Being someone else

Don’t get me wrong; I love to be me. I always enjoy what I do to the extent that I’ve had many bosses actually say to me, “You have too much fun with just about everything,” and if you ask me, that’s just enough fun.

But every now and then, it’s fun to put on a different hat. I’m not one to be anything but me, usually. I wasn’t one who tried on different personalities in high school as many do, and I’ve always been driven enough and had a strong enough sense-of-self and self-awareness that I’ve always been, well, me. But in being me, I like to take on extra responsibilities.

That’s why this week at camp has been my favorite in my four years of being a counselor. I’ve gotten to be others, in addition to me.

I spent the past two days with moments of being Keith (and I’m not done with that), the director of programming, making the schedule for next week. (He said it was an “internship.” From the year before I was a counselor, at age 17, Keith joked that I was going to be his replacement. And it seems that the wheels for me to actually take on a more administrative role next year are in place.)

Tomorrow, I’m Caitlin, the head of the 11 year-olds. As the assistant head, when she leaves, I take a step to my left and become her. Tomorrow, she’s on a field-trip so I am her. (This is the least special of my me-being-not-me week, since this happens for about an hour a day and two full days a summer.)

Friday, I’m Andy, the registrar. He’s riding in the Pan-Mass Challenge this weekend, and every summer since the one before I was a counselor, when he leaves on Friday afternoons, I’m him. I did it already once this summer when work brought him elsewhere, but this is a fun job. It’s two hours of hecticness, trying to keep track of nearly 350 kids making sure everyone goes home where they’re supposed to with whom they’re supposed to, which is a very hard job on Fridays because parents who normally send their kids on the bus pick up their kids.

The funny thing about these jobs, is even though I’m not being me, they are all things that play very much to who I am. When I become someone else, I just pump up an aspect of me that’s already there, be it my love of solving puzzles (making a schedule for 70 counselors and 35 ACs), my inability to take a passive role and therefore my over-active desire to have an active leading role (being in charge of 40 11-year-olds and the staff to go with them), or my anal-retentive attention to details and ability to deal with forty-three questions and ideas at once (just about everything there is to be about being Andy), it is all still me.

(Of course, to physically become Andy, all I need to do is gain half-an-inch, lose a bit of hair, and stay eccentric and Jewish.)

I guess it’s just that, at camp, especially, since I’m so good at being me, I feel like the only time I get a change in scenery is when I’m someone else. It is nice to have a little extra responsibility. And it is quite nice to be trusted enough to be someone else when needed.