Deb and I were asked to teach a writing camp the first week of August. The participants would be younger than what we were used to, but the camp is called The Magic of Writing. Who could turn that down?
Again, we were asked, so someone had enough confidence in us, in our writing backgrounds, in our teaching abilities, to extend the invitation.
“The camp is 30 kids maximum,” we were told. Between the two of us— piece of chocolate. Or taffy. Or a butter beer. “We can do this,” we excitedly told one another.
Then why did we need such encouragement in our dialogue? Because the participants were grades 6-8. We teach grade 12.
No need to fear! Within the canon of our writing we found enough arsenal. We just needed to simplify. A teacher, a human, certainly two mothers who’d each raised four children (reasonably successful children),— we could could do this.
The Magic of Writing camp also has a Harry Potter-esque feel-even though we can’t use the trademarked names and places. I like the whole Harry Potter culture, will eventually get to Harry Potter land (or not), but I would be grossly inadequate in teaching a Harry Potter writing camp.
Since we would be working with children, we would have to go through multiple security safeguards. Much appreciated. We also had to go through an elaborate online application process. I signed up to be an instructor for The Magic of Writing camp but Deb erroneously signed up for a ballroom dance instructor position. Weeks into the hiring process, she hadn’t received the necessary documents to be officially hired. She also was never hired as a ballroom dance instructor.
When it was time to turn in all of our automobile details to receive a parking pass (more elaborate vetting process than a Supreme Court judge nomination), my car was parked at the airport for a week.
When Deb went in for her personal interview, she sat in the office of the writing camp CEO and told her how beautiful the large painting was of the old Getman village in winter. “Where is it?” Deb (an instructor who was supposed to be teaching a Harry Potter based writing camp) asked.
“Hogwarts.”
Deb quickly called me so I would be prepared to say “Oh what a great painting of Hogwarts. I love Harry Potter too.”
As we are just two days away from the start of The Magic of Writing (I’m still in California) and if they are worried about our competence— we’re even. It appears there’s been a bait and switch on both sides.
Remember the promise of thirty students? We are up to 59. The cap is now 60.
“This will be so much fun,” we tell each other each day. And we mean it.
Because we both believe in the magic of writing. We get to spend a week with sixty children who signed up for writing camp. Definitely magic.
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