I never really liked Mate that much; I just learned to not hate it. While most would steep a handful or two of leaf in their enamel ware cup, I refrained to only a few pinches. Mate was considered an ‘acquired taste.’ And one that most students are sorely disappointed with when they finally get home and sample it for themselves. I don’t have any real reasons for drinking it, apart from it being a warm drink that I can sip and a dominate part of the RCA field culture. My favorite cup is the third refill – after the initial bitter is gone and all that’s left is watered down tea leaf.
It was halfway through one of these cups that I started to think about my blog that I had long since abandoned. I listed out in my mind a great deal of contributing factors to my withdrawal of which lack of time was on top. Lodge life was busy as ever and field duties had increased with Head Instructor responsibilities. And – what time I did have available to me was spent resting my feet from waiting tables, preparing my pack for the following week, or socializing with my crews.
Mate is a loose leaf tea grown in South America that is loaded with a whole bunch of nutrients and health promoting stuff – or so they say. All I really know is that it’s loaded with a caffeine like substance that gives me a headache if I don’t delude myself with water... I will soon be looking for a replacement to warm my hands.
Another reason I believe my blogging stopped was simply burnout. Writing became a chore to me. I over obsessed with my entries – trying to account for every adventure and story. I would sit down and write all that I could then list out the remaining stories that I needed to finish. The list kept growing and growing until I was so far behind that there was no hope of ever catching up.
I found out that Darren, my costaff from the SLC area, was keeping a regular blog and posting pictures to let his friends and family read about his adventures in the desert. Darren is a bit older than most staff out in the field, half a century old with a wife and four growing kids. “Musings of a Wandering Man” was his solution to the high demand for wilderness stories. Instead of having to tell and retell about his adventures, he can simply write about them once and then refer everyone to his blog. Prior to jumping on the RCA train, Darren was a newspaper writer/editor for over 15 years, both at the cooperate and private levels. Moving his office into the outdoors was a nice change of pace for him.
I asked Darren what he writes about and how he has time to keep a blog – balancing two jobs while fathering his home. He said that starting out he would add an entry every other day, but soon reduced to three a week. “Sometimes I write about a specific kid and his past story and current progress, and other times I just give a recap of my week. If there isn’t too much going on that I want to write about, then I’ll pull in a story from the past and write about it. But I also take lots of pictures and put two or three with each post.”
I finished my third cup of Mate and pulled out my Steno Book and jotted down a brief list of things that I wanted to write about. I thought I should recap a few things that had happened over the summer – both in the field and at the lodge – covering a few memorable RCA students, a short lived romantic fling, and a couple of fun and crazy adventures. And, to start it all back up I thought I would reintroduce myself into the blogging world by talking about mare, or in Darren’s opinion, a ‘distasteful reentry.’
Friday, October 15, 2010
Friday, July 23, 2010
I seem to be talking more about how I haven't blogged for so long than actually blogging!
A few new stories that i hope to get around to writing are as follows!
Home for Chataqua Weekend!
First shift as H.I. aka Senior Companion! - and barely avoiding major dehydration...
Dying phone replaced with a new one... The Droid Incredible!
Rilen - 4 year old boy who gave me a hug.
A few new stories that i hope to get around to writing are as follows!
Home for Chataqua Weekend!
First shift as H.I. aka Senior Companion! - and barely avoiding major dehydration...
Dying phone replaced with a new one... The Droid Incredible!
Rilen - 4 year old boy who gave me a hug.
Sunday, May 30, 2010
A day in the life of a Pinecone.
A day in the life of a Pinecone
Inspired by Parker Robinson
“I need some pinecone drama…”
Most often my gaze is found set on this soil,
so dark, and soft, and rich, this soil.
The sun heats it all the day to warm me through the night,
and feeds my tall friends to keep them growing up right.
How I long to be planted deep into this ground,
some water from Mother Earth sure to rid me of my frown.
I would send my roots down deep like all healthy trees do,
creating a foundation that would always hold me through.
My trunk upward would grow like a strong center piece,
extending out my branches towards the sun to feast.
Protection is what I’d offer to those all around,
from the harshness of nature, with my roots in the ground.
Calming the winds as they violently pass,
whilst offering shade to those below on the grass.
I’d be a provider, to all those in need,
A patriarch of the forest is what I wish to be.
But instead of the greatness that I was intended for,
I sit on the ground ever wishing for more.
I’ve fallen from my branch where up high I once grew,
to the earth below where I found others here too.
My dream to be planted was put on delay,
when I was kicked to the side walk instead of in clay.
I wish for the soil that will allow me to sprout,
but with each passing day enters only more doubt.
No one cares for a pinecone or the potential within,
so I sit here and rot - wasting life is a sin!
Why can’t it be me that destiny will choose?!
I’ve played my part – I’d never refuse!
Come off your high horse, and help a pinecone in need,
get me off this cement slab and back by my tree!
No longer fertile for time has passed me by,
at least let me decay where I first fell from the sky.
I no longer wish to be kicked all around,
or thrown about by children – just leave me on the ground!
I’m not your toy to be handled this way!
Go find a ball, or some other game to play!
And… though I hate being over looked like this,
I find a simple joy when the schools are dismissed.
For when the kids pass by with grins on their faces,
soon my frown disappears, a smile replaces.
I know that I no longer can become a tree,
all gone unused, the seeds inside of me.
I can however make the best of my badly dealt hand,
even as just a pinecone, stuck here in the sand.
I can appreciate each day that I am still here to see,
sunshine and rain, and the kids that play with me.
At least some purpose, I can manage to fulfill
decorating the park ground, a masterful skill.
Each time the sun fades and the night comes around,
I’ll listen for chirping crickets, and doze off to their sound.
Another day gone by, now some rest for me,
and even if only in my dreams, turn into a pine tree.
Inspired by Parker Robinson
“I need some pinecone drama…”
Most often my gaze is found set on this soil,
so dark, and soft, and rich, this soil.
The sun heats it all the day to warm me through the night,
and feeds my tall friends to keep them growing up right.
How I long to be planted deep into this ground,
some water from Mother Earth sure to rid me of my frown.
I would send my roots down deep like all healthy trees do,
creating a foundation that would always hold me through.
My trunk upward would grow like a strong center piece,
extending out my branches towards the sun to feast.
Protection is what I’d offer to those all around,
from the harshness of nature, with my roots in the ground.
Calming the winds as they violently pass,
whilst offering shade to those below on the grass.
I’d be a provider, to all those in need,
A patriarch of the forest is what I wish to be.
But instead of the greatness that I was intended for,
I sit on the ground ever wishing for more.
I’ve fallen from my branch where up high I once grew,
to the earth below where I found others here too.
My dream to be planted was put on delay,
when I was kicked to the side walk instead of in clay.
I wish for the soil that will allow me to sprout,
but with each passing day enters only more doubt.
No one cares for a pinecone or the potential within,
so I sit here and rot - wasting life is a sin!
Why can’t it be me that destiny will choose?!
I’ve played my part – I’d never refuse!
Come off your high horse, and help a pinecone in need,
get me off this cement slab and back by my tree!
No longer fertile for time has passed me by,
at least let me decay where I first fell from the sky.
I no longer wish to be kicked all around,
or thrown about by children – just leave me on the ground!
I’m not your toy to be handled this way!
Go find a ball, or some other game to play!
And… though I hate being over looked like this,
I find a simple joy when the schools are dismissed.
For when the kids pass by with grins on their faces,
soon my frown disappears, a smile replaces.
I know that I no longer can become a tree,
all gone unused, the seeds inside of me.
I can however make the best of my badly dealt hand,
even as just a pinecone, stuck here in the sand.
I can appreciate each day that I am still here to see,
sunshine and rain, and the kids that play with me.
At least some purpose, I can manage to fulfill
decorating the park ground, a masterful skill.
Each time the sun fades and the night comes around,
I’ll listen for chirping crickets, and doze off to their sound.
Another day gone by, now some rest for me,
and even if only in my dreams, turn into a pine tree.
JL - The Wall
This week I returned to a completely different lodge. The parking lot was full of motor bikes, cars, and RVs. The lodge was fully operational with new employees at each station. I’d never seen so many people in the gift shop at once – or the milk shake machine!!! I was introducing myself to new people left and right! Some of them thought I was brand new and offered their welcomes while others responded with, “Oh! You’re David!” A couple of girls even went as far to say, “Oh! You’re David! David the dancer, I’ve heard of you!” To which I would smile, laugh, and then leave. Apparently I was talked about in the girl’s dorm while I was gone. A couple of them were especially excited that I knew how to lindy hop. Tasha – who I worked with on the counter three days in a row – later told me about another conversation that took place in the break room. They couldn’t quite figure me out and finally labeled me as a ‘mysterious flirt’ because I was really nice, but to everyone. Again I just laughed. It reminded me of the time when I was first working with the Stokes brothers. I found out that it was a customer’s birthday that day and found them a piece of cake to celebrate. I wanted the boys from the kitchen to come out singing with the cake, but they were too skeptical to go through with it. Later I found out that they just didn’t trust me – thinking that I was setting them up somehow and that there was no way that I would be that outwardly nice to complete strangers. They later learned that I was legit – naturally a nice guy ;).
Day One – The Trailer
My first work day back at the lodge was spent playing in the mud underneath a mobile home. We needed more space for the house keeping employees and had thus purchased a used trailer home to house them. The first part of the day was spent leveling the trailer with hydraulic jacks, cinder blocks and 2x4s. Sale and I did most of the muscle work while 86 year old Uncle George gave us instructions. He was a straight shooter – told it how it was and always hit things right on the head. And he frequently said damn. I liked him.
more to be posted here...
Seeking Validation
As I came in and out of the lodge throughout the day I kept meeting new people that I hadn’t seen the night before. Again I was perceived as a new kid until I introduced myself as David. When asked in which department of the lodge I was working I would raise my hands and shrug my shoulders indicating that I didn’t know. At first however I felt that I needed to prove myself to everyone – seeking their validation. After a few introductions I recognized what I was doing and reminded myself that I didn’t need to appear ‘all knowing’ and prestigious to these new people. If I was to stay on with the “Elite Waitri Team’ then awesome, but if not awesome as well. And though I was very friendly to all the new faces, I found myself revert back to my old group of friends.
Day Two – Left Counter
My second day back blew my world away and started one of the greater learning curves that I’ve had while serving food. I was put on the afternoon swing shift. I was later to find out that the swing shift is the most difficult positions and often given to the more experienced employees.
In the lodge we have a horse shoe shaped counter surrounded by swivel chairs that people sit around and eat. The lodge also has a diner with tables for a more formal setting. During moderate times two waiters manage the diner and another two the counter. What makes swing especially difficult is that they manage the left counter and ‘swing’ into the diner during the rush hours and pick up a few tables.
I felt like it was my first day all over again! I was running around lik e achicken with it’s head cut off! And on top of that the girls that I was working with had only been there a few days.,… I was kept on late swing for three days straight – helping out a little with everyone. Besides two returning veterans of past years I was the go-to man for a lot of questions. Most times I knew the answer of could at least make one up that sounded about right… other times my hands found their way into the air followed by a shoulder shrug.
I was kept completely busy all day long – something I hadn’t yet experienced while waiting tables. Left counter certainly brought me out of my comfort zone and made me sweat like I hadn’t done since the snow mobile gang several months earlier.
I learned a few things about waiting tables this last week that I hope to never forget...
#1 – Being grateful for your co-workers goes a long way. Appreciating them for their positive attributes and overlooking their short comings… Offering little tips of advice yet not over bearing… Help them with their customers with no intention for reward – basically, be a really nice guy.
Number two ties in with number one… have an attitude of service. The left counter is also often the gathering place for the Rich family to eat. Mrs. Rich at 87 doesn’t move from that first seat very often. At first I was a little reluctant to have them continually there taking up counter space… essentially deterring business from my pocket. Here at the lodge, being provided with free room and board my only earnings come from tips generously offered by the customers. So basically – my services to the Rich family not only are for free, but cost me money as well for two hours a day. (Fix this…)
My attitude soon changed when I realized that my tip reports were above anyone elses that I worked with… I wondered how I could be shafted two hours a day yet still make above average tips. My conclusion came that it was that same attitude displayed to the Rich family that earned me good tips from the customers. My whole perspective changed… I looked forward to Mrs. Rich shuffling over to her seat. I loved clearing their plates without it being expected, I loved refilling their drinks and anticipating their needs. I relearned about myself that I loved serving people. I loved to smile and be charming. I loved being nice to people because it made me feel good! And it reflected in the way people tipped me.
Mrs. Rich
Jacob Lake Inn is a family run business established in 1923. Originally it was a trading post way back when for travelers to resupply their essentials along their journey through Arizona. Today, some 90 years later, the business has passed through several generations of the Rich family where John Rich at 63 some years old is not the majority share owner. Mrs. Effie Dean Rich is his mother and matriarch of the lodge. Though her family urges her to rest more than she does, she insists on returning to the lodge year after year to whip us Waitri into shape. I’d heard horror stories of her chewing kids out in front of everyone, humiliating them in front of their customers. I feared the day she showed up at the lodge to resume her post on the left counter.
Oh! Something else I learned! Be humble!!! Take the criticism and put it to good use! Mrs. Rich called me over several times my first day back to ask me what I was doing… The correction was brieg and to the point – most often in the form of a question. She preached consequences be over and over again, “I don’t believe in right or wrong – I believe in consequences.”
The lady was smart – and after decades of experience had become extremely efficient. After each talking to I would try and adjust accordingly. I found that life became easier with each pulling aside. I always addressed her as Mrs. Rich and ended most of my sentences directed to her with Ma’am. I cared for her needs and helped out where I could – almost like she were my own grandma that I was never mature enough to appreciate.
Effie Dean began to smile when she saw me and even called me sir. Occasionally she would throw ‘good sir’ in there and at the end of the week she called me “my good friend.” It made me extremely grateful that I didn’t let her pressure frustrate me for long.
Day One – The Trailer
My first work day back at the lodge was spent playing in the mud underneath a mobile home. We needed more space for the house keeping employees and had thus purchased a used trailer home to house them. The first part of the day was spent leveling the trailer with hydraulic jacks, cinder blocks and 2x4s. Sale and I did most of the muscle work while 86 year old Uncle George gave us instructions. He was a straight shooter – told it how it was and always hit things right on the head. And he frequently said damn. I liked him.
more to be posted here...
Seeking Validation
As I came in and out of the lodge throughout the day I kept meeting new people that I hadn’t seen the night before. Again I was perceived as a new kid until I introduced myself as David. When asked in which department of the lodge I was working I would raise my hands and shrug my shoulders indicating that I didn’t know. At first however I felt that I needed to prove myself to everyone – seeking their validation. After a few introductions I recognized what I was doing and reminded myself that I didn’t need to appear ‘all knowing’ and prestigious to these new people. If I was to stay on with the “Elite Waitri Team’ then awesome, but if not awesome as well. And though I was very friendly to all the new faces, I found myself revert back to my old group of friends.
Day Two – Left Counter
My second day back blew my world away and started one of the greater learning curves that I’ve had while serving food. I was put on the afternoon swing shift. I was later to find out that the swing shift is the most difficult positions and often given to the more experienced employees.
In the lodge we have a horse shoe shaped counter surrounded by swivel chairs that people sit around and eat. The lodge also has a diner with tables for a more formal setting. During moderate times two waiters manage the diner and another two the counter. What makes swing especially difficult is that they manage the left counter and ‘swing’ into the diner during the rush hours and pick up a few tables.
I felt like it was my first day all over again! I was running around lik e achicken with it’s head cut off! And on top of that the girls that I was working with had only been there a few days.,… I was kept on late swing for three days straight – helping out a little with everyone. Besides two returning veterans of past years I was the go-to man for a lot of questions. Most times I knew the answer of could at least make one up that sounded about right… other times my hands found their way into the air followed by a shoulder shrug.
I was kept completely busy all day long – something I hadn’t yet experienced while waiting tables. Left counter certainly brought me out of my comfort zone and made me sweat like I hadn’t done since the snow mobile gang several months earlier.
I learned a few things about waiting tables this last week that I hope to never forget...
#1 – Being grateful for your co-workers goes a long way. Appreciating them for their positive attributes and overlooking their short comings… Offering little tips of advice yet not over bearing… Help them with their customers with no intention for reward – basically, be a really nice guy.
Number two ties in with number one… have an attitude of service. The left counter is also often the gathering place for the Rich family to eat. Mrs. Rich at 87 doesn’t move from that first seat very often. At first I was a little reluctant to have them continually there taking up counter space… essentially deterring business from my pocket. Here at the lodge, being provided with free room and board my only earnings come from tips generously offered by the customers. So basically – my services to the Rich family not only are for free, but cost me money as well for two hours a day. (Fix this…)
My attitude soon changed when I realized that my tip reports were above anyone elses that I worked with… I wondered how I could be shafted two hours a day yet still make above average tips. My conclusion came that it was that same attitude displayed to the Rich family that earned me good tips from the customers. My whole perspective changed… I looked forward to Mrs. Rich shuffling over to her seat. I loved clearing their plates without it being expected, I loved refilling their drinks and anticipating their needs. I relearned about myself that I loved serving people. I loved to smile and be charming. I loved being nice to people because it made me feel good! And it reflected in the way people tipped me.
Mrs. Rich
Jacob Lake Inn is a family run business established in 1923. Originally it was a trading post way back when for travelers to resupply their essentials along their journey through Arizona. Today, some 90 years later, the business has passed through several generations of the Rich family where John Rich at 63 some years old is not the majority share owner. Mrs. Effie Dean Rich is his mother and matriarch of the lodge. Though her family urges her to rest more than she does, she insists on returning to the lodge year after year to whip us Waitri into shape. I’d heard horror stories of her chewing kids out in front of everyone, humiliating them in front of their customers. I feared the day she showed up at the lodge to resume her post on the left counter.
Oh! Something else I learned! Be humble!!! Take the criticism and put it to good use! Mrs. Rich called me over several times my first day back to ask me what I was doing… The correction was brieg and to the point – most often in the form of a question. She preached consequences be over and over again, “I don’t believe in right or wrong – I believe in consequences.”
The lady was smart – and after decades of experience had become extremely efficient. After each talking to I would try and adjust accordingly. I found that life became easier with each pulling aside. I always addressed her as Mrs. Rich and ended most of my sentences directed to her with Ma’am. I cared for her needs and helped out where I could – almost like she were my own grandma that I was never mature enough to appreciate.
Effie Dean began to smile when she saw me and even called me sir. Occasionally she would throw ‘good sir’ in there and at the end of the week she called me “my good friend.” It made me extremely grateful that I didn’t let her pressure frustrate me for long.
Car Issues...
Several months ago I kept getting the feeling that car troubles were soon on my way. They frist came to me furing one of my commutes between jobs in the middle of the desert witout cell service. I was sure that it was kjust a ‘that would really suck if…’ kinf of thought and dismissed it from my worries. My little Honda hadn’t shown any signs of approaching death and I had taken fairly good care of her – with regular oil changes and smooth driving.
The feeling that my car was in trouble returned to me a couple more times. I told my mother what was going on to which she asked all the normal questions about the car’s performance, leaving us both to conclude that for now things are fine. She offered that if anything did happen and I was left carless that we would figure it out then. Again the worries left me.
So sometime down the road… without giving it a second thought I let two of my coworkers from the lodge borrow my car for their day off to Saint George. I gave them strict instructions to treat my baby with care and that Ethan was NOT to drive. He had a history of destroying clutches – the most recent being only one month before. Logan appeared to be the more responsible driver so I put him as captain.
Halfway through the day Traz from the office came to the kitchen window and announced that I was wanted on the phone. I could only convince myself of one thing – Logan and Ethan stranded on the side of the road…
And sure enough, “So… David… there seems to be a problem with your car…”
Logan went on to explain that the clutch had blown and that the car was in front of his uncle’s friend’s neighbor’s roommate’s house in Saint George. My heart sank as I started asking questions about what had happened. Apparently it had started slipping in 5th gear while ascending a hill on the highway, and then again in first gear while driving around town. They barely made it to the house from which it wouldn’t move.
With only a half hour left of my shift on the grill, I was dismissed early to be able to try and save the situation. I helped arrange rides for the boys back to the lodge and spent a couple hours on the phone with different people. With my mother I talked about different outcomes – repairing versus buying a new car. If it wasn’t quite worth it to repair the Honda then I would go to Church Fleet Services and buy a used Toyota Carola for eight or nine thousand dollars. I also got in contact with a local auto shop recommended to me by my boss. “They’re good honest people.” AAA wouldn’t tow my car without me being present so I would have to wait until my day off in the morning to get myself to Saint George.
Parker let me borrow his truck on the premise that I NOT blow his clutch – I smiled and thanked him with a ‘brotha hug’ for his kindness. I wanted to get into town bright and early in anticipation of having to call a tow truck and spend all day in the shop. With some shotty directions and a tourist map of Saint George I found the house and my car. I experienced a certain relief when I pulled up behind my little Honda. She doesn’t have a name but she knows that I love her. We’ve been through a lot together these last five years of my driving life. I found the keys underneath the seat and fired her up. I wanted to know for myself what was going on… I gave it a minute to warm up and then eased out the clutch in first. She crawled forward just like normal… I put her in second and went around the block… It seemed as if nothing were wrong! I smiled to myself out loud, rubbed the dash board and drove her straight to the shop.
I was extremely relieved to find out that the clutch was NOT blown – just worn. The mechanic speculated that the boys had ridden it hard all day heating up the boot pads causing it to slip. Though the clutch was definitely on its way to needing replaced, it still had months of life still in it if I baby her. I smiled with relief and called my mother.
The feeling that my car was in trouble returned to me a couple more times. I told my mother what was going on to which she asked all the normal questions about the car’s performance, leaving us both to conclude that for now things are fine. She offered that if anything did happen and I was left carless that we would figure it out then. Again the worries left me.
So sometime down the road… without giving it a second thought I let two of my coworkers from the lodge borrow my car for their day off to Saint George. I gave them strict instructions to treat my baby with care and that Ethan was NOT to drive. He had a history of destroying clutches – the most recent being only one month before. Logan appeared to be the more responsible driver so I put him as captain.
Halfway through the day Traz from the office came to the kitchen window and announced that I was wanted on the phone. I could only convince myself of one thing – Logan and Ethan stranded on the side of the road…
And sure enough, “So… David… there seems to be a problem with your car…”
Logan went on to explain that the clutch had blown and that the car was in front of his uncle’s friend’s neighbor’s roommate’s house in Saint George. My heart sank as I started asking questions about what had happened. Apparently it had started slipping in 5th gear while ascending a hill on the highway, and then again in first gear while driving around town. They barely made it to the house from which it wouldn’t move.
With only a half hour left of my shift on the grill, I was dismissed early to be able to try and save the situation. I helped arrange rides for the boys back to the lodge and spent a couple hours on the phone with different people. With my mother I talked about different outcomes – repairing versus buying a new car. If it wasn’t quite worth it to repair the Honda then I would go to Church Fleet Services and buy a used Toyota Carola for eight or nine thousand dollars. I also got in contact with a local auto shop recommended to me by my boss. “They’re good honest people.” AAA wouldn’t tow my car without me being present so I would have to wait until my day off in the morning to get myself to Saint George.
Parker let me borrow his truck on the premise that I NOT blow his clutch – I smiled and thanked him with a ‘brotha hug’ for his kindness. I wanted to get into town bright and early in anticipation of having to call a tow truck and spend all day in the shop. With some shotty directions and a tourist map of Saint George I found the house and my car. I experienced a certain relief when I pulled up behind my little Honda. She doesn’t have a name but she knows that I love her. We’ve been through a lot together these last five years of my driving life. I found the keys underneath the seat and fired her up. I wanted to know for myself what was going on… I gave it a minute to warm up and then eased out the clutch in first. She crawled forward just like normal… I put her in second and went around the block… It seemed as if nothing were wrong! I smiled to myself out loud, rubbed the dash board and drove her straight to the shop.
I was extremely relieved to find out that the clutch was NOT blown – just worn. The mechanic speculated that the boys had ridden it hard all day heating up the boot pads causing it to slip. Though the clutch was definitely on its way to needing replaced, it still had months of life still in it if I baby her. I smiled with relief and called my mother.
RCA - The Bullfrogs
As written in my field journal...
This week proved to be another major first for me. Last week I was with an all girls group – this week I’m with the all rebels group. When a student repeatedly no longer wishes to follow the basic structure of the program then they are pulled from their normal groups and relocated to the Bullfrogs. Here each student is put on what we call separates – AKA individual camps. The kids aren’t to talk or interact with each other and have minimal responsibilities, only tending to the most basic needs – wood, food, sleep, etc. Ig a kid shapes up and decides to follow the structure then they are allowed to work on their phase work. The design of the group is not to have a social or exciting environment. Our instructions this week were to be as boring as we possibly could – limiting our conversation and interaction with the students.
Our fire pit was placed in the middle of an opening amongst the Juniper trees. Each student was assigned their own spot away from each other but still with insight of our camp fire. The instructions are for each individual to dig their own fire pit and sump (a hole for grey water), gather their own wood and tend to their own fires. On rare occasions that everyone is willing to hike are the kids allowed to carry on casual conversations.
This week we had four students in our Bullfrogs group. When Rising Wolf and I were dropped off to relieve the old staff two of the students were already there from the week before. We waited on the side of the road until the other two unfortunate students arrived to discover their new discomfort.
Student Rory upon taking off his blind fold and leaving the vehicle he was moved with realized that he had once again landed in the Bullfrogs and started cursing up a storm. “Ah no! I’m in the Bullfrogs?! That’s it… I’m refusing! - Staff, just so you know I won’t be hiking or following any directives. I’m done.” (translated and filtered for both your and my comfort.) The fourth student to arrive was Jacob, the notorious runner from last week. He had become overly compliant with the program yet at the same time pled innocence to the world. I assume Bullfrogs was to give the kid some alone time to think.
After a few moments when all the people who needed to see us had seen us, Rising Wolf pulled the group together to offer a brief introduction and to outline the week and structure of Bullfrogs group. He offered that we didn’t exactly know why nor really cared why they were now in the Bullfrogs or in RCA for that matter – but that we were going to make the best of the situation anyhow. After answering a few questions the kids seemed to calm down a bit and put their packs on ready to hike.
We didn’t push them too hard and took lots of breaks for fear of one of them giving up and sitting down on the trail. A few miles down the road we set up camp and then day hiked for water. Once back at camp we started the dinner process beginning with bowing time – a chance for kids to work on their fire sets and ultimately make a fire. Only two of the kids managed any success to build fires in their pits. The other two went without, sitting down in their cold camps defeated. There was no safety concern with the temperatures so we simply told the kids to layer up and keep bowing. When dinner came around the two ‘withouts’ were allowed to cook on our fire and then retire back to their spots.
More to be posted later!
This week proved to be another major first for me. Last week I was with an all girls group – this week I’m with the all rebels group. When a student repeatedly no longer wishes to follow the basic structure of the program then they are pulled from their normal groups and relocated to the Bullfrogs. Here each student is put on what we call separates – AKA individual camps. The kids aren’t to talk or interact with each other and have minimal responsibilities, only tending to the most basic needs – wood, food, sleep, etc. Ig a kid shapes up and decides to follow the structure then they are allowed to work on their phase work. The design of the group is not to have a social or exciting environment. Our instructions this week were to be as boring as we possibly could – limiting our conversation and interaction with the students.
Our fire pit was placed in the middle of an opening amongst the Juniper trees. Each student was assigned their own spot away from each other but still with insight of our camp fire. The instructions are for each individual to dig their own fire pit and sump (a hole for grey water), gather their own wood and tend to their own fires. On rare occasions that everyone is willing to hike are the kids allowed to carry on casual conversations.
This week we had four students in our Bullfrogs group. When Rising Wolf and I were dropped off to relieve the old staff two of the students were already there from the week before. We waited on the side of the road until the other two unfortunate students arrived to discover their new discomfort.
Student Rory upon taking off his blind fold and leaving the vehicle he was moved with realized that he had once again landed in the Bullfrogs and started cursing up a storm. “Ah no! I’m in the Bullfrogs?! That’s it… I’m refusing! - Staff, just so you know I won’t be hiking or following any directives. I’m done.” (translated and filtered for both your and my comfort.) The fourth student to arrive was Jacob, the notorious runner from last week. He had become overly compliant with the program yet at the same time pled innocence to the world. I assume Bullfrogs was to give the kid some alone time to think.
After a few moments when all the people who needed to see us had seen us, Rising Wolf pulled the group together to offer a brief introduction and to outline the week and structure of Bullfrogs group. He offered that we didn’t exactly know why nor really cared why they were now in the Bullfrogs or in RCA for that matter – but that we were going to make the best of the situation anyhow. After answering a few questions the kids seemed to calm down a bit and put their packs on ready to hike.
We didn’t push them too hard and took lots of breaks for fear of one of them giving up and sitting down on the trail. A few miles down the road we set up camp and then day hiked for water. Once back at camp we started the dinner process beginning with bowing time – a chance for kids to work on their fire sets and ultimately make a fire. Only two of the kids managed any success to build fires in their pits. The other two went without, sitting down in their cold camps defeated. There was no safety concern with the temperatures so we simply told the kids to layer up and keep bowing. When dinner came around the two ‘withouts’ were allowed to cook on our fire and then retire back to their spots.
More to be posted later!
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Random...
Crazy week!
The Grand Canyon opened up and and business at the lodge is booming. I can't seem to find any free time for myself anymore! I'll try and get some more stories up here this next week when I return from the woods...
I love it when...
- someone gives me a high five as they walk by, just because.
- I can look someone in the eyes and smile.
- I can offer service to someone else's customer out of the goodness of my heart - not expecting to be tipped.
- Customers are patient with me when I blunder repeatedly.
- I can lay down to rest and sleep the whole night through.
- "thank you" naturally comes out of my mouth.
The Grand Canyon opened up and and business at the lodge is booming. I can't seem to find any free time for myself anymore! I'll try and get some more stories up here this next week when I return from the woods...
I love it when...
- someone gives me a high five as they walk by, just because.
- I can look someone in the eyes and smile.
- I can offer service to someone else's customer out of the goodness of my heart - not expecting to be tipped.
- Customers are patient with me when I blunder repeatedly.
- I can lay down to rest and sleep the whole night through.
- "thank you" naturally comes out of my mouth.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)