through the storm.

13 weeks down. 91 to go.

Hello, Civilization. I've missed you.

This week, I should have been climbing rock walls, zipping down zip lines, watching my campers complete low ropes challenges, watching them learn to trust one another, to trust themselves, watching them succeed individually and collectively.

Instead, I spent the week isolated in campsite in a state of chaos.

There are four stages to group development: forming, storming, norming, and performing. From what I've been told, a "performing" group is rare. It occurs when the group runs itself, where the campers are all so high-functioning that little supervisory intervention is needed. When I came into the woods back in January, my group was "norming." The group had been together for months without a new addition, and 4 campers were about to graduate. They knew each other and were functioning well. If you've been reading along, you'll know that I now have 7 new campers and 5 campers who have been around for more than 4 months. 2 of these campers are graduating this week. Over the past 3 weeks, my group has been recreating it's identity. Each camper has been trying to find his role in group, and it hasn't been what I would call smooth. Over the last week, my group has been transitioning from a "forming" group to a "storming" group.

True to the word, it feels like I'm caught in a hurricane. Violent campers, out-of-bounds campers, extreme defiance, dangerous behavior, and overall chaos and craziness. This week, we've had to simulate our trip in campsite, cooking all of our meals over the fire, staying in campsite away from community and camp life.

A storming group + isolation + previous bad behaviors + frustration over not going on the trip = Insanity.

One night out of 6 nights, the group went down to bed before 11 pm when they usually are down by 9 pm at the latest. Three campers were restrained by staff to prevent dangerous behavior, one of which is now sitting in detention for 5 days to cool down. I am beat up and bruised because of campers putting their hands on me in aggressive ways. My things were stolen and buried. Kids were caught with tobacco. Beds were damaged, sheets soaked in water and decorated with toothpaste curse words. Kids refused to wake up, refused to go to sleep. I was called every sexually inappropriate name you can imagine and even those you can't imagine. My life was threatened at least once a day. A decapitated skink tail was rubbed down my arm. Kids were threatened by other kids. Kids were kicked by other kids and intimidated with violence. We sat in huddles for hours waiting on campers to come and pay attention. We never ate breakfast before 11 am (normally eaten at 8:30 am) and usually had all three meals within a 5 hour window.

Oh. My. God.

I don't even really know what to do now that I've survived this week. Part of me wants to run away and say, "forget this!" Part of me realizes that this may be the worst it could get besides campers getting seriously hurt.

One of my campers who is graduating this week is the reason why this camp exists. He has transformed himself and his life in his 9 months and 22 days at camp. I know that when he leaves camp, he has the tools he needs to do something different with his life. He's not going to be the President, or a CEO of a Fortune 500 company, but he is going to be one less man in jail and one more person impacting another life because of his experience.

Knowing that he had the opportunity to change and took it gives me hope for this group of new campers. Right now, they are just at the beginning of a long road, and I need to be there at the end of their journey. I need to see them to the end, and I need to know that I was a part of the entire journey of a child's transformation. Through the storms. Through the fire. And through the celebration of their transition back home.