My method of getting kids not to swear at camp was just to appeal to their sense of fairness.
Child: “Fuck!”
Me: “Hey! I’m not allowed to swear in front of you guys. It’s not fair if you swear in front of me, is it?”
Child: “I guess not… sorry…”
Sometimes I’d work with teenagers and facilitate activities like giant swing or zipline, which involve full-body harnesses that get Wildly Uncomfortable in the crotch areas. The younger kids didn’t mind it, but those burdened by more of the wonderful gifts of puberty had some things to complain about.
And complain they would! I think 15 year old boys are contractually obligated to shout “THIS HURTS MY BALLS!” at the top of their lungs every time they’re in a harness. To combat this, I’d warn them about the pain ahead of time and tell them that if they need to come down, I’ll help them down immediately. “However, I don’t get paid enough to listen to teenagers scream about their genitals for an hour. If you have to scream, we’re gonna call them ‘your honor’, okay?”
Teenagers screaming “OH NO! MY HONOR!” while swinging through the canopy? Hilarious.
