Camp Lore - 19. Chapter 19

It took me a week of showing up at the girls’ camp every afternoon for people to get used to it. I’d stop at the girls’ HQ first and either check in with Mrs. Linden – Marie – or the girls’ head counselor – Stacey – or with whoever was temporarily in charge. By the end of the week, which was the third one in camp, I was told I didn’t need to check in anymore, just go straight to “work.”

“Looks like they’re getting a deal with you,” Stacey said. “You wait tables and teach IT.”

“Help teach – I’m probably learning as much as I train. That’s my end of the deal.”

“Andy’s good?”

“He knows more than the boys’ guy,” I politely admitted. I’d spent a couple of mornings hanging out with him, half for credibility and partly because I was curious.

And it was true – Andy did know more than Jeff. But Jeff was a better teacher.

“It’s so easy,” he said. “I’ve been doing it for years.”

Jeff was in his early thirties, his wife worked in the girls’ camp, and their daughter was spending her second year with the seven-year-olds.

“She was an honorary seven-year-old last year,” Jeff explained. “She used to just tag along with my wife or me, but last year, Mrs. Linden felt she was old enough to be in a bunk. So we experimented, and it worked. But this year, we’re keeping her with her own age group.”

“So the Lindens can bend rules.”

“Oh, yeah – it’s their camp. But they still won’t take a lot of little kids. The place is set up to teach kids independence – it’s one of the things my wife and I like best. But even the seven and eight-year-olds travel in groups.”

“It does seem hard to keep track of them.”

He laughed. “I half joked that we should put radio transmitters on them – like wild animals. The Lindens didn’t think the parents would go for it.”

“It is a bit rough.”

Jeff only grinned.

“Could you really track kids that way?” I went on.

“Hell, I can track them from their phones – why do you think the Lindens let them bring them to camp? Other places won’t. Though if they use them too much, we can jam the signals. Cut them right off.”

“Sounds like a prison.”

He laughed again. “Yeah, well, there is this ‘illusion of freedom.’ The Lindens like to pretend.”

“What does Mrs. Linden do for the rest of the year? When she’s not running the camp? I know Linden’s a coach.”

“Marie figures out new ways to spend their money – on the camp, of course. And the place really is a full-time job. Meeting new campers and their parents. Organizing winter reunions, to keep kids coming back. Linden could quit teaching and coaching any time he wants – unlike me.”

“I figured you also worked in business. Making better money.”

“I couldn’t get this kind of time off – and I hate corporate hours. Plus, I suck at freelancing – don’t have the personality to constantly look for work. So it’s easier to park myself in a classroom – live off the state.”

It was a view of teaching I didn’t get from my parents and grandparents. My grandparents had gone into it – at the public school level – because they thought it was noble. My parents taught college.

“Don’t let my father ever hear that I think he was less professional than I am,” my dad once warned me. “Even at my age, he’d throw me over his knee.”

“I can’t imagine Grandpa ever spanking you,” I said. “Did he really?”

“Unfortunately. And with a belt and an audience. You know I’m the oldest, and he was teaching us all a lesson.”

“He made your brother and sister watch?”

“That was the lesson.”

“How old were you?”

“I don’t know. Maybe seven or eight – if your aunt and uncle were already old enough to learn.”

“What did Grandma do?”

“Watched. She was raised the same way.”

“But this wasn’t that long ago.”

“No – but they were throwbacks. You should’ve met their parents.”

The problem was that even as Dad was trying to teach me something, I was having thoughts that had nothing to do with child raising. That was something not to tell Andy.

And part of the reason Jeff was a better teacher than Andy was Jeff seemed more concerned with making sure the kids understood. Andy kept showing them possibilities – that made him excited. “See once you know this, you can learn that. And this wasn’t even thought of till they figured out this other thing. It opened a whole new level.”

“Don’t you think you sometimes go a little fast?” I tactfully asked him.

He laughed. “I do it purposely – I was always bored in school. Still am, actually. There’s so much repetition.”

“It’s there so kids can understand.”

“What if they get it the first time?”

“They don’t always.”

“You don’t always,” he said, grinning. “But some of these girls do. Then they help the others.”

That shut me down. And it reminded me of learning to drive stick. I didn’t expect to be the brightest kid in the room, like some of Katie’s and my friends. I was also used to not getting things the first time and so figuring out what kinds of questions needed to be asked – then in passing that information on to the others. And that’s kind of what I did for Andy.

One of the counselors for the eight-year-olds told me that when her group was scheduled to go to the computer shack in the morning, some of them asked, “Can’t we wait till this afternoon, when Rob’s there? Andy’s funny, but Rob explains things better.”

“That’s ‘cause you’re at their level,” Andy joked when I told him.

I wanted to tickle him, because that was sometimes a way to bring down arrogant guys. It worked with girls, too, but that led to other things. But I wasn’t ready to touch Andy yet.

“Sometimes, I’m at their level,” I had to admit. “With some of the more complicated programs.”

“That’s why it’s so much easier when you’re here. Can’t you get mornings free, too?”

“I can. But there’s only so much time I can spend with you.”

“Why?”

He hadn’t been looking at me, and when I didn’t answer, he looked up from his keyboard – he couldn’t type without staring at it.

“Why?” he repeated.

“Because I want to see how well you dive,” I joked, and he got it immediately. As quickly, he yanked off his T-shirt.

I’d never seen him without one, and it was nice. But I froze. I could take off mine, but there really wasn’t time. And even though we were heading into general swim, there was no saying some counselor wouldn’t walk in – they occasionally used the camp’s computers rather than their own.

He let me look, then smiled and said, “Not now.” And he pulled his shirt back on as he continued to grin.

“Ohhh – mannnn,” I kind of groaned.

He just grinned wider.

“You’re cute when you grovel.”