Camp
reflection
Hand Holding & Bracelets
I started out this week on a lower note than usual. The kids were bothering me, I didn't sleep well the night before, and I couldn't seem to connect with any of the kids. Over the years that I have worked at camp, I've become less inclined to pick them up, let them sit on my lap, or give them piggy back rides. Some of my campers from past years still try to climb all over me, which reminds me that I don't let my current campers do that. At the start of the week, I wondered if that was a part of the reason I wasn't connecting on a deeper level with some of the kids by now.
After some reflection, I'm seeing that I'm showing my affection in more meaningful ways this year, even if it seems more detached. I let kids hold my hands and do trust falls with me, but I also talk and listen to them. I cheer them on the rock wall and I teach them how to do friendship bracelets (that either end up on the floor or on their wrists). I'm becoming more mature and seeing how relationships are built on more than talking or traditional shows of affection.
This view is something that I want to take with me as I go into my student teaching and the rest of my professional career. During my student aiding sophomore year, I had a tough time connecting with the students. Exhibit A: I saw one of those students this spring. He recognized me, and said something like, “I know you. Where do I know you from?” I was too insecure about my abilities and too aware of my liminal time in the classroom to actually talk to and get to know my students while I was there, and due to that I didn't make an impact on them (also I was pretty inept at the whole teaching thing). Instead I sorted them into archetypes and then wondered why I didn't look forward to teaching like my classmates did.
One of the campers who I talked about in my last post, the one who asked me about my least favorite part of the job, told me that next week is her last week. I'm honestly super bummed because I look forward to hanging out with her, even when she hogs my clipboard and sticks tape in my ears. She said, “It's my last week until next year!” To which I said, “But next year you'll be a cool Giraffe [4th and 5th grade girls] and you won't want to talk to me.” She protested. I don't know why I was self-sabotaging—she was my camper two years ago and we are still friends now. Maybe I keep worrying the worry that kept me from connecting with my aiding students—that time is going to steal my friendships away.
Maybe that's why I'm keeping this blog—so that my professed lack of time (I say “I'm so busy” as I watch 4 seasons of Brooklyn 99 and refuse to call or FaceTime people) won't wither my friendships. At the same time, writing this isn't the same as cultivating friendship face to face. But then again, when I write these posts I feel how I feel when a Gazelle says “I want to learn the double box” after they struggled with a single box two weeks ago. I'm getting more delight out of this than I expected to.
What I'm trying to say is relationships are built on the traditional things like sharing stories and asking questions but also are built in the little moments that we pass by. Thanks for creating and sharing these little moments with me, friends.
Podcast Episodes: Jennifer Elsie Foerster reads from “Coosa” - Poetry Foundation
I loved this episode so much I went to my library website and tried to find Foerster’s book Leaving Tulsa. I had to eventually interlibrary loan it (because only 2 libraries in the Commonwealth of Massachusetts had it), but I currently have it in my hands and I am so pumped. This poem is from the June issue of the Poetry Foundation Magazine which features poets from Native Nations. It’s the first poem read on the podcast that made me scramble to read the actual poetry (well, feel like I want to scramble to read the actual poetry. I had a breakfast to eat and children to attend to later on). The imagery in this poem is so beautiful that it reminds me what poetry is at its heart—beautiful words—and how pretentious it is and how necessary it is.
Hand Transplant, DNA, and a Backwards Heart - The Moth Radio Hour
This one's for you, Ana Bulger.
The main reason I’m recommending this one is the first story. I've become a little obsessed with The Moth because now that I'm not going on runs (whoops) I need podcasts that can be self-contained in 15-25 minutes rather than an hour. The Moth is perfect for that. I listened to this one as I walked to the library to pick up a hold. A scientist relates her research about the theory of a finite universe to her relationship with Warren, a man different from her in every way. It's a love story (I'm a sucker for those), but it's one told through the lens of a scientist. When you subsist on love stories written by sentimentalists, it's nice to hear a real one with a different take.
After some reflection, I'm seeing that I'm showing my affection in more meaningful ways this year, even if it seems more detached. I let kids hold my hands and do trust falls with me, but I also talk and listen to them. I cheer them on the rock wall and I teach them how to do friendship bracelets (that either end up on the floor or on their wrists). I'm becoming more mature and seeing how relationships are built on more than talking or traditional shows of affection.
This view is something that I want to take with me as I go into my student teaching and the rest of my professional career. During my student aiding sophomore year, I had a tough time connecting with the students. Exhibit A: I saw one of those students this spring. He recognized me, and said something like, “I know you. Where do I know you from?” I was too insecure about my abilities and too aware of my liminal time in the classroom to actually talk to and get to know my students while I was there, and due to that I didn't make an impact on them (also I was pretty inept at the whole teaching thing). Instead I sorted them into archetypes and then wondered why I didn't look forward to teaching like my classmates did.
One of the campers who I talked about in my last post, the one who asked me about my least favorite part of the job, told me that next week is her last week. I'm honestly super bummed because I look forward to hanging out with her, even when she hogs my clipboard and sticks tape in my ears. She said, “It's my last week until next year!” To which I said, “But next year you'll be a cool Giraffe [4th and 5th grade girls] and you won't want to talk to me.” She protested. I don't know why I was self-sabotaging—she was my camper two years ago and we are still friends now. Maybe I keep worrying the worry that kept me from connecting with my aiding students—that time is going to steal my friendships away.
Maybe that's why I'm keeping this blog—so that my professed lack of time (I say “I'm so busy” as I watch 4 seasons of Brooklyn 99 and refuse to call or FaceTime people) won't wither my friendships. At the same time, writing this isn't the same as cultivating friendship face to face. But then again, when I write these posts I feel how I feel when a Gazelle says “I want to learn the double box” after they struggled with a single box two weeks ago. I'm getting more delight out of this than I expected to.
What I'm trying to say is relationships are built on the traditional things like sharing stories and asking questions but also are built in the little moments that we pass by. Thanks for creating and sharing these little moments with me, friends.
Podcast Episodes: Jennifer Elsie Foerster reads from “Coosa” - Poetry Foundation
I loved this episode so much I went to my library website and tried to find Foerster’s book Leaving Tulsa. I had to eventually interlibrary loan it (because only 2 libraries in the Commonwealth of Massachusetts had it), but I currently have it in my hands and I am so pumped. This poem is from the June issue of the Poetry Foundation Magazine which features poets from Native Nations. It’s the first poem read on the podcast that made me scramble to read the actual poetry (well, feel like I want to scramble to read the actual poetry. I had a breakfast to eat and children to attend to later on). The imagery in this poem is so beautiful that it reminds me what poetry is at its heart—beautiful words—and how pretentious it is and how necessary it is.
Hand Transplant, DNA, and a Backwards Heart - The Moth Radio Hour
This one's for you, Ana Bulger.
The main reason I’m recommending this one is the first story. I've become a little obsessed with The Moth because now that I'm not going on runs (whoops) I need podcasts that can be self-contained in 15-25 minutes rather than an hour. The Moth is perfect for that. I listened to this one as I walked to the library to pick up a hold. A scientist relates her research about the theory of a finite universe to her relationship with Warren, a man different from her in every way. It's a love story (I'm a sucker for those), but it's one told through the lens of a scientist. When you subsist on love stories written by sentimentalists, it's nice to hear a real one with a different take.
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