i have feelings. feelings sometimes come with a story. like today. it’s about (summercamp)*.
second session, swine flu summer. (for the record, i had to send home 8 out of my 12 kids that session. got some back, but it was still a rough road.)
it was made rougher by the fact that my co had charge of a student who was a bit of a mystery. the only thing we knew about her before camp started was that she was a vegetarian. it became apparent upon meeting her that there was probably more pertinent information to share with us beyond her diet persuasions.
for the record, let me clarify here my eternal frustration with parents who withhold medical information about their children, in an interest to protect their privacy. of all places, would (summercamp) ever treat a child any differently for whatever might make them original? no. therefore, you are doing nothing but harming your child and compromising their well-being even further. because it means we need to play a frantic game of catch-up in what we need to do to make this a safe space for them, and we might not get it right because we don’t have the tools we need.
and so was the case for this child. my co, exasperated by the situation, resulted to yelling and consequences. i basically took over in ra duties for her, but the damage had already been done. she was convinced that she was going to get kicked out of camp for doing something “wrong”. (may i also state here: to the parents who do not give their children awareness of their differing abilities and a way to communicate about them, you are condemning them to a life of dependence. so stop it.) “wrong” counted as anything connected to any one of her many disorders. i spent so much breath trying to tell her that she would never get kicked out, she wasn’t misbehaving, i knew she sometimes forgot where she lived and went into the boys’ dorm for reasons that weren’t her fault.
it was a really tough situation. the staff, not knowing what to do, just figured out what not to do. but the students knew better. so (summercamp) did what (summercamp) does. by the end of 3 weeks, she had friends. she had an act in the talent show. she had individuality.
she was particularly fixated on the song “iris”, a song played every weekend at the dances and holding a lot of emotional importance for (summercamp)ers. on packing day, she was feeling low. she didn’t want to go home, just like everyone else. i told her she could pick the music for the next half hour. she played “iris” on repeat. i blessed the rest of my girls for being so accomodating. they could see it made her happy, and in the way of all (summercamp)ers, that made them happy.
this is a true story. i couldn’t make it up if i wanted to. we were sitting in the hall together. the song was on its 10th or 11th repeat. we heard the lyrics “and i don’t want the world to see me/’cause i don’t think that they’d understand/when everything’s made to be broken/i just want you to know who i am.” she looked up at me with her wide, inquisitive eyes behind thick lenses and said, “this is why i like this song. because that’s me. it’s how i feel and i don’t want to leave because everywhere but here i’ll always be broken. but here i’m okay.” she got up, smiled, walked away.
i ducked in my room, and, quite literally, sobbed for 15 minutes. i do that a lot at (summercamp), duck into corners and quietly sob. i’m surprised more people haven’t noticed. or if they have, thankful that no-one’s drawn attention to it.
on the last day, she asked me to email her a copy of the song. i forgot. i hated myself for it. like, seriously, me. one thing.
next year, thank goodness, she was back for first session. i apologised to her, and she said, with even more pride than she’d left with the year before, that it was fine, she’d downloaded it anyway and she couldn’t wait for the dances. she was blissfully excited for her class and spent the entire summer happy beyond what i could ever wish for her. in fact, when i compare her first summer to her second, the only time i found her in a fit of tears during round two was when she didn’t want to dissect a shark for her class. (in addition to everything else, she was still a vegetarian, and animal rights activist.)
she was nomore-ing out, so she made a speech at the last supper. about how life was like the game. about how everyone was playing it, whether they liked it or not, but you might as well admit to it and start losing. she used losing as a metaphor for turning points. she said she was sad to be losing (summercamp), but she was glad she had played it while the opportunity was there. i sobbed in the corner. the next morning, at passionfruit, she rallied all nerds to fight for their right to be themselves. i sobbed in my lawnchair. (okay, at this point i hadn’t slept in like, 3 days, leave me alone.)
i don’t know where she is now. i wish i did. second session, we did “iris” with the a cappella group. we’d never poured that much blood, sweat, and tears into a song arrangement before, ever. it was for her, and for every other (summercamp)er who needed this place to make them feel okay.
when i sing it i close my eyes sometimes and i see her, at the dances, away from the crowds, sunhat still on her head, swaying and waving her arms to the music. she always did love to dance.
you’re the closest to heaven that i’ll ever be,
and i don’t want to go home right now
*i’m calling it (summercamp) because its name is irrelevant and anyone who knows what i’m talking about will know the name anyway.
