Rocky River Ranch Journey

Tom Chang describes his experiences working at a summer camp as a counselor in the passage, The Playground. Chang arrives at the camp and is very nervous about what is ahead of him. The author describes his apprehension and fears, stating on pages 35-36, "At first I had no idea how to handle routine problems like skinned knees, playground quarrels, and forgotten lunches. "

Summer camp is a tradition that the women in my family have participated in since my mom was a little girl. In the mountains of North Carolina lies a very special place to me, my mom and my little sister. This place is called Camp Glen Arden and it is my home away from home. There are many special traditions within Camp Glen Arden, so that is why I chose it to be the topic of my ethnography.

Life can be pretty stressful, and at times I feel the need to escape. When life’s pressures build to a critical mass my favorite place to go is Collier Township’s Panhandle trail, with its long hiking, and bike riding path, the more secluded hiking trails set deep in the woods, and fossil cliff it’s the ideal place to escape this mad mad world. I begin my journey at the start of the trail that stretches from Pittsburgh to Washington DC. The sound of tiny stones crunch under my feet as I walk, birds fly through a vibrant blue sky, and come to rest perched high in the trees that frame the walking, and bike trail. I continue down the trail for a quarter of a mile reading the small signs placed on the edge of the path set there to inform you of

The three of us would do everything at camp together. On the extensive walks to the camps’ doctor’s office for routine feedings, we would share personal stories unbeknownst to anyone in our lives. I shared my struggle of my camper, Paige, not showing up and how incredibly difficult it was for me to see everyone have someone to share the most life changing week with. Opening up to them in one of the hardest situations I had ever faced was beyond valuable. Through this tough and emotional experience I found myself, but more importantly, God. I had culminated so many new friends

My mom continued driving down the road to the camp. My anxiety got worse as the minutes went by. I kept thinking that things would go wrong. Maybe I would break my phone on accident. Maybe the upperclassmen would be mean.

I take a deep breath and start down the dirt path to where I will live for the next twelve days. The air is crisp, oddly like autumn for an August afternoon. I pull my thin cotton T-shirt closer to my body. I already miss the stifling dry heat. !follow the other two kids and the camp counselor in front of me, trying to avoid turning my ankle on the roots in the path that seem to pop up from nowhere. The boys in front of me don't seem nervous, they're joking with the counselor like they've been friends forever even though they had only just met. I paste a too-stiff smile across my thirteen-year-old cheeks and try to close the distance between myself, the boys, and the counselor. The counselor stops abruptly by a patch of knee-high grass just before a fork in the road and turns to me. I feel my face redden. The counselor is around nineteen years old with curly chestnut hair fashioned in a short haircut that has clearly grown out throughout the long summer months, a stray curl loops around their unpierced ear and rests against their cheek; they have an

I was the only camper in the entire camp; the busses from Chicago didn’t arrive until three in the afternoon. My counselors took me with them to the mess hall where all of these girls on staff were in their Uggs sweatpants and sweatshirts eating breakfast. It’s June, who wears ugg boots in the summer? After hours of sitting on my cold hard mattress on the top bunk, as I wasn’t allowed to unpack until the rest of my cabin arrived, there was an announcement, “Attention all campers and counselors RUN RUN RUN to the top of the hill the busses are almost here!!” I had never seen a more excited group of people in my entire life and I had no clue why. I get to the top of the hill where the counselors are singing at the top of their lungs “we welcome you to Chippewa were mighty glad you’re here” the girls started filing out of the three huge coach busses and tons of hugs were exchanged. There were tears of joy along with sad tears, many squeals and overall just an indescribable vibe. We all made our way to the center fire circle where cabins were announced. I was in the first cabin, the youngest cabin. I gathered with my soon to be best friends and walked back to my cabin. I was looking around, these girls had just spent 6 hours together on the bus and they know each other from home. Are they going to hate me? How do I make friends? These were

My experiences with the Vancouver Chinese Baptist Church children’s summer camp remain one of the most challenging ordeals I have ever encountered. Not only must I wake up daily at an outrageous hour to lift tables and set up the camp, I am obligated to entertain and care for young, hyperactive children for eight hours a day. Quick wits and swift feet are required to keep up with the children, and it is essential to solve problems as soon as they appear. Although I was warned beforehand that the camp would be a long and mentally draining experience, I am not the one to shield away from obstacles – I power on through them. Throughout the four weeks, from handling skinned knees to bawling kids to dealing with inactive participants, I displayed

The week was scorching, even for August, and I had just come back from a relaxing vacation over the weekend. Now band camp was in full motion, and we were trying to squeeze in as many hours of practice before the beginning of school as we possibly could. Being part of the color guard in the Pride of Broken Arrow meant our practices would run from five to eight hours a day. However, it was always a fruitful reward no matter how hard we had to work because of the experiences we were able to gain from it. The route we had to take to gain the memories that was the legitimate challenge.

Finally, the long anticipated 11 months of waiting to return to my second home were over. Ever since I was a child, Heart O the Hills Camp was my safe heaven. One month a year I had the opportunity to grow up making the greatest memories at the most beautiful place in the world. There is no better sight in the world than lying on the warm tennis courts surrounded by my closest friends, gazing at the patterns of the illuminating stars above in the crystal clear, mesmerizing hill country sky. Those tennis courts where my friends and I gathered on almost every night was a symbol my care-free childhood. Having the freedom to do what I wanted, whenever I wanted, with no real consequences was one of the perks of being a camper.

It was a balmy July morning when my family and I drove out to Lycoming College to begin my week at PFEW. An uneasy feeling set in as I realized that I will be surrounded by strangers in an uncommon environment for a whole seven days. Adding onto this stress was the fact that I have never been away from my parents for more than one night. Upon my arrival, all of the camp participants were ushered to a large auditorium and given a welcome presentation. Looking around at all the unfamiliar faces, I felt the urge to call my parents and avoid

As the week progressed and friendships formed between everyone, I realized the importance of the camp to all that were involved. To the counselors it was a learning experience, as well as a time to appreciate all that we would usually take for granted; to the campers it was a time to learn and make new friends, and for most of them, it would also serve as their only form of a summer vacation. So although we were all exhausted by the end of the week, we had a great time.

My final night at French Woods Festival, the arts camp I attended for three summers, my bunk decided to stay up long past our curfew, sitting on the counselor’s bed and reminiscing about how we had spent the prior six weeks, trying not to talk about our separation the next morning. While I sat, laughed, and cried with my surrogate family that night, I was also doing something else; I sat by the dim flashlight, trying to quickly finish a friendship bracelet with a ballet shoe on it before morning came, so that I could give it to my favorite dance teacher.

The year is 2003, I am eight and for half of a year I have lived with my grandmother and my brothers. The school year has just ended and summer has begun. “I’m tired of you kids, you boys have been driving me up the walls and I need a break!” my grandmother said. “You’re going to summer camp!” I had never been camping but that did not stop a smile only a child could have stretch from ear to ear across my little face. With a mouth lacking in front teeth, I screamed, “Yay!” My grandmother had signed us up for the annual boys and girls club summer camping trip, meaning eight weeks of fun under a warm sun at camp Big Silver in the neighboring state, Michigan. I will never forget my first day of summer camp.

This Summer, I had the best time of my life. I learned some valuable lessons, I made some friends, and I had so much fun. Even if I didn’t know it. This is the story of my summer camp experience.