fbpx
| DMCs |

Sweet Dreams

It filled me up to feel wanted, important, needed. Which is why once I started, I didn’t stop — at all

 

Eleventh grade was the year I spent more time crying than doing anything else. During that fateful year, my best friend switched schools, my social life became inordinately miserable, and Regents were not exactly fun either. It was lucky I emerged alive at all, actually. That’s why getting the job as Night Activity Head at Camp Peninim* was all the more incredible.

I’d applied for the position without much hope, to be honest. After the confidence-bashing and social challenges of the previous months, I didn’t imagine that someone like me even had a chance at masterminding the famous Peninim night activities. When the acceptance letter arrived, I had to read it four times before I was sure this was actually happening.

The purple and silver Peninim logo flashed at me above those magic words: “We are delighted to inform you that you have been accepted for the role of Night Activity Head.” Then there were 10 pages which basically said blah blah rules, blah blah forms, but the point is, something in my life was going right for the first time in months. My dream coming true! And boy was I going to ace it.

The next three months were a whirlwind of activity. While school remained annoying and political, on phone calls with Avigail, my co-head for night activity, I was flying high.

“Silent Disco left me a message. They can’t do Tuesday, what should we do?” I asked. Avigail went quiet.

“Hmm. How ‘bout we switch it with the photo shoot on Thursday instead?”

“Good idea!” I mumbled, while scribbling a note to myself to add ‘Call Photo People’ to my rapidly-extending list. This was hard work, but fun, fulfilling, and stimulating too.

We had our fair share of stresses and miscommunications because, as I learned, running the wrong activities can mean dire consequences for the competitive camp environment. Still, with some tears, more laughter, and even more calls, texts, and emails, the day arrived. Camp was set to begin.

Excerpted from Mishpacha Magazine. To view full version, SUBSCRIBE FOR FREE or LOG IN.

Oops! We could not locate your form.