The Corps Experience- A series of tales from corps life.
For me, the conservation corps experience is about much more than the work and the trainings (though of course that is an important part of it). When I think about the most impactful aspects of what it means to be a part of a corps, what comes to mind more than anything else is the community. Intensely vibrant, passionate, and supportive, the community built during a term as a member of a residential conservation corps is perhaps the most beautiful thing I have ever been a part of.
During my time in corps, I learned so much about life that I would have never otherwise learned in such a meaningful way; I learned about love, friendship, understanding of difference, communication, compromise, and support. I found a family in those that lived and worked around me, and through this, created the bonds that will propel me through the rest of life’s challenges and triumphs.
So, when someone asks me to define “corps life” I may 
not immediately tell them about the time I cleared a three-mile trail up a mountain in eight days, or the time I helped build a beautiful carpentry bridge across a stream, or even about learning to wield a chain saw. What I would talk about was the time I teamed up with four other corps members to chase a rogue mouse around the walk in fridge for a half hour
, or the time when we went out onto the frozen pond covered in two feet of snow, spent hours shoveling an ice skating rink, and then, too exhausted to actually ice skate, spent several more hours just laying on our homemade rink swapping stories about life. I would talk about the night a bunch of us went dumpster diving, brought back an entire vans worth of dumpster chips, doughnuts, and chocolate Easter bunnies, and then the ensuing 
community discussion about whether it was okay to put “dumpster” food in the same storage area as “regular” food. I would recall spontaneous drum circles, themed coffee-house performances, hula hoop battles, and murder mystery nights.
One evening that comes to mind, during my time in the Student Conservation Association’s New Hampshire Corps, a residential program based in an old CCC camp in the middle of Bear Brook State Park, took place in early march 2011, as the ice was just beginning to thaw and the snow began to turn to mud.
As an active member of perhaps our community’s most notable committee, the “party planning committee,” I played a role in organizing major events, such as the one that occurred on this particular evening. “Mardi-ween” was decreed to be a blend of two beloved holidays, Mardi Gras and Halloween. The idea was that corps members would make masks and/or costumes, which would be paraded in front of a table of judges, who would then vote on each and dole out awards. Costumes were to be accompanied by pizza (because Mardi-ween happened to coincide with a celebration rewarding everyone with a pizza party for using the outhouse. “Battle-Shits” was a challenge thought up by one of the corps members in another of the great committees, the sustainability committee, as a way to encourage water conservation), and of course, dancing.
During the afternoon leading up to the festivities, I had an important job to do. Along with a fellow corps member, I was to head into town and acquire an assortment of Mardi Gras beads. We spent the afternoon going from dollar store to dollar store, in search of said beads. After several stops and a brief jaunt into a thrift store to pick up materials for our own costumes, we headed excitedly back to our home in the woods to begin the celebration. 
Upon arriving back at camp, we immediately noticed something odd. Though the sky was beginning to darken, not a single light was on in our lodge building, where everyone was surely gathered by now. Sure enough, when we entered the building, all 30 members were indeed inside bustling around in minor chaos attempting to finish costumes and set up dinner amidst, what we soon found out, a large-scale power outage.
A power outage at Bear Brook is no quick fix. Often it takes several days for the power company to make the trek out to the woods to put it right. This could have been the end of our party. No one could see two feet in front of them, the water was off, and the building was quickly becoming very chilly.
Among many, that may well have been the case. But not us. No self-respecting conservation corps would boo at a little darkness and cold. Instead, I’m proud to say, the
NH Corps of 2011 gathered up some firewood, put on our headlamps, wrapped in some blankets, and started to party. As I walked around the room, handing out those so important Mardi-Gras beads, I came across one member attempting to finish decorating a mask by flash light, and another getting together some battery powered music sources. We all ate Pizza, and then formed a work team to do all the dishes by hand in the dark. We cuddled up on couches 
around the proclaimed “stage” and began to parade our costumes. When our turn came, my friend and I paraded proudly in our “ghost” costumes (sheets over our heads with slits for eyes)…which had been a dream of mine since childhood. Once the costume parade was complete and awards were doled out (we won the ”most realistic ghost” costume award) the night devolved into one of the most epic blackout dance parties I have had the pleasure of being a part of. We had music, limbo, out of nowhere someone handed out glow sticks. There was swing dancing, break dancing, even that ever popular, ‘pretend your partner is a fish and lure them in,’ move. We danced for hours, until the night was in danger of being overtaken by day. We danced until we were too exhausted to stand up any longer, and holding each other up, we stumbled up the gravel road, to our respective cabins, and went to sleep.
And that is just another night in a residential conservation corps.
These days, in a world so egotistical and disconnected that sometimes it feels like our only links are facebook likes and friend requests, finding a real connection can be nearly impossible. Residential conservation corps provide an amazing way for young people entering into the “real world” to learn how to build and maintain genuine community and deep bonds to each other.
I count myself among the luckiest people on earth to have been a part of experiences so magical as these. It is one of the main reasons we are designing Smoky Mountain Corps to be a residential program, with a strong emphasis on community development. I know I will carry my corps communities with me wherever I go, and I am so excited to be providing a venue for others to do so as well. Let the party planning begin!
-Heather
If you have a story about corps life you’d like to share, please contact me at heather@conservationlegacy.org
CLICK HERE to support our efforts to start the first ever residential conservation and sustainability corps program in the Southeast!