venom, and countless other first aid techniques are outdated. This reinforces my theory that "modern medicine" is actually still barbaric, and we are really just guessing.
Unstructured play is really actually structured.
There is a lot going on in those pretty little heads when they are given the freedom to play. Leadership qualities are developed. Hula hoops become igloos and spaceships (no, really, it takes 5 hoops to make an igloo, and it is rather impressive). Levels of hierarchy are tested. Kids learn how to share and resolve conflict without being forced to do so. They are free to make and agree on their own rules, negotiate, and be creative.
