My vocal cords already felt ripped, and we hadn’t even started playing yet. We were thumping our chests and making war cries, swaying back and forth in a huddle shouting, and loving life. I felt like I was ten again, when I was a camper here, and we were inducting the semester into an ancient summer camp tradition. Capture the flag? Not quite, each team has seven flags, and we play harder. The game’s called Rocks. You don’t know how to play? Sit down, new kids, Niall and I are going to teach you. We might need some help though, because it turns out that when adrenaline starts coursing through my veins I get pretty bad at explaining things. I’m sorry, Katie, that you fell while running at full speed through the woods in the dark, but take one for the team, girl, and try again! Go!
So maybe I was the most excited person there. And maybe I was near-shouting at breakfast over the injustices of the white team’s loss last night. My leg got bruised! The flags were in different position then the standard camp orientation, clearly giving the green team the advantage! Plus, it was dark out, and I bet that anyone can guess whether that gives the green or the white team an advantage in stealth. Even though I may be speaking mostly for myself, I never felt so connected to the semester. I was sharing my childhood with the group; I played this game for two hours every Sunday of every summer for four years. Generally though, when we go outside as a semester, I’m impressed by the energy with which our semester takes things on. Well, we don’t play dodge ball anymore, but when we go outside, we strategize, learn new playing styles, communicate, bond, and grow. To me, a work program is worth a week’s worth of classes. So yes, to everyone who’s been asking, I’m thoroughly glad that I ended up coming to Chewonki.