Jennifer Orr - Rating Your Bunkmates and Other Camp Crimes

Sunday, June 26, 9:47 a.m.

Somewhere on Highway 101

Propulsion toward either crowning achievement or inescapable calamity. For the first time ever, Im going to summer camp. Mom predicts success. She cranes her neck around the passengers seat headrest and recites all the benefits of sleepaway campfireside sing-alongs, collaborative games, cozy cabins. All designed to promote healthy girl bonding, she says.

Dad points out the scientific merits of camp: quiet hikes for studying nature, a rugged environment similar to that of an archaeological dig, and food cooked over an open flame. He catches my eye in the rearview mirror and says, Like one giant Bunsen burner, Abigail.

As my parents chat about their own fond memories of summer camp, I begin writing field notes to document my experiences over the next week. Like a real anthropologist, a scientist who studies people, I plan to use these notes to help me with my ongoing experiment: finding a friend.

I appreciate my parents sunny attitudes. They are my biggest cheerleaders in all my endeavors, both scientific and social. I, too, am trying to keep a positive outlook on my upcoming week at Camp Hollyhock. Despite research that shows that my agetwelveis the optimal age for camp, Im worried my attempts to forge yet another friendship could easily mimic the results of past experiments complete and utter failure. No matter how hard I try, I cant seem to successfully befriend a girl my age. Its like Im helium, physically unable to mix with any other chemical element. Bonding with girls my age just doesnt seem part of my atomic makeup.

Evidence of my inability to make friends first emerged seven years ago, during the Playdate Experiment. I brought my favorite rocks to a playdate Mom had arranged with a girl from my kindergarten class. Lainey suggested we build fairy houses with my rocks. I told her fairies didnt exist. She said they did. Like any good scientist, I demanded proof. She pulled out some treasures the fairies had left under her pillow. I examined them closely, borrowing Laineys magnifying glass for precise study. On the miniature fairy wand, I pointed out a small engraving in the wood. Made in China. Lainey collapsed into tears, and I was never invited back.

Shortly after this experiment, I was moved up to the first grade. At the end of the school year, my teacher recommended that I skip second grade completely. Experiencing the third grade as a six-year-old wasnt a successful social experiment. Neither was the year I left behind my elementary peers and skipped straight to middle school, where all my requests for playdates were declined with hysterical laughter.

1. Mother-Daughter Book Club:

   Apparently the book part of this club was merely a suggestion. I presented a thoughtful twenty-minute slideshow presentation on Madeleine LEngles A Wrinkle in Time. Nobody, except for Mom, who is always up for a lively debate on time travel, seemed interested in discussing the bookor anything else, for that matterwith me.

2. Bay Area Fencing Ice Cream Social:

   As an avid fencer, I had high hopes for this event. But while I was enjoying a perfect spoonful of whipped cream, chocolate sauce, and ice cream, Lola Brown asked me to show her my lunging techniques. Astonished, I swallowed the frozen treat too quickly, resulting in sphenopalatine ganglioneuralgia. Through the searing head pain, I managed to tell her, Absolutely not. What if she used my moves against me in a future match? The social coordinator laughed off my report that Lola was a possible spy, and I was forced to take my ice cream to go. Im not sure how friendly you can be with someone you will eventually fight with a saber, anyway.

Though these results are disappointing, I continue with my efforts. I dont want to end up like helium, so self-satisfied with my full shell of electrons that I dont need to bond with any other element. Floating by yourself forever seems quite sad and lonely. Since I dont wish this type of existence for myself, I carry on with my experiments. After all, thats what we do in science. Change the variables. See how the results will change. This time, Im changing the environment.

My educational environment has never been adequate for making friends. Because I skipped three grades, I now attend the local high school instead of the middle school. At first I thought I would be able to bond with these older students because my social interests are as advanced as my academic ones. But alas, I have been unable to find high-school students who enjoy discussing anthropology, time travel, or French cuisine.

So I had to start looking elsewhere. My research shows that summer camp might be a more ideal place for me to meet lifelong friends. At Camp Hollyhock, Ill get to live, eat, and mingle with girls my age every day. Well bond while crafting, hiking, and singing. Like Mom said, my chances of successfully socializing should improve in conditions specifically engineered to promote female friendship.

My goal is to finally have made a friend by the end of the week. I just know French movie marathons, warm chocolate croissants, and slumber parties will be so much better with a companion.

1. How do I avoid the mistakes made in previous experiments?

2. How do I find a friend who is the right match for me?

Carefully study the girls, just like a real anthropologist, so I can better understand how to correctly approach someone with an offer of friendship.

Establish standards for evaluating whether any of my fellow campers would be appropriate candidates for potential friendship.