At camp’s close we ask the obvious yet poignant question: “How do we bring our ‘camp selves’ home?” In the concrete, bringing your “camp-self” home means seeking opportunities to unplug, to lean into a costume party, to play a sport or craft or make a bracelet just for fun. In the abstract, it is about capturing whatever it is that enables an otherwise reserved 9 year old to address the whole of girl side on friday night or publicly dance in a hot dog costume on stage.
Audrey playing tennis with a camper in 2023.
For me, for the past 9 summers, the end of camp meant the start of teaching in a classroom. Bringing my camp-self to my teacher-self came easily. Mornings started with circle games. I was prone to break into song or throw a friday afternoon dance party. I listened to kids’ recess conflicts, coached them through tricky moments with friends. My ethos of working with children at camp and in the classroom was much the same, and at the core was about fostering that safe community, where kids are empowered to be themselves, to take risks, and to leave the school-year somehow more grown.
Now, I find myself transitioning into an entirely different “school year.” Even though I am working for camp full-time, with campers gone, quiet grounds, and a long 10 months ahead, the answer to that age-old question is far less obvious.
It is easy to enumerate tangible manifestations of the camp-self. Everyone has their favorite. For my dad, it is boys side gathering on the HC porch, even in 2024, to listen to a baseball game on the radio. For me, it is being outside in the rain. When it is raining and meal time, we walk in the rain and we get wet. We don’t run or rush. We don’t complain. We just walk. At home, I would avoid going outside in the rain at all costs, but at camp, barring a full storm, it is business as usual. Most of the time, rain isn’t even particularly noteworthy. Yes, rainy days bring some of the most quintessential Scatico magic moments– mudslides and rainbows– but more often, rain brings routine divisional soccer games, casual conversations while puddle jumping with friends, the excuse to finally wear your five year jacket (even though everyone knows it’s far from waterproof). In the rain, campers seem to walk closer together, their shouts and laughter uniquely echo above the pattering white noise. At camp we do things that are, by outside world standards, uncomfortable, and we don't even take note. How is it that something typically worthy of complaint instead brings me comfort and joy? That is the intangible.
Soccer in the rain...
Here's the thing, I do not want to go outside in the rain in Brooklyn. Somehow, I don’t feel the smell of hot wet pavement will bring the same comfort. But school, work, home life, and camp, have more overlap than we give them credit for - busy schedules (much of which are chosen for you), community of peers, some of whom are lifelong friends, all of whom you have shared experiences with. Yes, there are tests and AP classes, but there are also talent shows, group projects, and dining halls. There are those routine transitions where the entire community moves from one place to the next. A lot of the key ingredients for magical moments are already there, we just need to intentionally work to see them in a camp-self light.
My first week back in New York City, I found myself at a dreaded juncture - a flashing orange “delayed” notice for my subway. As irritation took hold, I instead paused and asked “what would my camp-self do?” And so, I removed my earbuds and walked downtown through Times Square. I was immersed in an astonishing confluence of personalities and activities, and instead of keeping my head down and pushing through the crowds, I just walked. I stopped to give directions to a family from California, and shadowed a tour group for half a block to hear a brief history of Broadway. And it was here, a place so antithetical to camp, a place that is, in most ways, the absolute embodiment of what we are trying to escape when we enter the 12523, that I came closest to finding my camp-self. I was an hour behind what I had set out to get done, but I was energized by the experience.
Camp Sister Talent Show- 2024.
We can’t truly recreate the camp magic, but perhaps there are more opportunities than we realize to emulate some tangible manifestations of the camp-self. Maybe it is as simple as taking a small, uncomfortable, even unpleasant moment, and instead approaching it as an opportunity to connect, to try something new, to find joy in the mundane. And just maybe, perhaps, if we accumulate enough of these small moments, we can somewhat capture the intangible and abstract, and get closer to being the person who is willing to dance in a hot dog costume on stage.