Sunday, February 13, 2011

Altered Plans (Post #1)

For the last 10 years, approximately, I've been planning on starting a camp for kids who have been abused. I say "approximately" because it started off as an unrealistic idea, and slowly became my dream. At the time it entered my mind, I was only trying to think of some way to make a career for myself in the camp industry. Most camp jobs are seasonal, but here was an option. The problem was that I knew I didn't have the leadership skills to take the idea seriously. Still, I wished it was possible.

 Before this thought ever came to mind, I had many other ideas. From the time I was 6, until the summer I was 12, I was sure I was going to be a music teacher (or a famous singer). But my mom was always telling me that it was hard to get a job as a music teacher, and that singers don't sign up; they get discovered.

Then when I was 12, we went camping in the Redwoods. I remember my casual, non-serious comment: "Maybe I'll be a park ranger." My dad jumped on the idea. He loves plants, and loved the idea. He, Mom, and I talked about what park rangers do. I was concerned because part of the job is to lead family hikes and activities, but I rationalized that maybe I could just lead kids activities- I didn't want to have to talk to people I didn't know; I never knew what to say, I was often accused by adults of faking sick or lying, and I didn't know how to acknowledge teasing, playfully, so my blank expression was always met with, "She thinks I'm serious!" I wanted to avoid these issues altogether.

Through junior high and high school, I considered other similar possibilities, trying to avoid the idea of human interaction as much as possible. Really, it was animals I liked, so maybe I'd be a vet.... But I would refuse to put animals to sleep. I settled on the idea of moving to Africa and working on a wildlife reservation with rhinos or elephants... and I'd be a missionary on the side (I don't know how I consolidated that with my "minimal human interaction" policy), cause I understood that missionaries were not paid, and had to survive somehow.

I started college, and took biology. One day, a classmate was wearing a camp shirt, and I asked her about it- I'd been to camps and enjoyed them, and I'd been a junior counselor through Girl Scouts, so I was curious. Somehow, our discussion led to her convincing her boss that I would not "fall over" in fear after dealing with the first week of kids- many of whom were coping with being abused. I had worked with one such child as a junior counselor, and she had taken to me strongly, so this piece of information, and my classmate's insistance that I could handle it (despite the first impression during my interview) got me the job. But it was just going to be a summer job. It was a fact that I was moving to Africa to work with animals-and possibly be a missionary.

That first week of camp did not send me running, or make me fall over, but it changed my life entirely.
(to be continued)

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I love comments. It makes me feel like I'm not just talking to a wall, and rids me of the feeling that this time, I said too much, or said something the wrong way.

(I review your comments first, so if you want to say something just to me, just let me know).