Cries of, “I don’t want to be here!” and “Why?” stir the Olin air; restless, kicking tantrums mark the gravel of Middle Path; hands and jowls are left sticky and unwashed after copious amounts of fruit snacks. “Finals,” we grumble, but I see childish beginnings. We’re filling our noggins with knowledge that will ideally lead us to a successful adulthood, but it’s clear that our social graces and customs can’t keep up, rendering us no more than big, hairy kids in a year-long sleepaway camp.
I, like many others, spend my summers as a counselor waving my arms and shout-singing for the sake of the children. And though I am far from the first to draw comparisons between Kenyon and summer camp, it feels especially fitting in this time of desperation to look back on some sun-soaked memories and realize that perhaps we are not so far from happiness as we imagine! There are elements of that childhood escape all around us, let’s check ’em out: