What is a Camp Counselor?
Somewhere between adolescence and adulthood there occurs in human development an age which is physically and psychologically impossible. It is that unfathomable stage known as the camp counselor, a creature undefined by psychologists, misunderstood by camp directors, worshipped by campers, either admired or doubted by parents and unheard of by the rest of society.
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Camp counselor, n.
A camp counselor is a rare combination of doctor, Indian, and chief. She is a competent child psychologist with a sophomore textbook as proof. She is an underpaid baby-sitter with neither television nor a refrigerator. She is a strict disciplinarian with a twinkle in her eye; a minister to all faiths with questions about their own. She is a referee, a coach, a teacher, and an advisor. She is the example of adulthood in worn-out tennis shoes, a sweat shirt two sizes too large and a hat two sizes too small. She is a humorist in a crisis, a doctor in an emergency, a song leader, an entertainor, and a play director. She is an idol with their head in a cloud of wood smoke and their feet in the mud. She is a comforter in a leaky tent on a cold night and a pal who has just loaned someone her last pair of dry socks. She is a teacher of the outdoors, knee-deep in poison ivy.
Counselors dislike reveille, waiting in line, inspection, and rainy days. They are fond of sunbathing, exploring, teaching new games, an old car named Henrietta, and days off. They are handy for patching up broken friendships, bloody noses, and torn jeans. They are good at locating lost bathing suits, fixing ax handles, playing the fluke, and catching fish. They are poor at crawling out on rainy mornings, remembering the salt, and getting to bed early.
A counselor is a friendly guide in the middle of a cold, dark, rainy night on the long winding trail to the latrine. She is a dynamo on a day off, exhausted the next day, but recuperated in time for the next day off.
Who but a counselor can cure homesickness, air out wet bedding, play 16 games of Lummi sticks in succession, whistle "Dixie" through her fingers, carry two packs, speak Pig Latin in French, stand on her hands, sing 37 verses of "You Can't Get to Heaven", and eat four helpings of Sunday dinner?
A counselor is expected to repair 10 years of damage to Tammy in 10 days, make Jim into a man, rehabilitate Gail, allow Joe to be an individual and help Wendy adjust to the group. She is expected to lead the most prized possessions of 16 adults much older than her. She is expected to lead them in fun and adventure even when her head aches; to teach them to live outdoors even though she spends nine months of a year in a city; to teach indigenous activities when she can't even spell it; to guide them in social-adjustment when she hasn't even reached the voting age; to ensure safety and health with a sunburned nose, a Band-Aid on her thumb, and a blister on her heel.
For all this, she is paid enough to buy the second text in psychology, some aspirin, some new socks, two tires for Henrietta, and some new tennis shoes. You wonder how she can stand the pace and the pressure. You wonder if she really knows how much she is worth, and somehow, you realize you can never pay her enough when, as you leave, she smiles and says, "See ya next year!"
- Phillis Ford
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