This non-stop week kicked off with a long training weekend up at the Cispus headquarters for those of us that are interested in being volunteer facilitators this year (or those of us that are interested in getting to clock those training hours.) It was fun because it felt like being back in summer camp. And it was tough because it felt like being back in summer camp. My days were interspersed with flashbacks of lining up in cabin groups to go to the dining hall or scrambling around dusty bunks trying to grab some forgotten raincoat before the group dispersed without you. But the strangest sensation was when those memories crossed over with recognizing that was not me anymore and the longing for home that they brought with them tried to implant itself.
Experiencing the challenge course itself was a far more enriching comparison. I remember playing the little warm up games where we would have to line ourselves up by birthday without talking. I remember balancing on snarly ropes and clinging to the shirts of my peers as we tried to fit everyone on a small square platform. I remember being hoisted over giant barrels and being belayed into the air. I remember all of these things but in my mind, they were purely physical. Even thought of almost as solitary acts. And when they were not solitary, they were about proving yourself, always watching the other students. Now here as a facilitator, we were learning all of the hidden lessons and growth opportunities these courses had to offer. I do not know if it was because I had never had a good facilitator or I just had not registered these courses on a more personal level at that age, but to see the breadth and depth of material to work from was by far the most rewarding part of the weekend.
Our first day was mainly used to get us out on the course and experience some of the events first hand. The weather was mild and at the end of the afternoon, our group was still pretty chipper. No injuries, no cold or wet limbs, and no extremely hindering barriers had been encountered at the events. We even had the guts to exclaim something along the lines of "pshh, that was a challenge?"
It had been implied that we would be meeting inside that evening to get our manuals and read over some of the material. So after dinner, I made some tea and grabbed an apple, ready to get cozy. I almost thought about slipping on pjs. "Alright! Everyone get a blindfold and meet outside!" We had just received our manuals before we were thrown a large sheet and scissors and were out of our chairs again. We got in a circle to play a short warm-up game and I half-heartedly followed along, thinking of my cooling tea inside. With the ending in our hands, we finally decided it was "done" and I began to turn back towards the door. "Okay, everyone got your blindfolds? follow me!" That door suddenly became a distant memory as we paraded past the cabins back in the direction of the woods. I tried to fathom what the blindfolds were for, thinking the were going to lead us to the tree line perhaps and do some sort of guided practice to get us back inside. But no, we were going deep in. I was rigidly holding onto my impatience and disappointment about my tea and once I realized we were not coming out any time soon, I held a stiff scowl as our instructions for the mystery event were given. We were to be blindfolded and led, hands on shoulders, to the event. There would be a rope and at the end of a rope, there would be keys. Find the keys and you are done. Always have hand on rope. No talking. Many in the group had questions and many had repeated questions for clarification. I just wanted to get this over with. Then, as we finally got going, sight and sound gone, I realized how stuck I was an slowly released my frustration. The event turned out to be fascinating. Challenging and frustrating. But fascinating. The whole way back, none of us could stop talking. What it had been like to be so lost and what it had been like for those who finished, to helplessly watch those so lost. After that, none of us were saying we were not challenged. As it turned out, that had been the only reason that was integrated into our evening plans.
This was one of many things we spent the second day doing: learn how to read the group. The woods offer over 33 different events and with the possibilities of field activities, your tool box had enough to keep you busy for days. The course sees all sorts of groups: ROTC, sports teams, camps, school groups, recovery groups, even business groups. As a facilitator, our job is to present our group with challenges that will benefit them in the goals they are trying to reach and to recognize what is emotionally, mentally, physically or spiritually too much for them. We started the day with a chilly walk and talk through as many events that we could get to in the woods before lunch, learning about the different reasons one would or would not use different events and what to be aware of in terms of safety. The second half of the day brought the rain and we huddled under a shelter with a fire. Our trainers could tell that some of us were feeling pretty defeated from the weather and as they showed us how to do a couple of "lawn games", actual participation was left up to choice while the watchers stayed close to the fire. I was in the watching group a number of times.
On our final day, we split up into two groups and each of us facilitated an event. Since our "group" was not really one with a focused goal, each of us disclaimed with the kind of group we were tailoring our event for. We got to act like rowdy middle schoolers and stuck-up cheerleaders while our group leaders Corey and AJ kept us on track by asking the missed questions and giving us feedback afterwards.
At the end of the weekend, I felt strange. I loved the idea of these experiential tools that empower kids to kind of do their own learning about themselves and their relationship to the world and others. And yet, while I believed and heard about all of the "ah ha" moments that you get to witness by putting the challenges into the group's own hands, I couldn't shake the intimidation I felt about being responsible. I fancied myself an observer - acute at reading others - and yet I froze at the thought that I would have to pick the right sequence of activities and the right debriefing questions for the groups I was with. The entire time, I had felt like the events were presenting no real issue for me - I trusted being lifted, going through tough physical areas, I was good at planning out solutions with the team - and yet the growth opportunity was hanging over me the whole time. I was constantly comparing our instructor's wisdom and course of action to the hypothetical course that I would lead and immediately, I was shutting down and feeling inferior. It wasn't until a few days later when I was shaking off the last of this dissatisfied feeling that I realized my issue. I needed to let myself accept being a beginner. It was insulting to myself and to those who had invested so much time into learning a skill that I would expect to be able to launch myself into facilitation with the same expertise. It was frustrating to recognize such an immature perception but it was suiting to find a wedge of personal growth from that weekend that I had not been able to articulate before.
Also, besides getting to spend more time with the AmeriFamily I also got to meet some wonderful individuals from other organizations as well: An incredibly charismatic and fun young man Tino, a spunky and vibrant school employee patricia, a calm, quiet music teach Josh, Jaqualine and Roberta both very strong-valued educators and Taza a Zumba teacher and children's yoga instructor for a montessori school who felt especially relatable.
And we got T-shirts.
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