Young Writers in the Not-So-Wild

When friends of mine asked me if I would be interested in helping out with summer camp I believe my exact words were, "Fuck no." But I hadn't understood. Where I had visions of hiking until I cry and eating Clif Bars they had intentions of black-and-white composition notebooks and brainstorming sessions. My friends were talking about summer camp for high school writers, which includes air conditioning and daily access to showers. And since all they wanted me to do was lead morning writing exercises, I didn't even have to live on campus. I just had to show up and attempt to generate some writing-related enthusiasm. Once I clarified that morning exercises did not include any actual athleticism I decided it would be great fun. Today was Day Two at camp. I'm happy to say it's been the highpoint of my summer. (Though those strappy sandals I bought on sale were pretty thrilling.)

These kids have come to UNCW from all over the state. One camper came all the way from Colorado. They're learning about the writing life and how to workshop from the counselors who spend all day and night with them. I come in just after their breakfast of fat, sugar and caffeine and warm up their brains with quirky, no-pressure writing exercises. Yesterday, I had the students write about themselves as their superhero selves and begin a creation myth type autobiography. I revealed that I myself am a superhero, which I thought they took fairly well since I told them my weapons were humor and aromatherapy.  We also wrote a list entitled 26 Things You Should Know About Me. I read my list first. One of the campers then read his list, which contained this item: I don't like prissy people. He looked directly at me and paused after he said it. It's possible that I talked about my hair conditioner more than was necessary.

The point is that I'm having a great time working with high school students. Compared to undergrads, they talk a lot more while I'm trying to talk. But they laugh more easily, and they seem more willing to reveal themselves to the group. Many of them probably don't fit in at their high schools because they read books voluntarily and want to try to write them. They are happy to meet grown up versions of themselves. People who once dyed their hair burgundy as I told them I used to do. I nodded my head. "Yeah, I even had a shaved head for a while." Their eyes popped out. I wouldn't say I impressed them or became one of them. (Those days are over anyway.) But I did feel the room settle into a collective She seems okay. High praise from high school writerly campers who are just dipping their toes into their own artistic potential. As for me, I'm blazing a trail in a pair of red flats and lip gloss. That's what I call camping.