After a stressful school year of trying to aggressively increase my SAT scores and number of Facebook friends, I was looking forward to a relaxing summer. Leaving home to work at a day camp—Camp Gan Israel in Gaithersburg, Md.—with my two best friends seemed like a great way to get the words GPA, percentile, class standing, internship, résumé and college essay out of my system.

Once camp started, I did completely forget about academic and social pressure. Instead, my energy was expended by the 10 rambunctious 4-year-olds I would come to call my campers. I, not even 16, had to somehow ensure that at any given time they were hydrated, fed, happy and not killing one another. And I had thought school was stressful!

Lucky for me, as the summer progressed I discovered the rewards of being a counselor. Seven hours a day, five days a week, I was surrounded by 10 little people who thought I was amazing. Whatever I did, they wanted to copy. When I had to punish a child, I could really see the shame in their eyes. But the great power of being a counselor came with a huge responsibility. The quality of my campers’ summers was all up to me—whether they felt happy or sad, excited or bored, it was in my hands.

After all the sweat and tears I put into my job, I was happy to see my results as the summer progressed. There’s no feeling like the pride I had when a child did something touching.  Attributes I emphasized, like honesty and generosity, were really picked up by the kids. I learned that the easiest way to get them to do something was to let them see me do it. This trick saved me lots of yelling this summer!

My junior counselor also helped me with the kids immensely. We were a great team—I walked in the front of the line and she walked in back; I would change the boys for swimming, and she would change the girls. She took kids to the bathroom, got supplies when we ran out and was almost always at my side when I needed her.

The other counselors and I were able to really get close to the local junior counselors in between activities at camp. One junior counselor in particular, a girl who before camp didn’t know an aleph from a bet, looked up to us, a bunch of religious, ultra-Orthodox Chasidic girls from all over the world. Once, we invited her to spend Shabbat with us, and she really enjoyed it. She loved the meals, the energy and the singing. That weekend was the first time in her life she had ever celebrated Shabbat.

Aside from working, there were also evenings and weekends to enjoy with the counselors. We were usually busy—we would go to the mall, the pizza shop, bowling alley or 7-Eleven. Even when we had nothing planned, we always managed to have fun just sitting and talking. Weekends were the best. It was a time to catch up on sleep and celebrate Shabbat. Sundays were reserved for special trips: biking, helicopter rides, Hershey Park and Washington, D.C.

But more than any exciting activity the counselors did, what I liked to do most after camp was visit my 94-year-old great-grandmother, who lived in a nursing home nearby. I had always loved visiting her with my family and finally managed to convince our head counselors, who were also our drivers, to take me there.

Someone I’m not used to seeing more than once a year, my great-grandmother is a remarkable woman. The more I visited, the more I realized how funny, optimistic and loving she is. The beaming smile on her face when I came to visit and the warm hugs and kisses I always left with kept me coming back many times throughout the summer. Sometimes a fellow counselor or two would come along, curious to meet the woman I loved visiting so much. (By the end of the summer, it was a standing joke: All I ever wanted to do was see “Grammaw.” I would do anything for a ride there!) My great-grandmother, like my campers, made me feel loved, needed and special. She constantly deluged me, my family and my friends with praise—no one was ever imperfect in her blind yet perceptive eyes.

My great-grandmother and my campers have taught me powerful lessons. Before this summer, I thought the only way to be a successful person was to study, get popular and read lots of self-help books. And during the school year that’s exactly what I did; I focused on myself. Now I’m starting to comprehend the symbiotic nature of life: The more you give, the more you get. Who knew that it would take a bunk of 4-year-olds and one 94-year-old woman to teach me that?

Chava Sneiderman likes sushi, photography, heart-to-heart conversations, fashion and family vacations. In her spare time she enjoys reading, writing, swimming and studying French. She’s also a member of the JVibe Teen Advisory Board.