It's storytime, boys and girls. Sort of random. We had a lot of staff issues at camp, as anyone reading my blog at the time is probably aware. Personally, I was always having clashes with an Australian counselor named Debbie. Debbie is a very nice person who has had some pretty awful things happen in her life. She really means well, but she doesn't always think before she says things (who does, really?), and she has a tendency to hold back rather than hurt people's feelings. She's also very outgoing, although maybe not really any more confident than the rest of us. Anyway, we had a nice, explosive blow up during training (Well, as about as explosive as Salli gets.), but it generally developed into a better understanding, and, for reasons that might make sense to the director but don't to anyone else, she was one of my three staff members for our first week of camp. The first week of camp was an, er, adventure. It was over-sized, despite the near-indoctination during training that taught us that we weren't supposed to allow this to happen. (It soon became obvious that this particular rule wouldn't survive in Amazing Grace, but it was a shock that first week.) One of my counselors had been in the country all of three days, and had no training whatsoever. Too of my counselors were just barely eighteen, not yet college students, and, though perfectly nice people, a bit immature. They did their best, I don't blame them, but it was a hectic week. I thought it went rather well, all things considered. So, a few weeks later at a staff meeting Debbie comes out (in the middle of an emotionally-charged conversation that didn't really relate to it) and declares that she had a problem with me telling her to do things at a couple of points, which she didn't think looked good for the church. I could have replied that 1. the church people were telling me to just tell my counselors to do things because 2. they weren't doing it by themselves. I hadn't shared these concerns with the three of them because it was the first week, and I was trying to be understanding. Maybe I should have brought it up, I don't know. At the time, though, I was just devastated. Here I was, after three weeks of camp (week three was a doozy, let me tell you), suddenly learning that a least one of my counselors that very first week had serious (if misguided) complaints with my leadership. She hadn't shared it for three weeks, yet she suddenly thought it was relevant now. I really thought we had a rapport going weeks two and three (okay, so it was rapport under adversity in that case, but week two was really wonderful)—was that just a delusion? I could feel my confidence erroding, in a downward spiral of doubt. Eventually reason re-emerged, and I realised that, again, our problem was mostly miscommunication. It wasn't me (or, at least, not just me), it was just as much everyone else. We all had failings and selective short-sightedness. Honestly compels me to admit that I later learned that counselors shouldn't require constant instructions--maybe I was wrong in how I did it, but I wasn't just expecting too much and taking it out on others. I learned lessons from all of this, most of which I already knew, just hadn't internalized. It was the first time I really understood why some conflict resolution models forbid bringing up the past--this problem should have been communicated back during week one (a major reason I was so hurt was that it hadn't, despite my repeated requests for folks to tell me how I was doing), and dragging it up weeks later added extra layers of emotional baggage to something that began as a difference in perception. It was also a case in which, although the vocalized issue was something not so hard to resolve when both parties explained how it looked from their perspective, that one issue didn't comprise the entire picture. The time between the action in the story and the discussion of it added layers of feelings and other, peripheral problems that not only made the discussion less logical—they needed to be dealt with in their own accord. Too often we handle our conflicts based upon the actions we see and the things we say, not the feelings behind them. Seeing this, I try to explain my feelings, but often the other party doesn't reciprocate and stays on the same old vein. I've just bared my soul, and it hurts when it isn't recognized. That's often why I get so frustrated at gospel choir—I can never get them to address my real concerns. I'm going to have to talk to Sherry sometime, and I know I have to keep my emotions in check if I don't want another lecturing match. (That's what we do, we lecture each other.) But that doesn't mean the feelings are bad—the challenge lies in addressing them without letting them rule. Food for thought, I guess. Should make Mir happy, at least. I am sooo going to be in trouble for spending an hour on this. ~Erin, 1:38 PM Comments: Post a Comment
