If you are on the fence about sending your Mississauga Kid to their first sleep away camp you might want to read this article.  A good camp can change your child's life.  This article by Julie Hartley, from Centauri Summer Arts Camp touches on how important this opportunity to grow can be for your child.

 On the first day of camp, twelve year old Jason was sullen and withdrawn. He threw his bag on his bed and stared down into his hands. In the days that followed, he resisted all attempts to befriend him.  Our counsellors were frustrated and confused - but they persevered. They made every effort to talk with him and to befriend him and eventually, the hard shell cracked. Jason, it turned out, had been bullied at school. Thinking himself worthless, he provoked negative attention, and expected to be bullied.  But no one bullied Jason at camp, and gradually, the real kid emerged. We discovered he was sweet-natured, loving and full of mischievous energy. He was likeable. A good guy. And by the time he left camp, Jason knew it, too.

As camp directors, you see first hand, again and again, how young lives are transformed by a positive summer camp experience. We’ve told Jason’s story many times over the years, never using the camper’s real name, of course. And we use it in our pre-camp staff training. We take all our staff down to the gravel road that leads into camp, and we have them make a line in front of us. Then, we scuff two footprints in the road. “These”, we say, “are the footprints of a child who will join us in a few days. He will arrive sullen and withdrawn - and leave smiling, confident of his own self worth. And what will make that difference?” I pull forward a new counsellor. “Anna will make a difference, because she will never turn her back on him, no matter how much he seems to invite her dislike.” I pull forward another new staff member. “Rachel will make a difference as his art teacher, because she will continue to encourage him, even though he tears up everything he paints.” A third new staff member. “Karen will make a difference, because when Jason is ready to talk she will make the time.” The fourth. “Jane will make a difference without every knowing it, by smiling over at Jason one day when he feels particularly alone.” The list goes on, until every staff member is standing beside me. The message is clear. Camp can be life-changing for a child; camp is the proverbial village that raises the child.

Most children we see at Centauri, are like the majority of kids you see every day in your own neighbourhood. Inspiring, positive, energetic and wonderful - brimming with potential. I’ve never met a camp director who didn’t end each summer full of hope for the future. I’ve never met a camp director who agreed with people who criticize the “youth of today”. But there’s no denying that growing up - particularly in today’s fast-paced, urban world - is far from easy. A positive overnight camp experience can provide positive role models and reinforce a sense of self worth at a critical time in a young person’s life. “When faced with fears and challenges in my life now,” writes one ex-camper, currently in her early twenties,  “I can think back to how loved and accepted I felt at camp. Going to Centauri was truly one of the best things that ever happened in my life. It showed me that there are people in the world who are kind and accepting, no matter what.”

For most youth, overnight camp is just one important component of a positive, supportive childhood. But for a small number, the experience can be critical. Recently, I was shopping downtown when from behind me I heard: “Hey! Camp Lady!” I turned to see a group of black youths walking towards me, all between the ages of eighteen and twenty. The largest - the leader - approached me, and clasped me in an unexpected bear hug. “I wanna thank you,” he said, “for what you did for my girl.” He spoke with such sincerity that I was touched, even though I had no idea who his ‘girl’ was. Then, behind him, the group broke ranks and his ‘girl’ stepped forward. Although I hadn’t seen her in five years, I knew immediately who she was. She had come to us as a new immigrant from West Africa, speaking no English and grief-stricken, because she had left her mom behind. She chose to take my writing workshops, producing longform poetry in French. It didn’t matter that my French was poor, because she wasn’t writing to be critiqued, she was writing as therapy. Sometimes, as she read out loud, she would cry. Other campers always rushed to comfort her, then the class would go back to normal, forming a safety net for her. And now here she was, all grown up, and smiling happily beside a young man who clearly adored and protected her. She told me, in perfect English, that she was about to start a degree in Environmental Science at McGill.  The young man beside her was silent while we spoke. Then, he repeated softly: “thank you for doin’ what you did for my girl.”

As camp directors, you don’t always hear from kids again, once their camp days are over. Except for the instances where you can make a quick and dramatic difference in the life of a child - as with Jason - you often have to guess at the difference camp may have made. For most children, you form one positive experience in a greater mosaic. But another exception stands out. Lindsay had been with us since the age of nine - a bright, confident, articulate kid. But she returned in her fourteenth summer a changed girl. Mom and dad had divorced, Lindsay started a destructive relationship with an older boy she met in a chat group, and she disappeared from home for more than a month. “I won’t lie to you,” her mother said, “I was shocked when Lindsay asked to come back to camp. I thought she’d outgrown it. And I am worried she won’t follow camp rules.” We weren’t. We knew Lindsay was fiercely protective of the special environment of camp, and the more the outside world disappointed her, the more she would want to see camp as an oasis.

Lindsay was barely recognizable when she arrived -  she had gained weight, and her eyes were deeply shadowed. Her camp friends embraced her as if nothing had changed. On the second day, she came to see me, choking back the tears. She said she was frightened she couldn’t do it. She no longer knew how to fit in. She didn’t know how to be a child. But if she couldn’t fit in at the place that mattered most to her, then who had she become? Lindsay and I had many conversations over the days that followed. She never allowed her recent past to impact camp friends, but often she would come sit with me, talking non-stop about how frightened and alone she felt. She knew we would never judge her or exclude her - as long as she didn’t allow her negative experiences to impact other campers. Quite the opposite: she saw their innocence as something to be fiercely protected.

Gradually, Lindsay was leaving her camp activities less and less, as the safe world of camp finally absorbed her. On the last night of camp, we have a ‘secret ceremony’ around the camp fire, when all the campers light candles under the stars, and reflect how the camp experience has changed them. That session, Lindsay stepped forward. She was something of an introvert, so it took a tremendous effort. “Coming to camp,” she said, “taught me I haven’t changed as much as I thought. I am still young enough to be a kid for a while. And I want to go to film school. I want to do something with my life.”

Several year later, out of the blue, I got an email from Lindsay. It was an invitation to the screening of her first, full-length documentary - one about the lives of children who grow up in refugee camps. She had never made it to film school - her personality was such that she needed to forge a pathway on her own. But there was no doubt in my mind, as I proudly watched her film, that she had made a life for herself that was worth something. There was no doubt that she truly was “someone with a future.” 

Though few transformations are as dramatic as this, every child’s life can be affected positively by an overnight camp experience. Happy, well adjusted nine year olds discover the triumph of overcoming homesickness and leaving at the end of a session with terrific friends and great memories. Talented twelve year olds discover what a joy it can be to spend a month in the presence of artists, musicians, dancers, writers or actors who are just as talented and just as driven as they are. Fourteen year olds brimming with potential gain the courage not to bow to peer pressure; they don’t need to look a certain way, nor have a certain body shape, to be liked, admired and respected. Sixteen year olds discover the value of one last summer being a kid; chasing after Joker in our Batman evening program, huddling together in pyjamas to listen to a bedtime story, and sharing their dreams for the future.

For most children, it is the small discoveries they make at overnight camp - discoveries about themselves and the world around them - that can change their life. They learn what it feels like to be part of a rich community of supportive, caring people. They discover that it is not only in their home communities that they can be valued and respected - but out in the wider world, too. They build skills, learn to be leaders, and discover how to meet challenges with positivity and resolve. Sometimes, however, it is the small epiphanies that can change a child’s life. One summer, on the last day of a session, I was walking across camp when a fourteen year old boy ran up to say goodbye. “Thank you for everything you gave me,” he said. “I came here wanting to be a lawyer. I still want to be a lawyer, but now I know that to be happy in my life, I need to be a lawyer who paints.”

Names, and some details, have been changed in these stories to protect the privacy of our campers and their families.

By Julie Hartley
Director, Centauri Summer Arts Camp