About that Retreat...

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This entry was originally going to be entitled, “Why I Hate Youth.” Those of you who have never been a leader on a youth retreat may be wondering about this newfound resentment. Let me explain:


I finished teaching a 3-hour class on Friday night around 9, and I was completely exhausted. The retreat had already started, so I grabbed some stuff and headed out around 11 to the retreat center in Chupaca. (Yes, it sounds exactly like the Star Wars character.) When I got there (remember, still really tired), Stephanie informed me that we were the only two adults staying in the girls’ dormitory. Worse, we found out that someone—specifically, one of the screaming horde of teenage girls running through the halls—had taken the key to the front door.



The key allows the door to be dead-bolted, effectively locking everyone in for the night. The only reason someone would want the key is if they wanted to sneak out. (In a move of brilliant planning, the windows are too small even for the smallest teenagers to crawl out of.) We were told we had two options: find the key or stay up all night to keep them from escaping.

Two searches proved entirely unfruitful. A key is a ridiculously small thing to find, especially if you’d really rather not be looking for it. Stephanie tried pulling out her bitchy teacher voice, but to no avail. The kids were far better at looking innocent than we were at figuring out which ones weren’t. It probably would have been funny if we hadn’t been delirious with sleep.

Finally we came to terms with the fact that we were not going to find the key, and that were not going to stay up all night looking for it. Next best thing?



Stephanie and I pulled every heavy object in the room in front of the door. Fire hazard? Yes. At that point, we weren’t particularly upset with the idea of every person in that building dying a horrible, lingering death. Actually, everything we put in front of the door could be moved pretty easily, but it couldn’t be moved without making a lot of noise. When the girls saw us blockading the door, they suddenly became righteously indignant. “Don’t you trust us? Why would you do something like that?”

Yeah, and why are you wearing a jacket and high heels, twerp?

The plan was originally to sleep with the door open so we would hear if they tried to move the furniture. This plan did not take into account, however, the fact that the hallways were entirely tile and highly acoustic. We could have heard a whisper, if there had been any of those. What we heard instead was high-pitched shrieking that seemed to occur for no particular reason. Seriously, there would be a knock, a shriek (read: piercing, piercing shriek), and then a slamming door. Over, and over, and over. Apparently, this game is quite entertaining to the 15 year-old female. We gave up and closed the door pretty early on, but teenage screaming has a way of breaking all sound barriers. Again, it probably would have been funny if we’d been wearing earplugs and hadn’t been delirious with sleep.

Finally Stephanie and I decided to pull “The Adult.” Stephanie stuck her head out of the door (the hallway was dark so they couldn’t see us) and yelled something about everyone going to bed. The reaction was priceless: a full twenty seconds of screaming, at least one O Dios mio!, several slamming doors, and then hushed laughing. The quiet didn’t even last a full minute.

Repeat this scenario 6 times (no, not an exaggeration), until we finally passed out.

Needless to say, we weren’t in the best mood the next day. And to top everything off, there was no water. Halfway through the day I had the brilliant idea of buying a bottle of water to wash my face, only to discover they only had carbonated water. Eh, still water, right? Note: if you ever decide to wash your face with carbonated water, prepare yourself for a strong burning sensation and a deep flush for several minutes afterward.

The topic of the weekend was relationships, and we were trying to get everyone to talk about family relationships. It actually went okay all day, but it wasn’t until the end of the day that I decided I couldn’t wholly detest them.

It was the last small-group session, and the kids were supposed to talk about the topic (families) and then come together and present something (a skit or song or whatever) to the whole group. It was the end of the day and everyone was exhausted. Stephanie told the story of Ruth and started asking questions to get people talking, but it didn’t work. Finally one girl suggested that the group re-tell the Ruth story as a skit for their presentation.

From that moment on, Stephanie and I hardly said a word. The kids adopted the story to make 2 chapters into a complicated, 35-minute dramatic presentation. Here’s the summary, as best as I can remember it:



Naomi and Elimelech lived together in Huancayo. They had two sons, Mahlon and Chilion. One day, while Mahlon and Chilion were surfing (remember, Huancayo is in the mountains), their father died. They rushed to his side, administered useless CPR, and all three characters had a highly dramatic moment weeping for their deceased husband/father. Finally Naomi regained composure and told her sons they were moving to Lima to get a fresh start.

So they go to Lima. Mahlon and Chilion enter the university, where they meet Ruth and Orpah. The first time they practiced the courting scene, Mahlon and Chilion staggered around with fake beer bottles, chanting, “Amiga! Nos casamos, eh?” When we suggested an alternate character choice, they became mentally challenged, lisping and muttering, “Tú eres mujer. ¿Tú me casas?” When we ixnayed that one too, they put on their smoothest personas, sauntered up to the girls, and said—in the most nonchalant tone possible—“Señorita, una preguntita, ¿quieres casarte conmigo?”


Of course, the girls agreed and all four walked happily offstage. Tragically, Mahlon and Chilion suffered a car accident on the way home from the discoteca one day. Ruth and Orpah rushed to the scene, but even a full 3 minutes of CPR proved sadly unfruitful.

The women met with their mother-in-law to tell her the bad news and the three had a highly dramatic mourning scene. Unfortunately, Mahlon and Chilion thought that their death—as exciting as it was—was a very poor plot choice. Thus during the following scene, they kept coming back as ghosts/zombies to haunt their widows/mother. Usually they would simply wander around and try to distract the women, but in one particularly graphic character choice, Chilion actually pulled out and ate Naomi’s heart. Apparently zombies do that.

After the mourning, Naomi told her daughters-in-law that they should go back to their families. “You’re young, you still have a chance in life.” Orpah left with a “Bueno, ciao,” but Ruth, of course, clung to Naomi with the famous where-you-go-I-will-go lines. Oh yeah, we’re talking drama. Latin daytime soap-opera drama, complete with fake tears and over-the-top facial expressions.

So Naomi and Ruth went back to Huancayo, where Ruth one day sauntered past a well-dressed man sitting on a park bench reading a magazine. She casually dropped her handkerchief in front of him—a detail which the audience adored. Boaz, of course, picked up her handkerchief and then proposed.

Which brings us to the wedding. Oh yes, there was a wedding. Mahlon had learned to play the first line of the wedding march on the synthesizer, so at this point in the skit Ruth walked down the aisle with an orange veil (don’t ask) to sound of a full organ. Unfortunately, Mahlon was so happy with himself for learning the first line of the wedding march that he kept playing it. By the third time, we realized that he wasn’t going to stop playing it until someone unplugged the synthesizer which, thankfully, Naomi did by the sixth time.

And yes, there was a full wedding ceremony. This was actually the favorite of the audience, because after all, what is a wedding without a kiss? They chanted beso! beso! beso! until the priest finally threw the orange veil over their heads to make it look like they kissed. The crowd went wild.

The moral of the story was that families don’t have to be related by blood to live together like families, and that maybe teenagers aren’t wholly detestable after all.