Class Action
Thursday, July 18th, 2024
RAINBOW THEATER circa 11:45am—A distant wildfire has cast a faint, white haze into the atmosphere, mainly visible in the contrast between the immediate tree line and the neighboring hills (check out Lost Coast Outpost for more info). More noticeable is the campfire aroma which somehow conjures delicious visions of our impending lunchtime. Second period has just begun and campers freshly dismissed from the theater run or amble in all directions toward the myriad class sites.
A group of ‘indeciders’ loiter by the stage to ponder the white board class list. A trifecta of counselors assist in the decision-making process, namely PerfCo, Duper of the Day, and Straggler Patrol (see: teacher manager, time keeper, and roaming supervision). As the last of the crowd disperses, the clowning class takes the stage to plumb the depths of absurdity. I take my own leave, eager to better understand the daily phenomenon of morning classes. My first stop is the Big Top, home of the acrobat.
“Moving one body only goes so far,” says Walker, 15, of the Scarlet Tipi. “In partner acro, you work with another person in harmony, increasing possibilities, expanding understanding. The hardest part is getting on the same wavelength. Once you’re mentally connected it becomes super easy.”
Completely out of iced coffee, I head for the kitchen, making a quick pitstop at the ever-tranquil Art Grove. Tissue paper flowers adorn the shade structure, creating a addition dimension of colorful detail. A row of small, red-handled scissors patiently wait atop yester-year’s paint splatters on a large worktable. Young artists are seated around, wrestling tissue and pipe cleaner into botanical facsimiles while the dulcet tones of The Alessi Brother’s “Seabird” stream out of a small portable speaker.
“Does this look crazy?” asks Jillian, 10, of the Yellow Tipi, while holding up the craziest thing I have ever seen in my life. “This is Frank the Banana Slug’s throne. He is very important and very adorable.”
“He’s king of slugs everywhere!” adds Jasmine, 10, also from Yellow.
“I’ve had Frank for two years,” continues Jillian. “I made him these necklaces yesterday here in the Art Grove. The first one says ‘FRANK’, the second ‘THE SLUG’, and third ‘KING’. Frank the slug king! The Art Grove is a calm place to have weird ideas.”
“I totally agree,” says Jasmine. “People come here to make props for their shows or just to whack out some crazy idea. I love it.”
I quietly rotate over to the kitchen dining area where a songwriting class is underway. The kitchen and dish house, usually bursting with canned music, have paused their playlists for the budding composers who hunch over pencil and lined paper at the multitude picnic tables.
“As far as themes this session, everyone’s songs are different; it’s hard to pin down,” reports Songwriting Instructor Johnny Ali Garcia. He pauses to receive a recitation of in-progress lyrics from a student. “That’s beautiful, really amazing,” he says after listening. The student scurries back to her workstation. “I feel like it’s a very fluid class and that’s important to me,” he continues. “Sometimes it’s been two separate classes, songwriting and beats & rhymes, but I see it as all on the same continuum. These guys are writing a song about a bluebird who crashes into a tree, ‘And it was feathers galore!’ They’re literally cooking over there.”
I make my way back downtown in anticipation of the end of the period. Striding the grassy knoll I encounter Straggler Patrol Jasper Skelton.
“Campers are excited,” they report. “One camper was tired so we arranged a nap for him, but it looks like he’s up and about now so that’s good. Sometimes at second period kids can be more tired, but besides our one napper everyone seemed highly engaged.”
“There’s certainly something in the air,” continues Jasper, referring to the haze. “But it’s cool and breezy so I think most people haven’t even noticed. When smoke gets bad at Camp we scale back aerobic activity, but we’re nowhere near that point so far. The main thing we need to remember is keeping up with our hydration, even though the heat wave is over.”
The conch blows, calling campers to the Rainbow Theater for afternoon activity announcements. I pull one stilt student aside for one last perspective. Stilt students at Camp are required to go through a series of trials in order to become “electrified” (see: qualified).
“I didn’t know if I was ready to get electrified, but I decided to just go for it,” says Hiram, 11, of the Maroon Tipi. “The stilts felt heavy on my legs. First I walked up the hill and then I did my laps, five of them. After that I ducked under the tree, touched my toes, and clapped under my knees—I clapped way more than ten times because I can. I had mixed feelings about stepping over the Pillow of Doom, but I got it on my first try! Now I’m electrified. Whenever I get the chance to do stilts, I take it. It’s very hard at first, but once you get the hang of it, it’s the best thing ever.”
Stay hydrated,
—J. Payseno, Editor
