Day camp

I caught a glimpse of Arthur, the summer camp’s owner, driving a small white golf cart crammed with a family sitting in its back seat. He was giving a prospective family a tour of our camp.
While my friends went to sleep-away camps scattered throughout the northeast, I was home at a local day camp. Many students like to relax, catch up on sleep and travel for the summer, but not me. I actually sleep less in the summer than during the school year. That summer, I had the pleasure of working with a mature 10-year-old group. My 16 boys were exceptionally athletic, listened well and got along with each other. I’ll never forget this summer because not only did my group have fun, I truly made a difference in two of my campers’ lives.
Halfway through July, Jeremy and Charlie, twins from New York City, stepped off the van. They looked somber. “What’s wrong, buddy?” I asked Charlie. “My mom died this weekend of stomach cancer,” he answered. I was stunned. How could these two little boys go on with the rest of their lives knowing that they will never see their mother again? At first I didn’t know what to say. Charlie told me that at the hospital he was talking to his mom but she could not hear him or respond. Hearing that, my eyes began to fill. I wanted to do more than just comfort them because I knew comfort wasn’t enough. I made an extra effort to get them more involved in activities.
The last day of camp, Charlie and Jeremy’s dad gave me a card that read: “Thank you so much for providing my sons with a wonderful summer and helping them get through this incredibly hard time in their lives.” I knew then that I’d learned something that matters: I belong working with kids.

Daniel Villanueva is a senior at Clarkstown High School North in New City, N.Y.

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