Lava* Loner

Part 2 of being an outcast

There is a reason why I’m telling these outcast stories, and it’s not meant to be about ‘poor me’. It is my hope that by the end of part three, I can weave together the overlapping threads from these experiences into something more consequential. In the meantime, to me it feels both vulnerable and powerful to cast a light on these situations that for me, felt pretty awful.

A few years ago I signed up to help lead a group of teen girls on a five-day camping experience on our local volcano, Mount St.Helens. It’s a really cool experience where the teachers, the scientists, the students and the staff are all female and we explore the geology of the area together.

Three of us were teachers who had applied and had been selected to be in charge of a small group of teen girls. In the job description it said we needed to be able to hike with twenty-five pounds in our daypack because we’d be hiking in our rations and the emergency radio. So I started walking around my neighborhood with a backpack full of weights, slowly adding more weight over the weeks.

I’d add water bottles over time.

When the camp experience actually started, I met my group of girls. One of the girls immediately gave me some attitude and while it was tempting to put her in her place in front of the other gals (and establish my authority) I chose to instead meet her with grace…you know, side-step the snark.

Gaining compliance through intimidation and power dynamics is easy, but gaining compliance through respect is healthier for everyone. It models for youth that their need for respect can be achieved through connection, honesty and compassion; but it requires playing the long game. So for a first impression, these girls might think I lack self-respect, but they’d be wrong.

The first activity we did was to walk through some caves. One of the most empathetic girls in my group has an auditory condition that made keeping balance in the dark difficult, so I held onto her for the duration of the cave hike as she wobbled along.

Each of the three groups, led by a teacher, had their own canvas tent to sleep in. That first night, my girls were spent, and ready to sleep. Next door to us however was the teacher Liz’s group and those girls were still full of energy! We patiently endured their singing as we tried to fall asleep, eventually succeeding.

The next day we continued driving around the volcano. At one point the head of our caravan stopped for a dead snake in the road. Because we were stopped in the middle of the road, I panicked when I realized that there was a car waiting behind us that wasn’t part of our group. I put the vehicle into gear before the van door was shut and the door slid and closed on one of my girl’s toes! It was the gal with the attitude, but she took it with a lot of grace..probably because whatever she endured to get the attitude is also what made her strong and persevering. I felt like a jerk, of course, watching her toenail blacken.

The second night found my girls to be the ones with all the energy and Liz’s girls craving some sleep. One of my girls came out of the tent, found me and asked me to intervene between the two groups. Talking through our tent I explained to Liz’s girls that the previous night we wanted sleep but gave them grace because we didn’t want to dampen their spirits. I asked them to give us some grace in return. Then I asked my own girls to remember what it felt like trying to sleep through the singing and for them to tap into that compassion and lower their volume. They did.

I thought that went alright, but in hindsight.. I don’t know if it was because I injured a student’s toe, or because I wasn’t in the tent at all times with the girls or because I didn’t insist my girls go silent..but this might have been a turning point for how Liz felt towards me.

The next day was the big hike in the hot sun, the one I trained for. I was surprised to find out that I was the only teacher that was doing the big hike. The other two were staying below with the girls that also didn’t want to hike. That meant I was loaded up with the first aid pack and the heavy radio. I was the slowest person at the very back of the line of scientists and students. It was hard, but I did it.

When we got back to camp, I felt nauseous from the hike’s sun exposure. I slipped into the van for some quiet time. I never felt it was odd to leave my girls when at camp because with all of the scientists and staff there, I think there were more adults than teens and we were all staying within sixty feet of one another.

Liz noticed my absence however, and brought a staff member to my van. When explaining what I was doing there, my act of self care suddenly seemed to come off as slacking.

After that, I kept hearing my name mentioned by other adults and not in a positive tone.

The next day someone said in a sort of scoffing way “Rachel’s still not here yet” (while the other pointed out that I was a few feet away). I heard my name three more times with a similar vibe. It finally occurred to me that they thought I was the weak link, which I found both bewildering and unfair.

Finally it came to a head when we were at the museum. I wandered around with my girls but wanted a little solitude with the volcano so I told the girls I’d be right outside on the patio looking at the view.

Sure enough I heard someone say my name. It was Liz. She was saying ‘Now where is Rachel?!’ and was looking for me!

Because we were outside and because there were other staff around whom I wanted to hear my message, I shouted “WHY IS MY NAME IN SO MANY PEOPLE’S MOUTH?! IF YOU HAVE SOMETHING TO SAY TO ME, SAY IT TO MY FACE!’

Liz said with a tone of exasperation ‘Your girls are inside!’

I said (still rather loudly:)

‘I KNOW. THEY ARE FORTY-FIVE FEET AWAY FROM ME.

WHAT ARE WE AFRAID OF? KIDNAPPING?

I’VE TAUGHT THIS AGE GROUP FOR 17 YEARS.

GIVE THEM SOME SPACE TO GROW.’

Liz stormed back inside.

That felt good.

Finally on our return trip, I made one more mistake to confirm any misgivings folk had of me. We missed our exit and my van showed up 15 minutes late.

But before this last nail in my coffin, I was the one that realized the teacher caravan was going in the wrong direction on the mountain and got us going in the right direction.

I was the one that had a heart-to-heart with the teen who had come in strong with attitude. Now she was in the passenger seat telling me where her defenses came from and I was giving some pointers on how to let those walls down.

I was the one who hiked the trail in the heat, carrying the gear.

I was the one who supported a sensory-imbalanced teen for nearly a mile underground.

I was the one who taught the staff how to implement a more trauma-informed approach.

Yes, I biffed it a couple of times..but I was also clearly knocking it out of the park in other areas.

Where was the grace when I failed? Where was the celebration when I succeeded?

What was Liz getting out of spotlighting my [perceived] weaknesses?

Why were other members so quick to join in turning against me?

I think I know the answers to these questions.

Do you?

If we want to establish a true community around us, we need to understand our own needs, the needs of one another and seek to prioritize everyone getting their needs met and not at the expense of one another.

Next time: Part 3 where I try to answer these questions and find empathy from an unlikely source.

*The geologists I learned from would cringe if they saw the title to this story since lava wasn’t part of the eruption; ash and rock were.

Note: The Geogirls program is an incredible opportunity for teen girls and educators. While I only focused on the dark side of my experience here, I walked away with so much awe and insight into what a change agent a volcano can be. I met some really awesome folk too. Furthermore, the program was super receptive to my feedback and have now implemented a daily 2 hour break for the educators to rest and connect with one another. I think that would have helped a lot!