The Philosophy of Summer Camps, and Why Your Child Matters

I'm sure in my mother's eyes, I'm still a child. Can a mom really ever let go of those early years? As I quickly approach 20, though, I've taken time to reflect on what my childhood was and meant. Certainly I can refer to it in the past tense. I've had enough ominous warnings to prepare for the "real world," whatever that might be. But there are certain things I want to hold onto, traditions that I'm not quite ready to file away in the back of mental cabinet.

We can all agree that summer is magical, right? When the air gets rheumy, things seem to buzz: the trees are a bit greener, the sun shines a bit brighter. We can get drunk on this seasonal effervescence, and why not? Summer is fun.

From kindergarten up until I was 14 or 15, my mom made a ritual of meticulously planning our summers. Every year around mid-March, my sister and I would gather by the computer, the screen cluttered with browser windows and color coded spreadsheets, and debate.

"I don't want to do science camp this year."

"Really, knitting camp again?"

"I'd love to try diving."

For hours on end, days at a time, we would sit, eyes affixed to the luminous glow, asking, yelling, accepting, so on and so forth, until at last we emerged from the chaos with a coherent summer schedule.

Back then, I didn't understand the need for such occupied time. Summer camps could be fun, but was it imperative that every week be spent learning some fleeting skill that might be forgotten before the next week's activities began?

My friends enjoyed freedom. Their summer's might be pocked with a football camp here, a writing camp there, but were otherwise generally open, allowing for the sort of nefariousness and adventure that young boys crave.

I think somewhere along the line, I began to resent the camps. They were my summer shackles. While everyone else was out enjoying life with reckless abandon, I was stuffed in a room that smelled of wood and old people, learning about a rocket, or a painting technique, or how to be a clown. This was useless. Pointless. Absolutely inapplicable. My inherent cynicism towards the camps initiated a vicious cycle. I thought my summers were wasted.

I began to protest the camps. Why did I really have to go? Couldn't I be alone? But my mother, silver tongued as she is, would somehow manage to make us forget our objections, if only for a moment, and once again acquiesce to a structured summer.

Time has revealed a lot about those busy weeks. I realize now that as a single parent, my mom was doing her best to keep us not only occupied, but safe. She could have sent us to any general day camp for weeks on end, but she didn't. She afforded us a choice many children aren't given the luxury of having. Furthermore, she was trying to give us experiences that, under different circumstances, we might have missed out on. I attribute my general curiosity and appreciation of learning to the comprehensiveness of our summer education. There was something else, too. When I longed for the freedom my friend's experienced, I didn't realize that they might be lazily lounging on the couch, desperately seeking stimulation. We were largely spared those summer doldrums: the long, nothing filled days in the thick of the season during which no entertainment can be found and no activity is satiating.

Who would I be without those camps? I might not ever join the circus, but what did I subconsciously pick up on at circus camp that helped me to grow?

I can't insightfully answer these questions, because their answers are hidden somewhere deep within. I can only enjoy a sort of ex post facto satisfaction. I'm glad I went to camp.

My advice would be this: sit your child down, and talk to them about what they enjoy doing and what they are curious about. Coddle these interests. Then, see what camps cater to your child. Encourage them to spend at least one outside of their comfort zone (I feel like this is where I gained the most) Find a happy medium between a jam packed summer and a desolate one; perhaps a week on, week off approach. Most importantly, give your child a chance to demonstrate what they've learned. I was blind to real world applicability of what I was learning. But had I been given greater vantage, the magic of my exposure to the unknown might have been thrown into relief.

Therein lies the real value of summer camps: they are places to experience slices of life, new possibilities, and budding passions. A great summer camp can inspire. And what does a child need more than inspiration?

Thank you for reading this op-ed. If you're still looking for summer activities, I run Blue and Gold Soccer Camps, and we're hosting four sessions during June and July. I apply a lot of what you read about in this piece to help foster an environment conducive to fun and learning. You can sign-up at www.atlantasoccercamps.com. Thank you!