What Camp Means

A little over an hour ago, I arrived at the happiest place on earth. For those of you who might be mistaken about where the happiest place on earth is, it is not Disney. It is Camp. This will be my third summer here and while this one is a bit shorter than the others I am determined to make up for the length with most exciting adventures and happy memories. 

Strictly speaking, this post is not about my class but you’re going to read about it anyway, right? Honestly, more than almost any other experience in my life, camp has prepared me to be a teacher. I have always had the ability to teach. I tutored and helped others in school. I could do the explaining part. 

The hard part of teaching is not the actual teaching. It is the patience and love that are important. Camp was where I actually figured out that love is shown in a lot of different ways. Some people argue, some hug, some lick the back of your arm from your elbow to your shoulder. But love is love. 

Truly, love is something that comes from somewhere your brain cannot possibly touch. Rationality is not really a part of it. Yesterday I finally read the sticky notes my class wrote about me. I haven’t been able to look at them without crying until yesterday. I made it to the second note before I lost it. 

The students had been asked what they liked about me. One student simply said, “she gives me hugs.” He wasn’t the easiest student to love but somewhere inside, like I said, the part of me my brain cannot reach loved him. 

Camp was the place where I realized that part of me existed. I am forever greatful to the people that make that place so special. 


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