I remember the first time I pled my case for overnight camp to my husband, Mark. My eldest son, Levi, wanted to go to Camp Newman in California. Mark was against it and offered the age-old rationale: “I never went to sleep-away camp and I turned out just fine.” Luckily I knew better than to dispute that statement in the heat of an argument. Instead I stuck to the old standard justifications about camp offering a myriad of physical, mental and emotional growth opportunities. “You act like going to sleep-away camp is a right for every kid,” he rebuked, “like some sort of entitlement.”
He held fast to the brochure with the attached pricing, his expression one of unmistakable sticker shock. I wanted to say something sensible to prove that I viewed the camp experience as a privilege, a unique and special treat, not as a necessity or “entitlement” as he had suggested. But all I could muster was, “Yeah … isn’t it?”
Growing up in the Midwest, that’s what we did. From the age of 9 on, our parents sewed our names into every summer piece of clothing we owned, packed up our trunks and shipped us off to Northern Wisconsin or Upper Michigan where we learned how to ride horses, water ski and roast marshmallows over fires we built with our own hands. We knew how to avoid poison ivy, could tick-check our bunkmates on camping trips and were even pros at removing those disgusting lake leeches when one would suction onto a friend. While I admit I’ve found few opportunities to use these skills in my day-to-day Arizona activities, the self-confidence, strength and courage those skills taught me are gifts that I can directly attribute to my annual eight-week excursions to Eagle River, WI.
Camp taught me how to live without my parents’ direct supervision, how to interact with peers and other adults in positions of authority. I learned how to confront fear, loneliness and insecurity. Everything wasn’t great all the time. But I developed ways of caring for myself from being on my own that kids who never went to overnight camp seemed to lack. This past summer I watched videos of Levi soaring across Camp Newman on a 40-foot-high zip line and maneuvering through a treacherous ropes course many feet above the ground. These were two activities my son had unequivocally sworn to avoid out of sheer terror. There is no greater joy than seeing your child face and conquer his demons.
Sometimes it’s hard to let go of our kids. My 9-year-old son, Eli, went to camp for two weeks this past summer. I wrote him daily, starting the week before he left so he’d be sure to receive a handwritten letter every single day he was away. He too learned how to exist without me right next to him, guiding him, cheering him on and warning him about every perilous adversity awaiting him.
Do I think every child is entitled to go to sleep-away camp? I still want to sound reasonable and give the “right” answer. But in truth, I keep coming back to “um, yeah … I really do.” So think about sending your kids to overnight camp next summer. There are many great options to choose from with even more scholarship opportunities to help defray costs. Plus there’s the bonus of earning some one-on-one time alone with your significant other. On the downside, the cost of sending your kids to overnight camp might impact your own romantic getaway plans. But Rocky Point is pretty cosmopolitan these days. Just be wary of the water, and that means ice cubes, too.
Debra Rich Gettleman is a mother and blogger based in the Phoenix area. For more of her work, visit unmotherlyinsights.com.
