Camp Conowingo Research Paper

Filing through a pile of mail one day at seventeen, I came across a pamphlet, “Camp Conowingo GSCM” it read in green, bubbly letters. Conowingo, I hadn’t heard that name since I was thirteen. As the fond memories of camp started to come back to me, I flipped through the pages, and came across something I didn’t expect to see, “Become a CIT! (Counselor in Training)” Wow, a camp counselor, I thought, that sounded like a much better alternative to watching cartoons all summer. Without much hesitation, I told my mom I wanted to be a CIT and applied immediately. Staff members and CITs have to pick a camp name to be called while working at camp to that campers don’t find them on social media. While I remembered all the counselors having camp names,

Week after week, I continued to grin and bare it until finally, I reached my last week. As I finally sat down at my last meeting of my last day, I listened to our boss talk about all the positive feedback the camp was getting from both parents and campers. The majority of the girls who came had had the time of their lives. In the end, that was just what made all our suffering worthwhile. I sat and looked around at all the familiar faces I had come to know so well in so little time. I realized I would probably never see most of them again, especially the British counselors, many of whom had never been to America before that summer. Of course I could go back next summer if I wanted to, but it wouldn’t be the same. Everyone would be replaced with a whole new group of people that I would come to know and love then never see again. As these realizations hit me, I started to feel numb. After saying goodbye to everyone, fetching my luggage, and scrubbing off the mold that had started to grow on my shower basket, I slumped over to my mom’s good old gray Kia Sportage. Seeing that familiar car felt like seeing someone from a past life. I had gotten so absorbed in camp that I had almost forgotten that things existed outside it. Camp was like a giant bubble in the middle of nowhere, isolating us from the real