That is a saying we have here at camp, and it applies to this week for sure. today has been especially bad, which is pretty normal for a day three. There some really interesting stuff about group dynamics, like how the first day the group is "forming", then the next day or two is spent "norming", after which is "storming"... we are definitely at the storming stage. :-P There have been three sobbing emotional breakdowns today, plus a girl saying she was going home which led to the camp director coming to our site. The group dynamics are weird, the kids are emotional, and it's just been a very odd week.
But, this entry is not for that; it's actually to discuss what is one of my favorite moments of the summer so far, and will be something that I remember for a long, long time.
Tonight we had a cook-out dinner with the girls, followed by s'mores. I got the fire going, then once the coals were hot we let the fire break down so we could cook our food. By the end of the s'mores, the fire was almost out. I was letting the girls experiment with the fire a little bit (closely supervised of course), and then they started trying to get it going again, since all the flames were gone and they just had the hot coals. I was about to say no, it was time to go, but the way they were working together caught my attention. The fragmented group dynamics were nowhere to be seen, and the girls were trying their little hearts out to revive the fire. They were brainstorming ideas, cheering each other on, celebrating with each other at the small successes. So I decided to hang back and let them figure it out all by themselves; I didn't give them a single hint of direction. I remembered the huge victory starting my first fire was the other day, and how I was so happy and proud of myself and that excitement lasted all day. I wanted the girls to have that.
And they did! After all their efforts, flames finally flared up with a whoosh, and the girls immediately rejoiced. They kept repeating, "I can't believe we got the fire going again all by ourselves!!!" They were literally dancing with each other, laughing, and celebrating this monumental occasion for them.
We have this song we sing at camp called "Can A Woman?", sung to the tune of "She'll Be Coming Round The Mountain."
Can a woman fly an airplane?
Yes, she can, yes she can!
Can a woman build a building?
Yes, she can, yes she can!
Can a woman fight a fire?
Can a woman change a tire?
Can a woman lead a choir?
Yes she can, yes she can!
Can a woman be a lawyer?
Yes, she can, yes she can!
Can a woman fix an engine?
Yes, she can, yes she can!
Can a woman be a drummer?
Can a woman be a plumber?
Can she play ball in the summer?
Yes, she can, yes she can!
Can a woman be a doctor?
Yes, she can, yes she can!
Can a woman drive a tractor?
Yes, she can, yes she can!
Can a woman lead a nation?
Can she run TV station?
Can she head a corporation?
Yes, she can, yes she can!
Just you wait until we're older
Then you'll see! Then you'll see!!
We'll be women in tomorrow's
History, History!
As we grow up through the years
We'll sing out loud and clear
Can we start the process here?
Yes, we can, yes we can!
They started singing the line "Can a woman build a fire? Yes she can!" They knew the next line, but couldn't remember the rest of the song. So they started making up their own verses. My eleven year old girls were standing around a campfire that they had built, singing at the top of their lungs about all the things a woman can do. I literally got goosebumps. It was surreal, like a moment from a movie, and there was so much emotion and pride welling up in me that I felt like I couldn't contain it. It nearly came out as tears because it had nowhere else to go, it just kept getting bigger.
It was one of my top moments of the summer (only matched by the surprise hug from Mara) and I would say one of the top moments of my adult life. It's one of those experiences that reminds you of your passion for what you do; the thing that gets you through the kid sobbing through the night, or having to jump around and sing camp songs when you're so tired you can barely stand, or refereeing petty arguments that elevate to screaming, all over something as little as a marshmallow-roasting stick (one of the many breakdowns of the day). Every single sleepless night, pang of homesickness, and weeks of working 24 hours a day, every day, with no day off, is worth that moment. I'm extremely grateful that I had a part in it, and that I was there to witness the irreducible beauty of empowered little girls who are learning they can change the world.
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