A few summers ago, I worked as a CIT at a day camp I had attended as a child. You’d think that going to work at a place that was a major part of your childhood would be pretty awesome, but those eight weeks proved to be an utter disaster. I try not to think about it and, so far, I’ve been fairly successful at suppressing those memories.

But this article in the New York Times reminded me of a particularly nasty piece of work I encountered during my counseling duties that summer. She was the mother of two abnormally hyper and mischievous twin boys who I had to supervise on the bus every morning and afternoon. Frankly, the kids were easier to deal with than this woman. She makes the helicopter mothers mentioned in the article appear to be merely “concerned.”

In addition to supervising a group of kids at the camp, my older brother and I were bus counselors on the vehicle that transported campers in our area. Every morning as the bus approached her house, the crazy woman would come outside wearing her pink, flowery robe and greet us with a sickeningly sweet smile, only to go completely apesh*t on us that afternoon. She would yell at us the moment we pulled up, blaming us if she got a call that day from the camp about her devil spawns’ misbehavior.

I’m pretty sure she was bipolar, because one moment she would be calm, and the next she would be screaming like a banshee about how the camp was lying about her boys’ behavior and how we should be fired for not doing our job. She called the camp director just about every day to complain about us and the lousy job the boys’ group counselors were doing. I fought the urge to tell her that her parenting was the problem, not our performance. Read More »

Being a sleepaway camp counselor is nothing like being a camper. If any of you forgot what camp is all about, let me give you a not-so-hypothetical situation:

You’re sitting on the side of the soccer field while the sun is drawing a tan line of your favorite flip flops on your feet. You’re at the front of the massage line (what could be better?) working on your latest pink and purple string friendship bracelet. The heat reminds you to bring your squeeze breeze to the next activity and you cannot wait for rest hour to play spit on your best friend’s top bunk, which, of course, you always win.

Since I arrived at camp, my daily activities have been slightly different. The campers have not arrived yet and my day has run a little something like this:

7:30 AM: Bugle call for wake up
8:00 AM: Breakfast (consisting of a choice of bagel, cereal, sometimes eggs , rarely bacon. Okay, not so bad) Read More »