Note(s) to Self: On Planning Your Week-Long Program

Hello all! The past few weeks have been a whirlwind of activity at the Greater Denton Arts Council, as I continue to work on internal research while also preparing for Summer Arts Camp! Camp starts Monday, and I am honestly having a hard time thinking of anything outside of that program. I am in charge of planning, prepping, and facilitating the Visual Arts Camp, and I am SO excited because I am getting to facilitate a program I have been wanting to do for the longest time - Art Scouts! This week, my kiddos will become Art Scouts, earning (and making) their own badges through independent learning opportunities and team building exercises, all culminating in a huge group "camp site" installation in Festival Hall on Friday (complete with cabins, campfires, tents, trees, a river, and a kayak!). A dream come true.

While I am beyond thrilled to be in charge of this program, the past few weeks have been some of the busiest and, honestly, most difficult I've ever had. From worrying about budget to writing countless lesson plans to coordinating donated recyclables to sourcing and budgeting cheap (but durable) supplies, the past few weeks have emphasized the simultaneous importance and irrelevance of planning for these types of programs. By irrelevance, I mean what any seasoned teacher will say: plan plan plan as much as you can, and you won't use most of it. I am the type of person who likes to be over-prepared for things, which can be a challenge when enrollment fluctuates and all my careful preparations from months ago seem to go up in glittery smoke.

In the spirit of planning, being scatterbrained, and wanting to get a multitude of ideas out there into the ether, I decided to spend the rest of my post jotting down some things I have learned in the last few weeks:

Notes to Self:

1. Pay attention to the allotted time for your event. Pay close attention to it. Observe it. Grow comfortable with it. Then crumple it up in a tight ball in your fist and throw it into the corner with an exasperated sigh.  Does the schedule say that you have a long, luxurious hour and a half with your sweet cherry blossoms? In the real world, that hour and a half is more like one hour, between late arrivals and early pick-ups, clean-up time and walking time. Factor in potty breaks for wee ones, and you're looking at more like 45 minutes. But you can't just plan a 45 minute activity, because then you run the risk of everyone arriving and leaving on time and you being left with nothing to do for 45 minutes except watch the children slowly descend into sticky anarchy. Instead, plan an activity that will SCALE well. Bare bones, it can be finished in 30 minutes. Add a couple of layers, and you've filled your time well and the children haven't gone all Lord of the Flies on one another. When in doubt, always have a picture book in your back pocket and practice your silly and dramatic reading voices. (And go get your crumpled schedule from the corner - you're going to need that!)
2. When you volunteer to handle the calls for and picking-up of insane amounts of cardboard (seriously, I could build a house with this stuff), make sure you pay attention to the type of car you drive. Let's just say my eyes were bigger than my Escape's trunk, and there were bungee cords involved.
3. The dollar store is your greatest ally and your most feared foe. Use its powers wisely. Whatever you do, do NOT buy dollar store tape (masking, duct, etc.) if you intend to have children make large-scale structures that you actually, you know, what to stay together. Trust me. Splurge on the tape, if nothing else. 
4. Mind the ghost in the corner. (his name is the Solitary Sentinel - look him up!)
5. Second-guess the canoe, but go for the kayak!
6. When accounting for materials prep time, use your imagination to first figure out the longest it could possibly take to finish all the prep work. Do you have a number in your head? Good. Now add six hours and five blisters and continue planning from there. I hope you remembered your caffeine!
7. Say your program has a maximum registration of fifteen. Registration's been going for a while, and you think you've hit your maximum at ten. People haven't registered in several days, so you think you have your number. You buy materials enough to cover the ten people who have registered, right? WRONG. Always prep for the maximum number of children allowed to register for the program or you will be sorry. Very, very sorry. (I'm sorry, fingers! I'm sorry!)
8. Look down at your cute, adorable, new, museum-y, artsy shoes. Heave a wistful sigh, smile to yourself, wave, and kick them across the room to rest with the remains of your poor crumpled schedule. Wear your comfortable shoes unapologetically.
9. In the event that a large group of vivacious, curious, hilarious children wants to know why they can't play with the beautiful hand-made chess set in the gallery... Just go ahead and admit that you want to as well and then make them all jealous by telling them you got to touch it when installing the exhibition and the pieces are all really light and smooth. 

Currently, I am laying on the couch with my feet propped up in the air, sore and dusty from a day of hard work. I made 20 kid-sized, donated, recyclable, foldable cardboard cabins today. Twenty!

I could choose to be grumpy and whiny about my throbbing feet right now, but I'm just so excited I can't stand it. The above list really feels like a mere fraction of my experience with GDAC in the past few weeks, and I approach the coming week of camp with trepidation and enthusiasm. Just picture me in my old scouts uniform, practicing bird calls and teaching kids to tie all kinds of fun knots!