dances at camp

There is a discotech (a dance, outside) every night, and the kids can use their tokens to pay for songs they want. The 16-year-old boys take turns requesting “Du Hast.” They are very happy because they have come up with what teenaged boys love: a successful social routine with their best friends. As the song begins, they put their arms around each other’s shoulders and bow to the waist. Then, they headbang in unison. Vot! Automatic coolness.

I go to the discotechs sit with the counselors or dance with the kids. I spent about half an hour dancing with a 4th grade girl who didn’t want to join a circle, and then moved on to the 6th graders who are considerably less innocent than the American 6th graders I last dealt with (and far, far less innocent than my Gymnasium students). The slow dances are kind of pathetic. All of the girls are a foot taller than the boys. The campers seem to think you’re supposed to make as much surface-area contact as possible, rest your head somewhere on your partner, and kick each other in the shins. And they all look kind of worried while they’re doing it, too.