On one particularly sweltering day at camp a
particularly dramatic second grader named Macie was playing in the sandbox. She
played a game with herself in which she would bury her sandal and dig it up
again, marveling at her find. I wondered what might happen if she buried the
shoe so deep that she couldn’t find it again. I soon found out.
The challenge of Macie’s game was
to bury the shoe deeper and deeper until she buried it so far down that she
couldn’t find it again. Her precious sandal was lost in the sandbox. The sun
hid behind the clouds and the sandbox was shadowed in darkness. My heart sunk
as she promptly began to cry, blubbering that her mother would be upset with
her if she came home with only one shoe. I immediately began digging, trying to
unearth the shoe before she erupted into a tantrum. I tried to find it, but due
either to my inferior burrowing skills or my unwillingness to become too sandy,
I was unable to find her shoe. Macie burst into tears, and continued to cry
even after I had exhausted all of my methods of child-soothing. Although meltdowns
were not a rare occasion, my temper was short and my tap of patience was
completely dry. In a desperate attempt to enlist the other campers in my
search, I announced that a piece of candy would be awarded to the camper who
could find the shoe. After being enticed, all of the campers ran over to the
sandbox to help, and I was overwhelmed by a dozen pairs of feet came trampling
through the sand and a dozen pairs of tiny hands began digging. Violence broke
out as digging and trampling turned into kicking and scratching, in a desperate
attempt to find the shoe first. More girls joined Macie in crying. The
situation was worse than before and it was completely my fault.
The shoe was quickly found and
Macie was somewhat appeased by its return, but I needed to damage-control on a
major scale to undo all of this chaos. I distributed candy to all who had
participated, and once everyone had their Jolly Ranchers, the sun came back out
and order was restored.
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