The first week of college is summer camp. The second is back to reality. When I arrived on campus a little over a week ago, I never imagined going from name-games to essays in a blink.

My college has a week of orientation, so it never really felt like school until I walked into Geology on Tuesday morning. Before that, I had been watching movies with other freshmen, exploring—well, really getting lost in—the campus, and trying every imaginable ice cream combination at the dining halls.

From the moment I walked into my class, I realized I can’t just watch movies and eat ice cream for the next four years. Buying textbooks before the class was its own problem—really, if a book is used, shouldn’t it be dirt cheap, not just a fraction less expensive than the new version?—but being in a room filled with strangers, most not naïve first years like me, was unnerving.

In high school, the first day was one of my favorites. Sure, I hated knowing I had a year of work ahead of me, but I loved seeing old friends, catching up on summer gossip. Here, I sat down and immediately started taking notes. What part of this lecture was important enough to write down? Who was the person sitting next to me? Was I allowed to raise my hand to ask a question? Read More »

A recent New York Times article tells parents to “Please Relax, It’s Just Camp.” It details the fact that parents are WAY too involved in their child’s summer camp experience and are constantly calling and meddling. And yes, the NYT is correct. It is just camp. And parents do need to relax.

However, these parents are sending their children away to live with absolute strangers during some of the child’s most crucial developmental years. I can see how it could be difficult and extremely frightening. But, I think I’m solid proof that, while camp can be a scary place, it’s generally not life-damaging.

During middle school I went to summer camp at one of those camps on a lake with an insanely cheery name. (You know the type, “Happy Valley” or “The Best Place on Earth.” Barf.) At this particular camp, we were NOT allowed to talk to our parents, no matter what. Of course, cell phones didn’t really exist, but parents were told not to call the camp unless of an emergency and even if they called, we were never allowed to speak to them. We did a little thing called writing letters. Remember that? Read More »

A few summers ago, I worked as a CIT at a day camp I had attended as a child. You’d think that going to work at a place that was a major part of your childhood would be pretty awesome, but those eight weeks proved to be an utter disaster. I try not to think about it and, so far, I’ve been fairly successful at suppressing those memories.

But this article in the New York Times reminded me of a particularly nasty piece of work I encountered during my counseling duties that summer. She was the mother of two abnormally hyper and mischievous twin boys who I had to supervise on the bus every morning and afternoon. Frankly, the kids were easier to deal with than this woman. She makes the helicopter mothers mentioned in the article appear to be merely “concerned.”

In addition to supervising a group of kids at the camp, my older brother and I were bus counselors on the vehicle that transported campers in our area. Every morning as the bus approached her house, the crazy woman would come outside wearing her pink, flowery robe and greet us with a sickeningly sweet smile, only to go completely apesh*t on us that afternoon. She would yell at us the moment we pulled up, blaming us if she got a call that day from the camp about her devil spawns’ misbehavior.

I’m pretty sure she was bipolar, because one moment she would be calm, and the next she would be screaming like a banshee about how the camp was lying about her boys’ behavior and how we should be fired for not doing our job. She called the camp director just about every day to complain about us and the lousy job the boys’ group counselors were doing. I fought the urge to tell her that her parenting was the problem, not our performance. Read More »

Jessica Simpson, go home!

Brooke Hogan thinks a lady president would have too many PMS problems

You too can look good in a swimsuit

Mormon Boys Gone Wild!

I like jeans, but at least I’m not a crazy compulsive shopper, like this girl

Does anyone care about Ebay anymore?

I hated summer camp too, friend

This picture makes me shudder…I don’t know why

How to make yourself 20% more attractive

Danika Patrick gets pissed off at the racetrack

Traumatise your baby with weird sh*t

The Atkins diet, for realz?

It took them 4 years to decide Janet’s “wardobe malfunction” was no big deal.