Wimp No More - counselor uses childhood experience to encourage camper - Brief Article

My old swimming goggles fit perfectly on the thin cross section of birch. It made a handsome trophy, one befitting the courage Andrew had shown when he swam across the swimming area by himself. I held the goggles in place until the wood glue dried.

Andrew was a wimp. He knew it. I knew it. The rest of the campers knew it. Andrew perched on the edge of the dock and half the period passed before he even attempted entry into the water. "Too cold," he always said, wrapping his arms around a wiry, thin frame. His glasses fogged with nervous energy.

I did not, however, tolerate the sometimes cruel jabs by his fellow campers. I could not because I was a counselor, duty bound to protect my campers from such cruelty and to teach lessons about living in community. But I was also reliving my days at YMCA camp.

As a young camper, I grabbed the metal dock support because it was warm from the summer sun. I hugged it tightly hoping to absorb just a few degrees of warmth. By clinging to the poles, I managed to hoist most of my body out of the dark water. The instructor literally peeled me off the pole one finger at a time. "To the buoy and back," she encouraged and tossed me into the water.

When I got to the buoy, I hung on for dear life. "The waves," I shouted over the perfectly still water.

"Come on back," she encouraged. I could see the other kids snickering in the background, but my instructor ignored them. "You can do it," she said looking at me as if I was the only person who had ever attempted this feat of raw courage.

I splashed my way back to the dock and clung to the pole again.

On the final day of camp, I got a button and a card with the Red Cross logo officially declaring me a beginning swimmer. I was thrilled and returned each summer with the hope of gaining the next level and recalling my blonde-haried instructor who reminded me that I could do it. More importantly, I gained confidence and a skill that opened the whole waterfront to me.

Now, as I nudged Andrew down the wooden stairs and into the water, I felt a pleasant sensation of d[acute{e}]j[grave{a}] vu. What had been given me, I was now giving back -- not just the skill but the confidence, the poise, and the self-assurance.

This "camp effect" works exponentially. Each camper who leaves with a newfound mastery passes it on to someone else -- often at camp as a counselor. The "camp effect" is not, however, limited to the confines of a camp. It often appears as a father to a child, a coach to a team, or a teacher to a student. Almost anyone who has been to camp will attribute part of their desire to make a child feel good to an experience at summer camp.

As I handed Andrew the trophy, I could read the expression on his face -- wimp no more. It was a feeling I well recall and was happy to pass on.

Matthew J. Miller spent several years working as a counselor, waterfront director, and program director at summer camps. He is currently a federal law enforcement officer living in Sioux Falls, South Dakota.

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