The kids were very prone to violence.
One kid threatened to fight with another facilitator and stormed off with 4 other boys without my foreknowledge nor permission. I was struggling to control my panic after noticing that a quarter of my charges were gone. After I found him, I counselled him and wanted him to apologise, all the while controlling my anger.
'But, I don't like saying sorry and almost never say it,' he whined and pouted.
As his punishment, I made him gather the rest of the class around me. It was a mistake, one that I shouldn't have made. He actually went about collecting the guys, punching those who refused to obey him. Nightmare.
Another guy went absolutely nutty, clutching the left arm of a poor kid. 'May I break his arm? May I?' He asked so politely and seriously while tears pooled at the corners of his eyes. His friends giggled at his sombre tone and the British accent that his voice affected. The whole scenario was so bizarre and disturbing that I have no idea what to make of it, be it now or then.
He was also the guy who stood in a corner and cried during the camp for no rhyme and reason.
Then, there were games.
Games, games. It should be safe, shouldn't it?
Turned out that one guy slapped another when the latter refused to participate. Slap. One tight slap across the cheek. For refusing to participate.
I wasn't so nefarious when I was younger, so violent and aggressive. (I hoped.) Such violence and aggression!
From the camp, I learnt. Kids, nowadays, are genuinely spoiled with overworked parents who have little time for them. Teachers have to scream and shout to bring their point across. Come to think of it, the teachers, like parents, are overworked.
Some kids were really sweet and precocious, but the bulk of them were little terrors.