Many of the kids stand out in my memory, but a couple in particular are going to stick with my memories for a very long time. Most of the kids would fade into their groups of friends without making a fuss or standing out too much, but some were uniquely memorable. One boy was somewhat difficult to handle and did not listen very well; at the end of the camp he ended up saying that he doesn’t listen to any women. This moment has been a sad memory, but also an educational one. I was proud when I could handle it completely rationally by telling him that he needs to respect women authority even if he didn’t want to, and I was happy when I didn’t get angry with the kid but I acknowledged that it had to have been something to do with how he was raised.

Another boy was slightly more concerning. This boy started to speak up by telling stories about death and morbidly sad things. He then began speaking of the afterlife and even childbirth. He had strange cuts and scars on his ankles and legs, and one day he picked a scab and began to bleed. When we asked him to clean it up he refused, in which case I had to assist him in cleaning up the blood. When we threw away the paper towel with blood on it, he insisted on keeping it. With my strongest resistance I tried to not allow it, but he grabbed it and ran. I managed to tell the person in charge of the camp, but they didn’t seem too concerned. The following days he brought in dead bugs, and was curious about executions and the death penalty. We managed to talk to the child’s grandmother, but she too didn’t seem concerned.

In either case I feel it was important for me to be exposed to such raw and uncomfortable situations in order to be prepared for anything. I am happy to say I was able to handle myself and reasonably handle the kids in each circumstance to the best of my ability as a counselor.