Camps

This is the 1st in a 3 part series about why I send my child to summer camp. It first ran last June when my blog was in its infancy, and I had 3 subscribers. It seemed like the right time of year to run it again — especially as I’m starting to pack up Monkey for his 4th summer at overnight camp.

It happens each summer. People ask about our plans, and when certain folks learn that our child spends three solid weeks each summer at overnight camp, I am met with looks of incredulity and sometimes horror.

More often than not, people gasp and say things like: “I could never do that,” as if to imply that I somehow force my son to pack his trunk and duffel and get out of our house. Nothing could be further from the truth. In fact, if I didn’t let him go, he would consider that the biggest punishment – ever!

Sometimes I get a variation on the theme: “I would never do that.” This response is extra excellent as it is packed with a little judgment, which I really appreciate. This response implies that I am somehow harming my child, perhaps inviting trouble into his life because I won’t be there to oversee his every move 100% of the time. (Can you imagine?)

When people respond this way, I sometimes get a little snarky and say, “At least this summer he came home with nine fingers.” (Insert a dramatic pause.) “Last summer was a disaster.” I know people  imagine pedophiles lurking around the showers or picture their own children drowning, their heads being held under water by rowdy unsupervised troublemakers. These are their issues.

For me, overnight camp was the greatest gift my parents ever gave me, and I feel fortunate that my husband and I are able to pay this gift forward to our child. Here’s what overnight camp gave me and continues to give children who attend each year:

1. Continued Independence. Each August, Monkey and his posse of buddies hop on the camp bus and return with a kind of “we-can-survive-without-our-parents” vibe. I once asked my son if anyone ever gets homesick. He shrugged, “Usually, our counselors keep us too busy to even think about being homesick. If it does happen, it is usually the new kids – but once they get into it and get comfortable with the routine, all that homesickness goes away,” then he added, “Plus, we take care of each other.”

2. Benefits of Communal Life. Living in a bunk with 8 or 9 “summer siblings” affords kids the opportunity to develop some amazing problem solving skills. If there is an argument, instead of a parent swooping in to the rescue, the boys generally have to work it out by themselves. That means using their mouths to directly communicate their feelings. Sometimes they aren’t so great at expressing the subtle nuances of their emotions, but – again – they have each other to lean on. If things ever escalate, they have counselors and Unit Heads to help them.

There are other benefits of living in a large group. Boys learn to respect each other’s property, tolerate each other’s quirks, and appreciate each other’s boundaries. Everyone sees each other at their best and their worst selves. Summer camp goes a long way towards undoing that horrible “entitled” attitude. The spoiled girl quickly learns when her peers have had enough of her whining. Kids are patient to a point, but when an entire bunk is angry at you, it is time to take a look in the mirror. Campers quickly learn that despite the fact that a person cannot always get what he wants, everything usually turns out okay in the end.

3. Time Away from Technology. Okay, so when I was young, there was less technology, but I still missed Wheel of Fortune, Jeopardy and General Hospital. These days, kids are so connected to their social networks, their email accounts, their Apps, the Internet, their Skype. They are used to the constant buzz-ping of each new text message as it arrives. Being unplugged from most technology allows kids to connect with each other, a valuable skill that seems to be getting lost a bit these days. My son reminds me, “We can have iPods, so if someone needs some alone time, he can just pop in the ear buds.” Staff members have told me that after a few days, many kids begin to prefer people to gadgets, and rather than tune out, they start to look for other campers to “hang out with.”

4. Connection to Nature. While our family is fortunate to live in an area with plenty of access to great parks, during the school year, many children just do not have a lot of spare time to go outside and play. My son says, “At camp, we are kind of forced to appreciate nature. It’s easy to forget, but once you start walking around, you can’t help but remember.” Camp Seneca Lake has over 200 acres to explore. Trails to blaze. There are squirrels, field mice, lots of ants and millipedes; there are raccoons and skunks and deer. There is a beautiful lake with a beach that consists of zillions of flat shale rocks, perfect for skipping. What more could a kid want?

5. Opportunity to Try New Things. I like to think of CSL as a “liberal arts” camp. Unlike sports camps where kids learn the skills necessary to specialize in one venue, at CSL kids have the opportunity to try new things simply because they have access to so many opportunities they may not have at home.

The “non-jock” can try floor hockey or excel at Ga-ga, a weird game I’ve never seen played outside of summer camp. There are plays in which kids can perform; an art barn where children can make jewelry, throw on the potter’s wheel, batik, make candles, draw, paint, make just about anything. (A far cry from boondoggle – although they have plenty of that, too.) At Athletics, they can practice archery, basketball, tetherball, softball, tennis, ping-pong – and any other land sport you can think of. The waterfront offers canoeing, wakeboarding, waterskiing, sailing, banana boating — even opportunities to swim-the-lake! Picky eaters might even try something new because the kids work up a real appetite trying all these incredible activities.

Did you attend  to attend overnight camp? What is your favorite memory? If you didn’t go, would you let your kids go? Why or why not?

Yesterday, my summer son landed back on planet Earth. He came from summer camp via yellow bus and was deposited in a parking lot along with his summer siblings. His voice, gone from three weeks of cheering at Color Wars and singing songs in the Dining Hall. He said this was his best summer yet. And next year, he wants to stay for four weeks. We spent hours listening to him talk about “camp stuff.” What he did, what he ate, moments he loved, moments he didn’t love. If there were any pretty girls. How everyone got along; how his counselors were. And much, much more.

Alas, we are going to have to kick into school mode pretty quickly.

First of all, the middle school is looming there in my backyard; we simply cannot ignore it. And he has a formal orientation later this week.

Yesterday, before he fell asleep, he pulled me down toward his face. “Mom,” he whispered. ” I love you, but I will miss summer.”

I understand completely.

He’s a summer person.

Today, we will find his locker and he will try out his very first combination lock. He will find his homeroom. He will look around, take in the landscape. Figure out the lay of the land.

And then we are back to the banal tasks, like shopping for new sneakers (he outgrew his while in camp), new shirts and pants (he outgrew his while in camp), and we need to consider things like . . .  food. Because while he was away, my husband and I didn’t set foot in the grocery store. (Which was divine.)  But, with boy back at home, we simply must return to some kind of routine. We   simply cannot continue to eat cereal for dinner. Or peaches and cheese. Or one tomato with salt.

The laundry is spinning as I tap out this quick blog. And my real life looms, too. I have to figure out the time line for my curriculum. Make a few copies. Invite a few guest lecturers. Line up my instruction day in the library so students know how to conduct reliable research in 2010.

Like my son, I  have always been a summer person. I sparkle and shimmer and shine in June, July and August. I love the heat and the water, from pool or ocean. How I used to look forward to the summer. Summer camp. Skinny-dipping. Getting a deep dark delicious tan. (In the 1980s we did these things.) A plain girl, I felt prettier in the summer. Transformed, I always fell in love in the summer. I married in the summer. My son was born in the summer.

But now, I feel autumn creeping up on me, wrapping her fingers around my throat.

It has been a wonderful summer, and I am so grateful to have everyone home together.

Yesterday, I was waxing nostalgic for the many wonders of summer, a friend informed me that she actually hates summer. That, in fact, it is her least favorite season. I was shocked. Horrified. How could it be? She explained her story to me, and I understand it — but it is a foreign concept to me. I’d like to hear from others.

In which season do you feel the most alive? Can you explain?