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judifilksign Back from camping with the Webelos. While not a natural camper, as a teacher, I do know how to get kids from one place to another and keep them on track during planned activities. Several of the people running the activities for the scouts to earn pins said that I was very helpful, and that our group of several dens was the best-behaved and most on track of the weekend.
Damned by faint praise, indeed.
I remain pleased that the kid who, patently disbelieving in poison plants because he'd never gotten poison ivy before, touched every example of it pointed out to him: each leaf, each fuzzy vine, each greenish-white berry was starting to itch and get a reaction. The forester, other boys, I, and his leaders all clearly warned him and asked him to stop no fewer than five times. I did also point out the behavior to his leaders when he started chasing others with his hands full of the leaves, who prevented him from touching anyone else, and got him to the first aid station, who got him to the showers with lots of liquid soap. We call this "natural consequences," kid.
Irish was called "an ideal camper" by staff. He, at least had a wonderful time nearly every second, and kept thanking me for bringing him all weekend. I think Irish is pretty observant; his thanks often coincided with times I was not really enjoying myself and was longing to be gone. The other boys in our group actually listened to me all of the time, and obeyed me pretty instantly every time. I don't think that they thought I was as fun as a couple of the other leaders, though. (And I wasn't.) I remain somewhat amazed that the boys did obey me so well; it never actually works that way at my behaviour treatment facility...
I was jealous of my son's ability to fall instantly, and completely asleep. I had to chase other campers off of him at night, because he would fall asleep earlier than anyone else, and they kept poking him, and raising and dropping his arms without him stirring. They wondered if he was faking or not. I think that Irish had better beware in the future where he falls asleep, or he shall wake up shaven, or with magic marker messages all over him.
Our den's skit went well on Saturday night. We actually practised it in the ampitheatre, and I had the boys shout out their lines. "If you can't hear the echo, you aren't loud enough," I told them. They bawled out their lines like drill sergeants, and got big laughs.
Up at the crack of dawn, we got our area cleaned up and hiked up to the parking lot with all of our gear in one trip. Faced with hiking back to the mess hall, Irish actually elected to just get in the car and go. There was ice on the windshield to chip away, and then we were gone into the morning mists. I drove a way home I thought might get me home more directly, and I was right, and got home twenty minutes faster than it took to get there by major highways. (No, I did not speed...)
Once home, my husband graciously let me go back to sleep for awhile, which I desperately needed. I also got a desperately needed shower, and chicken noodle soup. My cold is no better, but no worse for being outdoors all weekend in cold that put frost on the grass, and misted our breaths wherever we went.
Damned by faint praise, indeed.
I remain pleased that the kid who, patently disbelieving in poison plants because he'd never gotten poison ivy before, touched every example of it pointed out to him: each leaf, each fuzzy vine, each greenish-white berry was starting to itch and get a reaction. The forester, other boys, I, and his leaders all clearly warned him and asked him to stop no fewer than five times. I did also point out the behavior to his leaders when he started chasing others with his hands full of the leaves, who prevented him from touching anyone else, and got him to the first aid station, who got him to the showers with lots of liquid soap. We call this "natural consequences," kid.
Irish was called "an ideal camper" by staff. He, at least had a wonderful time nearly every second, and kept thanking me for bringing him all weekend. I think Irish is pretty observant; his thanks often coincided with times I was not really enjoying myself and was longing to be gone. The other boys in our group actually listened to me all of the time, and obeyed me pretty instantly every time. I don't think that they thought I was as fun as a couple of the other leaders, though. (And I wasn't.) I remain somewhat amazed that the boys did obey me so well; it never actually works that way at my behaviour treatment facility...
I was jealous of my son's ability to fall instantly, and completely asleep. I had to chase other campers off of him at night, because he would fall asleep earlier than anyone else, and they kept poking him, and raising and dropping his arms without him stirring. They wondered if he was faking or not. I think that Irish had better beware in the future where he falls asleep, or he shall wake up shaven, or with magic marker messages all over him.
Our den's skit went well on Saturday night. We actually practised it in the ampitheatre, and I had the boys shout out their lines. "If you can't hear the echo, you aren't loud enough," I told them. They bawled out their lines like drill sergeants, and got big laughs.
Up at the crack of dawn, we got our area cleaned up and hiked up to the parking lot with all of our gear in one trip. Faced with hiking back to the mess hall, Irish actually elected to just get in the car and go. There was ice on the windshield to chip away, and then we were gone into the morning mists. I drove a way home I thought might get me home more directly, and I was right, and got home twenty minutes faster than it took to get there by major highways. (No, I did not speed...)
Once home, my husband graciously let me go back to sleep for awhile, which I desperately needed. I also got a desperately needed shower, and chicken noodle soup. My cold is no better, but no worse for being outdoors all weekend in cold that put frost on the grass, and misted our breaths wherever we went.
