Summer Camp Juggling

I just finished teaching a five-day juggling course. It ended yesterday. It went like this:

Every summer, the West Chester Friends School offers several weeks of day-camp activities -- for their year 'round students and other kids from the neighborhood. The Camp provides an opportunity for the students to stay connected over the summer with their fellow students and their teachers, who form the core of the Camp adult staff.

And many of you know that the School gym is where our just-for-fun juggling group, the Turks Head Jugglers, practice twice a week. At no charge. And some of you know that I'm a member of the Board of the School. So with all that interconnectivity, it's made perfect sense that I should conduct a juggling course for the Day Camp.

I love to do this, in part because it gives me a chance to bring out all my juggling props for the kids to work with: scarves, balls, rings, clubs, Chinese yo-yo's, flower sticks, spinning plates, contact balls, poi swings, chatter rings, and... oh, I'm sure I've forgotten two or three things...

Anyway, last year, my group was comprised of five boys, each of whom had a rather different agenda for being there -- and it took quite a good deal of energy on my part to keep everyone focused and having fun. It was gratifying and I enjoyed it, but it was tiring. And that was last year, when I was in good physical shape.

This year, I committed in the spring to doing the same course, but started to get serious reservations as my cancer therapies started to kick in: would I have the energy? would it be foolish to handle props with a bunch of kids while my immune system is so compromised?

I knew I could simply call Leslie (the Camp Director) at the School and tell her please to cancel the course. There would be some disappointment and lost revenue to the School, but no recriminations and a complete understanding. If you feel you can't or shouldn't, well, that's what you feel. That's the way things work at West Chester Friends School.

But I really really wanted to do this. Not just because I love to watch kids learn to juggle. Not just because I love to help them get that next trick. Not just because I feel a deep sense of gratitude to the School for sponsoring the Turks Heads. Not just because I wanted to help the School's revenue stream. Not just because the kids I would work with are some of the most wonderful kids I've ever met.

All of that to be sure, but it's come to me lately that my teaching juggling feels like a true Calling. And by doing the course, I would underline and reinforce a vital part of my path to recovery: I am more than my disease. And I will not allow the disease to bring me to a halt. And I plan to be here long after my disease has left.

Leslie found two teenagers -- both of whom had been students at the School and both of whom juggled pretty well -- to act as assistants for the course. And, since I had to bail out of several sessions during the week, this proved to be a vitally important part of the course's success.

And the class turned out to be five perfectly charming girls. Each of whom was amazingly self-confident and self-directed, patient, helpful, enthusiastic, and co-operative. (Interesting occurrence: When initially handing out juggling scarves, I asked them: "Okay, who wants a pink scarf?" and none of them wanted one! None of them! Special girls? I guess so!)

In short, I could not have asked for a better situation. Leslie provided the adult supervision to augment the two teenagers' work and everything fell into line.

From Monday on, we had aimed at doing a brief show for our fellow campers and parents on Friday. And by Friday, each of the girls had identified specific props that they wanted to use. As a group, we laid out how we wanted the show to go-- who would use which props and what tricks they would demonstrate; what the performance order would look like; what they would say to introduce themselves and their performances; and yes, they would bow to the audience when they were done.

And everything went beautifully on Friday afternoon. Leslie and I just sat against the wall and watched as the girls went "on-stage," one after the next, and did a lovely job. Each of the two teenage assistants had a support role in making the girls look good, and they did just fine as well. Some of the tricks, it might be said, were not all that impressive to the audience, but a number of tricks elicited genuine "Wow!" from their fellow campers and parents.

It was a wonderful moment.

I wouldn't have missed it for the world.