Confessions Of A Terrible Camp Counselor
Written by on Jun 23, 2026 12:00 PM
Nobody tells you what you’re actually signing up for when you volunteer to be a camp counselor. You might be thinking outdoor games, kids learning teamwork, maybe a few s’mores if the weather holds up.
It turns out, it’s a lot less “outdoor leadership experience” and a lot more “please don’t let anything catch fire while you’re in charge.”
And if you’re two frat bros who may have stretched the truth to get here… it becomes something else entirely: Survival.
There are good camp counselors.
There are great camp counselors.
And then there are the kind of camp counselors who signed up because they needed community service hours and thought singing around a campfire sounded preferable to getting kicked out of college.
If you happen to find yourself in that category, we have assembled a few hard-earned lessons on everything not to do at summer camp. Here we go.
Actually, let’s back up. Don’t get arrested.
But if you do get arrested and suddenly need 120 hours of community service in two weeks, maybe don’t say you’ve worked with middle schoolers when your only experience is occasionally babysitting your roommate after a frat party.
And while we’re being honest, maybe don’t pretend to be super churchy if your knowledge of Scripture comes mostly from inspirational quotes on your grandma’s Facebook page.
Kids can smell a fake from a mile away.
Nobody warns you about this one.
You show up to camp thinking you’re there to survive bugs and dodge dodgeballs, and suddenly one of your fellow counselors starts smiling at you. Nobody tells you that camp crushes happen at approximately three times the speed of normal life. Probably because everybody’s sleep-deprived and sharing bug spray.
Turns out “Did you want some coffee?” can mean very different things to different people.

To you, it means caffeine. To your fellow counselor, it apparently means, “Would you like to begin a beautiful journey together?”
Communication is important. So are personal boundaries.
Camp has a way of handing out titles that sound way more important than they actually are. Case in point: “Assistant to the Assistant Director of Camp Skits.”
Does it sound important? It’s really not.
It just means looking for missing props, getting blamed for things you didn’t know were your responsibility, and discovering that “7 AM rehearsal” isn’t a suggestion.
Pro tip: show up on time. Oh, and definitely get coffee first.
This should be self-explanatory. It never ends with, “Wow, that was simple and hassle-free.”
Especially when you’re already trying to hide the fact that you’re not exactly Counselor of the Year material.
And here’s the problem: pastors tend to know things. They ask questions. They smile knowingly. They quote Bible verses with suspicious accuracy. It’s unsettling.
So maybe, just maybe, don’t develop feelings for the one person whose father can begin a sentence with, “Son, I’d like to have a word with you.”
You’d think this wouldn’t need to be said. But if you leave your phone unattended around curious campers, prepare for mayhem. People start snooping.
Technology is wonderful, but passwords are better.
And while we’re at it, if you have something to hide, for goodness sake, tell your bestie to set his social accounts to private.
Camp teaches trust. It also teaches digital security.
Church camp lingo is its own beast.
Nobody gives you a handbook. You just get dropped into conversations where people say things like “hedge of protection,” “DTR,” and “travel mercies” like it’s completely normal.
You try not to ask too many questions. Because the second you ask, they’re on to you. So you start building survival phrases:
“That’s powerful.”
“Totally.”
“Yeah, I’ll be praying about that.”
You don’t fully know what you’re agreeing to, but you say it with confidence anyway. This can come back to bite you.
We cannot stress this one enough. Sleep in. Hide in the supply closet. Volunteer for literally anything else that morning.
Because once a group of middle schoolers gets access to glitter, lipstick, and face paint, there are no Geneva Conventions.
You are no longer a counselor. You are a canvas.
Five minutes later, you’ll be wearing a tutu, sporting a very artistic full-face makeover, and trying to remember how your life led you here. There will be glitter in places where glitter should never be. There will be lipstick applied with the confidence of a professional artist and the precision of a blindfolded raccoon.
And don’t forget, there will be photos. There are always photos.

Look. We’re not saying anything happened. (There are certain topics we’re legally, morally, and spiritually choosing not to discuss.)
We’re just saying that open flames and campgrounds have a long history of being enemies.
Camp is tough: There’s the lack of sleep, endless games, mystery meat, twelve thousand questions middle schoolers somehow ask before breakfast, and camp songs that get stuck in your head forever.
And somehow, somewhere between capture-the-flag, awkward skits, and trying to remember everyone’s names, something strange happens.
The kids start to matter. And before you know it, the place you showed up, counting the hours to leave, becomes the place you don’t want to say goodbye to.
Funny thing about camp: Even bad counselors can learn something.
Sometimes it’s patience. Sometimes it’s a responsibility. And sometimes it’s realizing that all those camp traditions you thought were goofy might actually mean something. Somewhere between the campfires, the weird lingo, and the songs you’ll pretend not to miss, you start to understand why people keep coming back every summer.
You’ll realize that God uses the messes we make, the people we meet, and the places we’d never choose for ourselves to teach us that maybe change doesn’t happen all at once. It happens one goofy skit, one campfire, and one badly sung worship song at a time.
And that’s probably a lesson worth bringing home.
Bad Counselors follows two fraternity brothers who find themselves needing community service hours after getting into trouble. Their solution? Pretending to be qualified counselors at a Christian summer camp. What follows is a hilarious summer filled with awkward situations, unexpected friendships, and lessons they never saw coming.
Yes. Bad Counselors combines comedy with faith-friendly themes, exploring redemption, responsibility, friendship, and personal growth through a lighthearted summer camp adventure.
The film features a cast that includes Matt Cornett, Ramon Reed, Chris Klein, Missi Pyle, Brec Bassinger, and McKaley Miller.
"*" indicates required fields