The aggressive ping ding of bloated raindrops on the tin roof muddled our minds. Diving recklessly through the air, thousands of plump little kamikaze pilots assaulted the ancient cinder block building. Suddenly, a flood of electric energy breached the solid blackness, with a deafening crackle in hot pursuit. No, this is not the beginning of a low-budget horror movie or gritty crime thriller. This is the end of a long day at a leadership training course for teenagers.
I was Assistant Senior Patrol Leader at the Boy Scout's National Youth Leadership Training, meaning I was second in command at a camp with 48 teenage participants. Thinking of the time and money each participant was investing, I wanted to make sure the course was worthwhile. …show more content…
Our digital prophet, a 2010 Toshiba laptop, warned us of a quickly approaching and potentially devastating storm. No worries, though, we had a severe weather plan. Three sustained, piercing shrieks from an air horn convinced everyone to secure their campsites and gather in the property's only real building. Campers dashed along the narrow dirt road, racing to seal all their belongings away in nylon treasuries. One zany prankster, however, observed an irresistible opportunity to share his quirky sense of humor. He raced, instead, to the tent of an unpopular participant and slashed three devastating gashes in his rain …show more content…
“I hope he kept the receipt.” Quickly surveying the room, I examined 48 faces, dirty, wet, and exhausted. Some appeared to be holding back tears. As I approached the front of the room, I knew they were expecting an important announcement or another lecture, but I had neither. “who wants to hear a story?” I asked. It seemed like a natural question at the time. Receiving at most a nod from one or two younger kids, I launched into my story. Of course, the story I told them was terrible; it was a traditional camping tale, the kind that gradually builds tension only to land on a purposefully anticlimactic punchline. Nonetheless, they appreciated the gesture, and a couple of people asked for another story. Someone else volunteered to spin a yarn, since I only knew one. Then, someone else got us to sing a song. We passed the entire night with stories and songs and casual conversation: something that rarely happens with this age
I was Assistant Senior Patrol Leader at the Boy Scout's National Youth Leadership Training, meaning I was second in command at a camp with 48 teenage participants. Thinking of the time and money each participant was investing, I wanted to make sure the course was worthwhile. …show more content…
Our digital prophet, a 2010 Toshiba laptop, warned us of a quickly approaching and potentially devastating storm. No worries, though, we had a severe weather plan. Three sustained, piercing shrieks from an air horn convinced everyone to secure their campsites and gather in the property's only real building. Campers dashed along the narrow dirt road, racing to seal all their belongings away in nylon treasuries. One zany prankster, however, observed an irresistible opportunity to share his quirky sense of humor. He raced, instead, to the tent of an unpopular participant and slashed three devastating gashes in his rain …show more content…
“I hope he kept the receipt.” Quickly surveying the room, I examined 48 faces, dirty, wet, and exhausted. Some appeared to be holding back tears. As I approached the front of the room, I knew they were expecting an important announcement or another lecture, but I had neither. “who wants to hear a story?” I asked. It seemed like a natural question at the time. Receiving at most a nod from one or two younger kids, I launched into my story. Of course, the story I told them was terrible; it was a traditional camping tale, the kind that gradually builds tension only to land on a purposefully anticlimactic punchline. Nonetheless, they appreciated the gesture, and a couple of people asked for another story. Someone else volunteered to spin a yarn, since I only knew one. Then, someone else got us to sing a song. We passed the entire night with stories and songs and casual conversation: something that rarely happens with this age