It was a brand-new ship contract, and this time my travels took me to San Juan, Puerto Rico, where I was set to join the M/S Starward. This smaller vessel would be sailing to the southern Caribbean, with only one sea day on the itinerary and the rest spent in port. Right away I could tell this was going to be a different experience.
Not only was the ship itself smaller, but my responsibilities had shifted. I was now in charge of the youth and teen programs, and it was my very first Easter at sea—with just two of us onboard to run everything. There was no designated kid’s area, but we were allowed to use the Library/Card Room, which would quickly become our hub.
After boarding, I found my cabin and met my co-coordinator, who was brand new to ship life. That meant the task of welcoming her, giving the ship tour, explaining rules and regulations, and preparing her for the Cruise Director’s meeting fell to me. Luckily, the two-week program had already been planned, and our Easter supplies—candy, baskets, decorations, and games—were waiting for us to sort through and inventory. The challenge, as always, was storage. Cruise ships are beautiful and sleek, designed for passengers’ eyes, but rarely practical for those of us running recreation programs. Supplies, décor, and activity materials had no hidden home. Instead, they were piled up, crammed into corners, or left sitting out where everyone could see. It was something I would never stop noticing. And to this day…it always seems to be design over function! Whenever I’m in conversations about kid’s club design, I can’t help but remind designers and contractors: storage, storage, storage—you can never have enough of it! LOL.
After our meeting with the Cruise Director, we hosted our parent orientation in the Library/Card Room. Then it was time for the mandatory boat drill—a safety procedure every cruise begins with, just like airlines and their safety briefings. Each passenger had to grab their life jacket, head to their muster station, and line up while the Captain and Cruise Director led the drill over the PA. The staff demonstrated how to properly wear the life jacket and explained what to do in case of an emergency. I always admired the clever design of those jackets—the little lights that activated as soon as they touched salt water felt like a small reassurance in the back of my mind.
Of course, passengers rarely enjoy boat drills, but they are essential. And that very evening, just after our “welcome aboard” meeting with parents and children, the sirens went off—this time for real. Suddenly, it was our responsibility to keep families calm, guide them to the right station, and make sure the kids had life jackets. There were extras stored in our area, which helped, but the tension was real. My heart pounded as I worked to stay composed and keep the children reassured.
Then the Captain’s voice came over the speaker, steady and calm, announcing that the situation was under control. He thanked everyone for their patience, gave a few additional safety reminders, and dismissed us all to enjoy dinner. I can tell you, I was shaken. I realized in that moment just how much responsibility came with this job. Boat drills on my earlier contracts had always felt routine—I was still learning, paired with more experienced staff, and didn’t grasp the weight of it all. But that night was a wake-up call.
I’ve always compared it to being a passenger in a car: when I’m not the one driving, I don’t pay full attention unless I’ve been asked to help navigate or keep an eye out for something. That night was the moment I realized I was no longer just a passenger. I was responsible for others’ safety. From then on, I promised myself to always pay close attention to safety instructions—whether five minutes on a flight or ten minutes on a ship—because those few minutes could one day make all the difference.
Once things settled, the cruise itself turned into a memorable one. The number of kids and teens wasn’t overwhelming, but it kept us busy enough. Easter was a highlight—one of the divers volunteered to be the Easter Bunny, hopping around the ship and delighting the children. At the end of each week, I wrote up my first official reports as lead coordinator. It felt good—another small step toward maturity and leadership.
My co-coordinator, however, soon realized ship life wasn’t for her. She learned a lot, but by the end of the contract it was clear she belonged on land. I respected her choice. Ship life is something you either love or you don’t, and in my opinion, there’s rarely a middle ground.
For Thanksgiving and Christmas, Sally assigned me to the M/S Westward, another smaller ship—though not quite as tiny as the Starward. Once again, there were just two of us running the youth and teen programs. This time the ship sailed out of California, along the Mexican Riviera. Mazatlán, Puerto Vallarta, Acapulco—what an adventure!
But the Westward came with its own challenges. The constant time changes threw me off, and more than once, I woke up to the Assistant Cruise Director calling to tell me kids were already waiting for program to start. Yikes! Another humbling lesson in accountability. Even though I shared a cabin with my co-coordinator, as the lead I knew I had to own it. Mistakes are part of the job, but taking responsibility is part of leadership.
Despite the hiccups, the contract was a joy. The crew was incredible, the ports were exciting, and life onboard was filled with new experiences. Around that time, I heard from friends who were crossing the Atlantic on NCL’s brand-new M/S Dreamward. By then, I had a full year of seasonal contracts behind me—four different ships, countless lessons, and more confidence than ever. Then came the call I’d been waiting for: I was being offered a full-time contract. Three months on, one month off. I couldn’t believe it.
When I joined the Dreamward, I was leading three coordinators. One was a former Cruise Director, back onboard to help. Another had been with the ship since the holidays and expected to step into the lead role herself. The first two evaluations I conducted went smoothly. But the third blindsided me.
The coordinator sat through the evaluation with a straight face, and I thought it was going well—until I asked if she had any comments. That’s when it all came out. She unleashed a storm of frustration, saying this was her ship, that she’d been there from the beginning, and who was I to come onboard and take over. She told me she never wanted to see my face again.
I was stunned. I’d never been spoken to like that before, and it shook me to my core. Afterward, the former Cruise Director sought me out, reassured me, and said I’d handled it as well as I could. But the experience stuck with me for a long time.
From then on, I kept detailed notes—documenting not only critiques but also positive feedback from parents and passengers. That way, evaluations would always be fair, balanced, and backed up. It was my way of making sure no one felt blindsided again.
Thankfully, I was never spoken to like that again. And over time, I came to understand that leadership isn’t about being perfect—it’s about leading by example, owning your mistakes, and supporting your team.
Those early contracts on the smaller ships taught me lessons I carried to the larger ones. I learned to balance being the fun coordinator with being the responsible leader. I learned to entertain one child or twenty, to run programs solo when needed, to stay healthy, and to never forget that safety comes first.
It was, truly, my dream job—and every challenge, every setback, and every success was shaping me into the leader I wanted to be.
Favorite Quote: The greater the obstacle, the more glory in overcoming it. -Molière
I learned a similar quote early on that has always stuck with me: “The more difficult the obstacle, the stronger a person becomes once he hurdles it.” I’ve never been able to find out who originally wrote it, but it was something my dad would often say to me during tough times. Even now, I still think of it whenever I’m facing challenges.
Next Up: Youth and Teen Coordinator Training