Robyn Hoelle (back to contents)

A three-story wood concoction, with ropes and beams dangling every which way, stands in the middle of a clearing, hemmed on both sides by the Blue Ridge mountain range. They call it the Tower. Marisa dangles from tiny handholds two-thirds of the way up. I’m belaying her from the ground and can see she is having trouble. This is her third attempt, and everyone else in the group has already made it to the top, some of them twice. I dutifully call out suggestions from the ground, but cannot speak Spanish well. The only Spanish word that comes to mind is arriba, and I mutter it under my breath.

I look around at the group, and remember the very first day of camp. The opening activity of the camp was a simple name-learning game, and my “Family” couldn’t seem to pull it together. Two of my girls were elite gymnasts (pre-Olympic level). They were very proud, and didn’t know how to relate to the group socially. Another two of my girls were from a Spanish teen organization, and didn’t speak a word of English. The kids named one of my boys Runt. Not only was he small and a stutterer, but he was young and couldn’t keep up mentally or physically in some activities. One of my boys was a new gymnast. He was rich and had attended private school all his life. Although he seemed sheltered, when he became nervous, he fought back with an attitude. Another boy thought he was straight from the book Outsiders! Brian was tough and dominated the group with threatening, sarcastic remarks. He had only one weakness: a love for basketball. The last two boys in my Family were followers. They watched Brian like a hawk and obeyed every cue. The clan displayed an attitude of superiority to stupid camp stuff like name games. My Family was an enormous challenge for me all week, and now we all stand at the bottom of the tower, watching Marisa.

My most significant experience in the last three years is participating in Spring Blue Ridge, a weeklong Young Men’s Christian Association (YMCA) program.

The YMCA received a donation of $75,000 to use for the benefit of teens. This money began the creation of a new program, Spring Blue Ridge. The beginning was a vision of uniting teens and giving them a positive experience. The project planning got underway with staff recruitment, curriculum development, and schedule projections. A core group of staffers, including myself, curriculum specialists, and teen group leaders all contributed.

After weeks of hard work, the project began to take shape. Our curriculum included trust-building projects, tobacco and drug information activities, self-esteem building activities, sex education, values clarification, and much flexibility for on-site adjustment. We took kids from different backgrounds and every corner of the city. Many of these children raised their own money to attend.

As a Family leader (group counselor) I knew the implementation of the material and hard planning would rely on me. I began to make personal goals for my Family. I wanted to create an environment empowering them to reevaluate their lives and, if needed, enact change.

The day of departure dawned, and the week began. Each night, after tuck-in, the Family leaders met, discussed problems, asked for advice, vented frustrations, and shared little triumphs. These sessions brought the foci of the camp together. The little advances kids made painted a grander picture of progress. Unfortunately, my Family didn’t seem to fit into this larger picture at all.

By the second day of camp, I was absolutely frustrated. Nothing was breaking the ice; the kids just weren’t taking things seriously. I quickly shed expectations of instant Brady Bunch memories and concentrated on each of their individual needs. I spent time with them finding out their histories and learning their motivations. During Family activities, I designated leadership roles to the shyer ones and support roles to domineering group members. I devoted my interactions with them to the purpose of deshelling each Family member and inspiring in each one respect for others.

It was not until later in the week when I detected changes within my group. Once during a basketball tournament, some guys began to hassle Runt. Brian, instead of joining in, picked up the ball and invited Runt to be on his team. Eventually the comfort level of the group reached a point where the group could become serious and benefit from the activities. In a sense they had become a Family. I saw not only an attitude change, but also a change in their understanding of one another.

“Arriba,” I muttered again. Brian, standing near, asked what it meant. “Higher! It means higher in a physical sense as well as a spiritual sense.” Brian considered Marisa a moment and then glanced at the rest of the group. He started yelling “Arriba, arriba, arriba!” Soon the whole group was screaming and Marisa reached the top. Every adult at the ropes complex had tears in their eyes. It was a beautiful moment watching them give Marisa all the support she needed. Marisa triumphantly reached the top in those moments, and so did the rest of the Family.

Witnessing their changes and my faith in these young people has instilled a hope for humanity and a hope that our actions make a difference.

“Arriba, arriba, arriba!”

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