The Time My Camp Counselor was the Star of the Nature Reserve


I used to go to an after school program/camp in Homewood called the YWCA. The camp was 99.9% black people. But that last 0.1% was filled up by my camp counselor. I mean that figuratively and literally. The lady was a bit on the rounder side and her biggest issue was that she was adventurous. I’m a little bit on the rounder side, and one thing you won’t catch me or most other round people being is adventurous. In theory wouldn’t really affect us camp kids since being adventurous was her own personal choice. The problem was when she made us be adventurous with her.

One of the counselor’s favorite places to go was an animal reserve in who knows where ( I didn’t want to remember the location as it was traumatizing). At this reserve you could see the flying thingies and the big brown furry things that none of us kids really cared to learn about (we were too busy thinking of ways to get out of there).

The two times that she took us to this place, she either did something crazy or something crazy happened to her. The very first year we went she only let us feed the ducks. I didn’t feed the ducks because I was not about to play none of their duck duck goose games and I was not in the mood for any duck problems (If the ducks had tested me there would have been duck sauce for everybody and their mother’s).

As we began to leave she noticed that a plastic bag had trapped a fish that was in a little pond. I thought it was sad and I felt bad for the little fishy. But I was still more concerned with escaping this foreign land I had been kidnapped to. While I was preoccupied, she decided to be a hero and go free the fish. Now, there was this mini cliff that separated us humans from the fishy. She decided to climb down it and free the fish. Let me just tell you that there were approximately 150 people watching her do this, but no one offered this woman any help. Do you know why they didn’t offer her any help? Because they were probably thinking what I was thinking, which was that this big lady was gonna slip and fall into this pond and die in front of all of us.

As she inched closer and closer to the bag my heart began to beat super-duper fast. I thought I was about to pass out from fear, but I held it together because it was her moment, and I didn’t want to steal the spotlight. She got to the bag and began shaking it with a stick. Then it starts to look like she’ll fall in the water and we all scream. At that moment, everyone seemed scared, but I just started laughing at the idea of her falling into the water.

I had so many questions. How large would the splash be? Would she be eaten by the fish? Would camp be cancelled? Would our departure home be delayed? Would the fish still be in the bag afterwards?

Unfortunately, none of those questions were answered. And the fish was dead. She did all of that for a dead fish. After that, some of the kids actually started to listen to the counselor. They stopped doing that the year afterwards, though. That time she tripped and fell on a haystack in the buffalo section of the reserve. But that’s a story for another time.