One of our 12 year olds, Adrian, had to tend to his baby, CJ, during one of our weekend trips. He wasn’t a pre-teen dad; in fact, the home economics assignment that landed him the tot-watching gig was designed to thwart teenage pregnancies.
Unlike the bag of flour that I had to carry for health class, these five-pound dolls cry loudly when face down and at random times. To quiet the baby, students need to turn the key in a slot in the baby’s back and hold it there until she cooed, which was anywhere from five to fifteen minutes.
Adrian’s teacher thought about some ways kids would avoid doing the assignment. For instance, she attached his key to his wrist with a bracelet—like the ones people wear at concerts or festivals—that could only be removed by cutting. And for the students that might be tempted to leave the crying baby in the trunk of a car or in a closet for the weekend, she would grade him based on an electronic tally in the baby, which shows how many times he neglected or rough handled the child.
While my once-in-a-lifetime Outward Bound students wouldn’t bring a baby on course, a once-per-month Asheville TAASC student would not question bringing baby CJ (who was originally named “Lefty”) camping with us for the cold October weekend. CJ donned a smile with her onesie while the other students huddled in their down jackets. Like Adrian, CJ sported a bandana and a quiet, calm demeanor. Unlike Adrian, CJ cried often.
On the second morning, Adrian rolled out of his tent and said, “She woke me up at 12, 3, and 6 this morning. My arm was so cold when I had to hold that key.” CJ was fine in her onesie, though.
When it was time to take down the tents, Adrian’s tent-mate, Jules, complained, “Adrian, you need to help me with this. I’ve been doing everything around here!”
Adrian replied, “I need to take care of the baby! Just chill!”
I could hear that home ec teacher admonishing, “Right here, you see, is an important lesson. Even if you think you are in love with your boyfriends or girlfriends, it’s not easy running a household and raising a baby together.”
We went on the Outward Bound ropes course that day and CJ didn’t have the appropriate helmet to go up into the course, so she had to stay on the ground. Adrian went up and trusted someone on the ground to watch his kiddo. All was fine until he was about 60 feet up on a difficult element called the grapevine. Basically, you walk across a cable (while clipped in with short ropes called lobster claws). To help you balance, there are short ropes that hang vertically down from a top cable. They are spread out thirds, so as the first rope is coming to the end, you can reach out and hopefully grab the second one… (I had a great picture of this with a linebacker trying to reach for the second one, but it wouldn't copy for some reason...).
Here's a real photo of it. This person was clipped in to the top cable with lobster claws, but fell and is trying to get back on the bottom cable. He was balancing by holding onto those vertical ropes to get across. (This may be foreshadowing Adrian's story...)
Okay, so CJ was on the ground and Adrian was in the sky (concentrating, by the way). Check. About halfway across, CJ started wailing and Adrian fell. (See picture above.) His lobster claws caught him of course, but he was below the bottom cable and needed to pull himself back up on a wobbly cable that was 60 feet up and suspended between telephone poles.
At this point, the kids on the ground were yelling, “Adrian, we can get CJ up to you!” They decided to hoist her up with a rope that I had attached to my little platform on a telephone pole at the end of the grapevine; I had it there to haul up my small pack of water and snacks while I sat in the high observation seat. (I'm actually in that picture, on the upper righthand side...)
Here's a real photo of it. This person was clipped in to the top cable with lobster claws, but fell and is trying to get back on the bottom cable. He was balancing by holding onto those vertical ropes to get across. (This may be foreshadowing Adrian's story...)
Okay, so CJ was on the ground and Adrian was in the sky (concentrating, by the way). Check. About halfway across, CJ started wailing and Adrian fell. (See picture above.) His lobster claws caught him of course, but he was below the bottom cable and needed to pull himself back up on a wobbly cable that was 60 feet up and suspended between telephone poles.
At this point, the kids on the ground were yelling, “Adrian, we can get CJ up to you!” They decided to hoist her up with a rope that I had attached to my little platform on a telephone pole at the end of the grapevine; I had it there to haul up my small pack of water and snacks while I sat in the high observation seat. (I'm actually in that picture, on the upper righthand side...)
Happily, the kids got to practice their knots with this exercise and tied an excellent noose onto the baby’s neck. (Relax… we don’t really teach them nooses… and if we did we’d teach them much more effective ones than they tied on little CJ…jk.)
They did tie the rope around her neck, though, which worked well for hauling her up to the platform. That baby cried so much that I felt tempted to drop her right back down to the ground. jk. When Adrian finally got over to me, he wrapped his arms around the telephone pole and turned the key in CJ’s back. Although he looked exhausted, he still managed to say, “It’s alright, CJ. Daddy’s here.”
They did tie the rope around her neck, though, which worked well for hauling her up to the platform. That baby cried so much that I felt tempted to drop her right back down to the ground. jk. When Adrian finally got over to me, he wrapped his arms around the telephone pole and turned the key in CJ’s back. Although he looked exhausted, he still managed to say, “It’s alright, CJ. Daddy’s here.”
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2 comments:
I don't know that this teaches teenagers not to have kids so much as not to bring them on camping trips with ropes courses. Just saying...
Yes, I think that Adrian learned an important lesson. Hopefully he won't bring any of his REAL kids on our TAASC trips.
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