Conscientious observer.

Last summer, I had my first experience as a camp director for a day camp for young ladies aged five to fourteen. The staff was a combination of young college students, teachers, mothers, and professionals - all female. Our camp was located in a public park in the San Francisco Bay area and that is where my very unique learning experience began.

Suspect at Large

One Friday afternoon, a helicopter began circling above our camp site. Some fifteen minutes later, from the parking lot down the hill, I heard one of my staff shouting my name. I sprinted down the hill to find the parking lot filled with police cars. I was quickly approached by an officer who said, "A woman has been raped in this park, and the suspect is still at large." I looked at her with disbelief and shock.

"Did you see anything unusual around here this morning?" the officer asked.

I remembered that earlier in the day I was with a staff member discussing our all camp lunch event when we were startled by a loud voice at the other end of the parking lot. An athletic looking man in running gear was shouting, "I'm the man!" and doing a victory dance, something similar to what an athlete might do after winning. I surveyed everything and turned back to continue my conversation, confirming with my colleague the odd behavior of the runner.

"Did you see anything unusual here this morning?" the officer asked again. I explained what I had seen and gave her a full description of the gentleman, from head to toe, including the color of his socks. She was very thankful and praised me for my detailed observance. After searching the area, the police swiftly exited, and I was left with a camp full of women and girls - and a serial rapist at large.

Precautionary Measures

I quietly informed the staff that we would finish the closing activities with the whole camp together. I asked each staff member to make sure campers went to the restroom in groups of four or more. The campers were inquisitive, and we informed them that the police were looking for someone who was missing.

That evening, as the parents came to pick up the girls, they drove into a parking lot full of television crews and police cars, bloodhounds and reporters. As each parent walked toward the field, my assistant director and I intercepted them, explained what had happened, and reassured them everyone was okay.

At our staff meeting that evening, the staff were exemplary. They were calm and collected as they discussed their fears and made a game plan for our last week at camp. That night I drove home buried in the weight of the day. How could this happen in such a lovely park filled with the laughter of children? How could such a positive atmosphere be daunted so quickly? And I cried. This could have been one of my kids, my staff, myself.

On Monday morning, I came prepared with alarm whistles in tow. Campers checked in as usual. A couple of parents inquired about our precautionary measures, learning of the event on every local news station over the weekend. At our opening ceremony, I went over the rules, making no mention of the event but confirming strict guidelines as to where one could or could not go. Then it was camp as usual - unusual as it felt.

A couple of weeks later, the rapist was caught. He was a track coach at a local high school and an avid runner. If this was the same person, he was within 200 yards of my camp on the day of the crime. This thought still invades my dreams at night.

Keeping a Watchful Eye

As a camp director, I make it my business to be very aware of my camp's surroundings. I know which cars belong to who, who is walking around the neighboring camp sites, who is on the park maintenance staff, and exactly which campers have a tendency to roam.

I encourage every camp administrator, young and old, seasoned or new, whether you run a large camp, small camp, day or resident camp to be reminded that you are the eyes, ears, and nose of camp. Don't let a day go by without knowing the who, what, where, when, and why of everything or everyone on your campground. Anything that feels or looks out of place, probably is. You claim responsibility for the safety of everyone on your side of the camp gate, and it only takes one crooked spoke to destroy the entire bicycle.