My First Time Away From Home

I had never been away from home or experienced any independence until the seventh grade. After my seventh grade exams, my parents decided to send me away to a camp for a couple of days. I did not like the idea a bit, albeit some assurance that the experience was to help me develop crucial life skills.

A bus came to pick me plus a bunch of other kids at 2.00 PM. Most of the other kids were in cliques, all merry and shouting. I sat alone near the window; nobody talked to me, I was all alone, completely ambivalent about the whole process.

Fortunately, the cliques were banned as soon as we reached the camp. And my sigh of relief came when we were randomly grouped into. Generally, the first day was the worst, mostly because I did not know anyone, so I mostly kept to myself. Then, everything seems off, the beddings, and every other thing seemed off. I guess we just have our own way of exaggerating stuff if we don’t feel in place. The first night was equally horrible, I hated the beddings and the smell, but mostly I missed the comfort of my bed. That night I lay awake, thinking of the excuses I could make to have my parents take me out of this place. At some point, I reassured myself that this was only a nightmare, and I would wake up in my bed, but I didn’t.

However, Things got better with time, I got to meet someone from my school, and some other kids from my group who were very kind. At some point, we had to be friends because we did things in groups. I was there for six days, five hours of group activities every day, a guidance course, and then entertainment in the evenings. I learnt a lot of crucial life skills. Most importantly, I appreciated the value of teamwork.

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