An old post I forgot to publish

January 2, 2008
I'm writing this from the comfort of my time-off house located an hour away from the woods. I've gotta preface this post with an apology if my writing is a little awkward. I've been living with 13 year old girls and my vocabulary is suffering as a result.

I've been working for a little over a month and my eyes are widening every day. I work at a co-ed camp where there are 2 girls groups and 3 boys groups, and they aren't allowed to communicate with each other. I've got a group of 11 girls with the youngest being 13 and the oldest 16. Most of them are court ordered. 5 are African American, 4 Caucasian, 2 Latina. Offenses include assault on teachers, drug dealing, and armed robbery. Most came from abusive homes.



There are times when a 9-5 job looks rather attractive, like when I'm chasing girls through the woods in the rain and fog while slipping in mud. It'd be nice to have a job where all disputes were handled professionally... not having to physically restrain anyone and then worry about them swinging punches at me /trying to bite me. If I had a regular 9-5 job, I wouldn't have to worry about waking up to the sound of blood curdling screams because there's boys that snuck into our camp. And it's so dang cold at night. Even as adventurous as I am, I must admit that I sometimes wonder if I'd be better off confined to a cubicle and being a "paper-pusher".

But then there are those few moments that make me feel like I've got the most rewarding job in the world.

• Waking up to a family of deer in my campsite
• I love seeing how impressionable the girls are. I've been crocheting in any spare time I have, and now my girls are too. My girls asked me how my teeth are so white, and I told 'em it's cause I brush 'em twice a day, and now when I brush my teeth all my girls do too (according to my co-chief, this is outrageously unusual)
• Nights when my girls tell me that I'm their inspiration, and that they need me.
• All the little things that my girls do to make me laugh. Like when someone farts, they'll go "ooo check yo' drawers!"

*Due to HIPAA regulations, blogging about my job is kind of a big no-no, so there's only so much I can post.

Sing along for the common people

I came from a privileged background. I had 2 parents who loved me. Who fed me. Who encouraged me to go to school. Who didn't whore me out to people who could hook them up with drugs when I was 9. Who would write me if I was away. Who cared about me. To

I lived in a suburban neighborhood where I never worried about walking around at night. Never worried about getting gang-raped or shot. Never worried if my brothers would make it home okay at night. I've never taken part in armed robbery just so that my brother wouldn't leave my side. I've never had to witness one of my brothers being shot right in front of my eyes.

What am I doing in a job like this? How can I role model for these girls when I have no clue what it's like to grow up in the circumstances they grew up with?

I'll never understand how it feels to live their lives... I can't pretend I never went to school. And I'll never get it right, cause when I'm laying in bed at night watching roaches climb the wall, if I called my dad he could stop it all.

Sometimes I wonder if I'm just singing along for the common people.

With this job, I don't feel like I'm doing anything noble. This doesn't make me a gracious person. I'm only doing it because I've had the luxury of living a privileged life-- where I know what it's like to have somebody love me. To me, this job isn't a noble quest for justice-- it's my social obligation to turn around and show that love and support that I knew growing up to somebody who's never received it.

Lessons down the river of learning

I just got back from my 2 week training for my new job and these are the things I learned:

1. I learned more than I ever wanted to know about gangs. Okay, who am I kidding? The 2 hours spent covering every gang sign, symbol, color, etc. for every gang were a serious highlight. There were hundreds of slides like this one with every different gang sign imaginable. Awesome.


2. I learned all kinds of wicked choke-holds. Well actually (to be politically correct) they're called "restraints".





3. I learned why these "restraints" are necessary through several anecdotes from other chiefs-- numerous stories of fights, my favorite being the time a camper hit a chief in the head with the back of an axe.

4. We learned that when giving someone who has gone into Cardiac Arrest AED, it's not always a good idea to go with the natural nipple line. We had this zany first aid instructor with an accent that sounded like a mix between a deep south carolina, somewhere in scotland, and maybe a hint of swiss... and he couldn't help but make sexual jokes every 3 minutes.


Favorite quotes:
"Put your hear up by their mouth to see if they're still breeding (breathing). My ears are real ticklish. Just ask my wife."
"Now we usually check for the natural nipple line. But what's the problem with this? What if you've got grandma who was a part of the 1960's liberal women's movement... with all the bra burning... now her nipples might not be at her natural nipple line no mo'!"

5. We learned that if anyone ever asked what company we were with, "Mary Kay" (who was also convening at that hotel) was the wisest answer. First, because we didn't want our misbehaviors to reflect poorly on our program. Second, because the looks on peoples faces were priceless when they heard this (nobody in our wilderness therapy program looks like a mary kay representative)



6. I learned that although I might be okay on a surfboard... on a snowboard I am a fish out of water . On our weekend off, a few of us went snowboarding in Boone. I've got a black, blue, purple, (and maybe a hint of green?) rear end to prove that I am not a snowbunny. But that won't keep me from posing with a snowboard like I own the place!


7. I learned that the people who would take this kind of job are some of the coolest, most interesting, and possibly insane people I've ever met.

To William, Nick, and Kyle Mantzel

Always remember there was nothing worth sharing like the love that let us share our name.

a lotta NOT moving (or what it looks like when I get domestic)

Almost six months passed that I'd been home without a "real" job. I DJed a little on the weekends, went out with friends a handful of times, but other than that, what was I doing?

With all this free time, I had the luxury of being able to brush up on some old hobbies, and even take up some new ones. Old hobbies include:
Walking excessively around large bodies of water;
Daily dance party (of one);
Dabbling on any percussive instrument (timpani, marimba, you name it)

A new thing for me is that I've suddenly become super-domestic. Maybe I soaked that in from Samoa's "do-it-yourself"-friendly culture. I'm starting to get really into all things DIY. Anyhoo, I'd been baking something almost every day,


...and then I'd go work on some other project... like sewing a coverlet for my mom's bed, knitting a scarf, or making dresses and skirts...



But the true spawn of my creative energy has been...
MY QUILT!


I've been working hard on this for the past month and a half. I made it out of the lavalavas I wore when I was in Samoa. Each piece of fabric is loaded with memories of the people who gave them to me.

fale

The yellow fabric is from the very first lavalava I bought on my very first drop off. I was so nervous to ask the woman for directions that I bought the lavalava first to make small talk.
The red fabric was given to me AND my other palagi friend by our host mom in American Samoa. She was so cute... and was so excited to send Laura and I to school in matching lavalavas. I also soiled this when I fell into a pool of standing water and re-opened the wound of my infected hand.

Palm Tree

The army green fabric was given to me by the people at Safua
The blue fabric is a lavalava I made in American Samoa.

Fish

Recognize the purple fabric?
Or the fish?

Okay, and this one's a little tricky... but see if you can guess what it is before clicking the link afterwards...


If you've lived in Samoa, you should recognize this instantly. If not, click here. I included this patch because to me, this is the epitome of communalism in Samoan culture.


Even after washing all these, my quilt still smells like 100% DEET. And if there's one thing that can instantly trigger a vast array of emotions and memories I had when I was in Samoa, it's the smell of 100% DEET.

Ia lafoia i le alogalu
This is a Samoan proverb, which basically means may you overcome any challenges you face. But it literally translates to "may you be tossed into the lagoon-side of the wave". The saying refers to a boat trying to enter the lagoon through a narrow passage in the reef. It's a complicated thing to maneuver, but success through such a procedure makes it all worthwhile.

Anyway, I think living at home with nothing to do but make quilts and cupcakes was a difficult point in my life. I mean, I'm glad I have a really cool quilt now, but that's only because I was going insane before with nothing to do. So I'm writing this now so that when the going gets tough with this new job, this quilt can serve as a reminder to me that I could be staying at home with nothing to do but making quilts and playing copious amounts of spider solitaire.

Did you know that some sharks will die if they stop swimming? Just saying.