One of the rights of passage in schools is the science camp experience. Mind you, not for me. I had no idea such things existed until I became a teacher. I can’t even claim it’s the last 20 years because I hear people talk about how great their experience was 30 years ago. I just missed some boat.
Which is fine for me. I honestly don’t love nature. I mean, I like plants. I find flowers pretty. I can dig hanging out at the ocean. I love the oxygen nature supplies, but I don’t really want to “commune” with nature. I feel no need to be in it for hours at a time. I prefer society.
Even as a teacher, I didn’t want to go to science camp. The other teachers at the school were amazed. Why? Because it’s like a week off work in most cases. You do some supervision, you can hang out with your class if you like, there are responsibilities, but for the most part you are free to do what you want.
What I want is to sit on my butt watching TV and playing with the computer — WiFi please.
Now Taed has a much better attitude towards all experiences, and he was a Boy Scout growing up (he achieved Eagle Scout status). He’s much more positive about nature and will push us to experience it. I think he camped fairly often as a child, AND he attended science camp in 6th grade.
Wouldn’t you know that Keb inherited my attitude? I’m sure being assigned to the “girl” side of the bus didn’t start it right. He didn’t pick his cabin mate well, and declared him and “a**hole.” He disliked his field leader because he was often admonished for talking. He was offended that he didn’t get a 4-Cs award (we asked him if attitude was a judging criteria!); although, he said he was very nice and very enthusiastic for the first day. Whatever happened to dampen his spirit sucked the joy out of his experience. He didn’t recover the rest of the week.
I asked him if he remembered the purpose of going. He said he was told it would be “fun and educational”, but that it was neither. He said he would have rather been at school. Unfortunately, I tend to agree. What’s weird, though, is that I don’t express these thoughts, and he still seems to know them.
It’s usually like father, like son. In this case though…
That poor kid!