The Chore Chart
Denise showed me a clipboard.
It contained the camp’s rotating chore schedule.
Sweeping.
Washing dishes.
Cleaning tables.
Carrying supplies.
Every camper was expected to help.
But Mia’s name appeared beside certain chores again and again.
“She volunteers whenever someone else hesitates,” Denise explained.
“She always says she doesn’t mind.”
I looked across the field.
Mia was laughing with two girls near the cabins.
“But what’s wrong with helping?”
“Nothing,” Denise replied.
“Helping is wonderful. That’s not the problem.”
She pointed at the chart.
“The problem is that Mia doesn’t seem capable of letting anyone help her.”
I didn’t understand.
Then Denise told me about the horseback trail.
It had been the activity Mia had been looking forward to more than anything else.
She’d talked about it for months.
But one day, another camper missed the registration deadline.
There were no spaces left.
The girl became upset.
And Mia immediately gave her own place away.
No hesitation.
No argument.
She simply told the girl she could have it.
“She said she’d already had plenty of good things,” Denise explained.
My heart sank.
Because I knew exactly where that attitude had come from.
