Glimpse into Summer Camp

We have completed the first week. Each day at noon I have been overcome with this period of complete and utter weariness. That time when even your eyes are tired at looking, much less your brain at processing. Then when I could actually stop, it would come. That moment of doubt. That nagging that tells you that you're doing it wrong, you don't have any training or skill, you haven't read enough, you haven't observed enough, and you haven't prepared enough material. Then you wonder if they're even having a good time, and goodness, what they tell their parents when they get in the car. What one minute detail did they remember out of the full 3 hours you were with them.

Then during my own children's nap time I would update our daily log and interface, scrolling through the pictures of the morning. And I would see these...

After looking at the pictures of Day 1, all of my doubt was replaced by awe. In all of my craziness to orient, introduce, and re-direct, I missed these intricate glimpses of intense concentration and discovery. They were quick and hard to catch with the naked eye or lens, but I knew it was there. Sometimes I would take a break to breathe, catch the eye of one of my helpful room moms, or angel moms as I refer to them in my mind, and would give a silent exclamation of joy. I'm sure they thought I was crazy.

By day 4, I could see that my little flower buds had grown and were beginning to unfurl their soft petals. They were now sitting together in a group working on matching our scent bottles with the corresponding pictures, laughing and giggling at the smell of dirt.

I even had a moment of panic when beyond the laughter of the three, I was missing sight of the other two. One happened to be sitting in the book corner intently flipping through the pages of a book on the sense of sight, and upon tiptoeing to the doorway, the other joyful girl of the class was quietly making a face out of her cheese and pretzels, and humming Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, the association song we used for remembering the primary colors.

It was in the brief 3 moments of quiet bliss, that I realized I was not needed. In three short days I had begun to foster concentration, self exploration, discovery, and a joy in learning. It was at that moment I decided that this was going to be my life's work, and with a lot of hard work and a dash of grace, I could one day call myself a Montessorian.

Dru