The first full day of the session, as was today, means several things. First, it’s a chance for the campers to become more familiar with the property and activity areas, to get a better sense of where everything is located. Following their camp tour yesterday, now they venture off on their own to the Alpine climbing tower, the Hillside Lodge for yoga, or Curosty for weaving, for example. There are almost 30 different things to do— organized activities available during the scheduled activity periods —and each has a “home” somewhere in camp.
Imagine all the little pockets of activity spread around Rockbrook… Outdoor adventure instructors explaining how to use special equipment, arts and crafts teachers introducing cool sewing, pottery, or weaving projects, horses being tacked up, bows and arrows nocked. If you scan through today’s photo gallery, you can see the variety of things going on. These girls are impressive already!
What’s even more impressive though, and probably more significant in the long run, is the independence this first day of camp has already brought about in your girls. Remember, at Rockbrook, the campers select their own activities while at camp. Often after much discussion with friends about the options, and “what are you gonna take?” kinds of questions, everyone selects 4 different activities they will try for the first half of the week. For each activity rotation, which happens twice per week, the girls themselves decide how to spend their activity time. Furthermore, during the blocks of free time scheduled throughout the day— before lunch, before dinner, and after dinner —the campers can decide to do even more independent things. With a friend, they might head to the lake for a ride down the water slide, go to the tennis courts to hit a few balls, challenge someone at the tetherball court, or just hang out on the grassy hill enjoying the mountain view.
The very structure of our day, in other words, encourages this budding independence for Rockbrook girls. As they select their daily activities (“Riflery or Drama? Hmmm…”) and decide on their own how to spend free time (“I want to go play in the creek!”), as well as navigate from place to place throughout the day, all while listening for the bell to help make it on time, they grow increasingly confident. They learn firsthand that “I can do it myself.”
As you see your girls smiling and enjoying themselves doing any of the regular in-camp activities offered everyday at camp, at least part of that smile arises from the simple satisfaction, and maybe a little pride, that follows her successful experience of independence. And that’s pretty cool stuff.
I was six years old when I found the ravine. I had heard my older sisters talk about the ravine before, of course, but they had all firmly refused to show me where it was. They had mostly grown out of their days of playing outside by the time I set out to find it, but still they felt there was a certain importance in my finding it on my own—a sort of rite of passage.
And so, every day after first grade, I would press out on my own into the trees behind my house, in search of the ravine (it should be noted that I did not actually know, at the time, what a ravine was—I was, however, assured that I would know it when I saw it).
I don’t remember how long it took me, how many days of searching before I stumbled across it. I don’t remember the season, month, weather, or day of the week it was when I finally emerged from the trees and saw what was, unmistakably, The Ravine—all of those details have faded away across the years. What I do remember was the sense of absolute exhilaration that I felt when I saw the slope of massive gray rocks descending steeply into the stream at the bottom. I had found it: the place for kids, the place where adults never went. This was my place.
My family moved out of that house a few years later, cutting short my time with the ravine. I haven’t been back there since I was a child, but the place still looms large in my imagination as being as big and profound a spot as the Grand Canyon itself. A cursory glance at the land behind my old house on Google Earth, however, tells me that it was nothing more than a (slightly) glorified drainage ditch that stretched for about thirty yards above ground before disappearing beneath it.
My mother’s thoughts on the ravine (once we finally told her, about a year ago, that it had once been our favorite hangout) were less generous still. To her adult eyes, it had been nothing more than a smelly, mosquito-ey, (probably) vermin-infested dump, and she was horrified that we had spent so much time there.
But to us, then and in our memories still, it was paradise.
Thinking about it today, with sensibilities that have been honed by several years of working with children at camp, the thought of a six year old tramping off into the woods by herself makes me immensely nervous. What if I had fallen? What if I had come across a dangerous animal? What if I had tripped and gotten stuck between two of those heavy boulders, and no one had known where to find me? What if I had drowned, or been eaten by a bear, or gotten lost and wandered around aimlessly through the wilds of Mississippi until my parents had given up on ever finding me?
As you can probably guess, none of those things happened. I think I fell and skinned my knee once, but, as tragedies go, that’s not the worst, and I did feel pretty cool walking through the back door at the end of the day with my very own battle wound.
I rarely think about the ravine anymore, but recently I read an article called “The Overprotected Kid,” by Hanna Rosin, and memories of the place came flooding back. Rosin talks at length of the modern lack of once ubiquitous childhood spaces such as mine. I’d imagine a lot of the parents reading this can remember a place of their very own where they went to play. A secret place, usually outside, where they and their friends built forts, played hide and seek, and settled their own problems and sought out their own, individual accomplishments. A place where their parents rarely, if ever, went. I wonder how many of today’s children could say that they have such a place?
Between school, extracurricular activities, and family time at home, modern children spend less and less time away from the direct supervision of adults. On first thought, this seems like a great thing. It’s a dangerous world, after all. If they are always near adults, then we can keep them from taking unnecessary risks, we can intervene when they have conflicts with their siblings or friends, and we can guide them through every challenge that comes their way. If we are vigilant enough, as parents and childcare professionals, then we can protect children from ever suffering the sting of failure, or the anxiety that accompanies facing a new challenge.
But, of course, there is a backlash to this constant supervision. Shield them too much from any sort of discomfort, any sort of risk, any sort of failure, then when the inevitable day comes that they are faced with these things, they might be unequipped to handle it for themselves.
So how do we find the balance between protecting children, and giving them the freedom they need to grow and develop on their own?
You guessed it.
We call Rockbrook “A place where girls can grow” for a reason: 2-4 weeks spent in the heart of our wooded mountain gives girls the chance to make a world for themselves. It gives them the chance to try new things and face the very real chance that they just might not be any good at it: maybe they’ll never hit the target in archery, but they’ll try it anyway. It gives them the chance to craft their own set of cabin rules with their peers, and teaches them to hold themselves and each other accountable, without the interference of adults. It teaches them to find the joy of climbing to the very top of the mountain, while still having an appreciation and respect for the risks and struggles it takes to get there. It gives them the chance to grow.
I’m certainly not saying that campers at Rockbrook are unsupervised—far from it. They are always within sight and earshot of at least one counselor, adventure guide, or director. But the beauty of staffing our camp with college-age counselors is that they are in the unique position of being at once an authority figure, and a “cool” older kid, around whom our campers feel entirely comfortable to be their quirky, crazy, energetic selves.
We value our counselors for the responsibility and trustworthiness for which we hired them. The camp girls value our counselors because they can behave more naturally with them than they would with “normal” adults (they know, for example, that their counselors will not bat an eye should they spontaneously decide to show up at dinner wearing a batman costume and a tiara).
We give the campers supervision that doesn’t feel like supervision. We let them take risks—like climbing up rock-faces and hurtling down whitewater rapids in a raft—that feel like risks, but are supervised by professionals who know exactly how to keep them safe. When the campers fight with one another, often we let them work out the dispute among themselves. We’ll be nearby, and will intervene if necessary, but we know that they have the tools necessary to solve their own problems, and they will be the stronger for it afterward.
They might gain some bumps and bruises along the way. You might pick up your child on closing day with a freshly skinned knee, or a bee sting, or a story of the unkind words a fellow camper said to her. But delve deeper into these stories and you’ll find that the skinned knee was acquired on an incredible hike to the top of Looking Glass Rock. The bee sting hurt, sure, but a counselor or nurse was standing by with an Epi-pen, just in case, and now your daughter has learned all about the signs that might signal anaphylactic shock. Maybe she never quite came to like the girl who said unkind things, but she did learn that she has the strength and maturity to live peacefully with a person that she’s not fond of—a skill that we all know can come in handy later in life.
There’s no need to worry that, in sending your child off to camp, you are letting them loose in the world of “Lord of the Flies.” We have plenty of rules and procedures in place designed to keep all of our campers as safe as possible. Safety is always our first priority. But our very close second priority is to offer the girls a world in which they have agency, responsibility, and daily experiences that challenge them, and even make them a little nervous or uncomfortable.
Not to worry—they won’t be hiking off into the woods by themselves in search of nearby ravines, as I once did. But I can promise you that every single camper will experience, at least once in their time at Rockbrook, that same exhilaration I felt the first time I ever felt a sense of ownership over an accomplishment that was fully and completely my own.
How we spend our Sundays at Rockbrook is a little different than other days of the week. It begins at a relaxed pace by sleeping in a little later, resting a little longer, and instead of doing cabin chores and getting dressed for breakfast right away, the girls shuffle into the dining hall still dressed in PJs and robes- literally, just rolling out of bed. There’s a special “real world” treat waiting for them too- boxes of freshly delivered Krispy Kreme doughnuts to supplement the regular fruit, cereal and yogurt bar, and today, Rick’s perfectly scrambled eggs.
The campers then dressed in their camp uniforms, which for Rockbrook means a white polo shirt, white shorts and a red tie, and assembled on the camp hill for our flag raising ceremony just in time for the sun to rise over the mountain behind camp. From there it’s a short walk along the “path of silence” to the Chapel area of camp. The Middler campers and their counselors led the Chapel this morning. They chose to sing songs, read poems and other meaningful passages, all revolving around the theme of gratitude. These gatherings are not religious ceremonies for us (they do not include readings from religious texts, for example), but rather are opportunities for the girls to reflect upon their time at camp and the broad human values and feelings that strengthen our community. We want girls of all backgrounds, no matter what their religious beliefs, to feel comfortable and included at Rockbrook, so our Chapel gatherings, set so beautifully in the woods, reflect that priority.
Meanwhile today, we also welcomed our July Mini 2 campers to Rockbrook for the start of their session. As they rode up the driveway with their trunks and duffel bags packed (in some cases, packed for weeks in anticipation!), it was absolutely clear that these girls were more than ready for camp to get started. They wanted to rush through the check in process, barely containing their enthusiasm, fidgeting while the nurses and the office checked things out. Up in their cabins, they finally got to meet their counselors and cabin mates, select their bunk, and settle down. All of this doesn’t take long, so parents are sometimes surprised how quickly they are “dismissed” by their daughters. “I got this, mom.” It can even be a little unsettling to see your girl skip off with her friends with just a wave or sly smile, but it’s good to remember that Rockbrook is her camp, not yours. It’s a place for her to be herself, grow up a little, try lots of new things and build really strong friendships. And all of this on her own! It’s a special recipe for encouraging independence and growing self confidence. Such good stuff.
After lunch a brief thundershower cooled things off and cleared up in time for the whole camp to charge up for a wet and wild carnival down on our sports field. A group of counselors, with the help of Frampton, Charlotte and Sofie, organized the event which included an inflatable obstacle course and water slide. The girls came dressed in their swimsuits and ready to get wet. There were sprinklers spraying, water pistols for just about everyone, water balloons and a bucket dumping game to satisfy that desire. The girls played the RBC corn hole game to win silly prizes, made small sand art bottles, tossed Pocket Discs around the field, and ran around stopping to hula hoop between getting a face painting design.
For snacks we had goldfish, an endless supply of snow cones, and drinks for everyone. Bringing the whole camp together for this kind of raucous event, mini and full session girls alike, is a great way to kick things off for the new girls. They can let loose right away, and by the end of the afternoon, they’re already feeling at home. I took a short video of this crew you see below. It’s posted on the Rockbrook YouTube channel and is very cute.
We’ve often said that attending a kids summer camp like Rockbrook helps children become more self-sufficient and independent. But how does it work? What is it about being at camp that makes this kind of growth possible?
One secret is that camp provides a structured environment where we give children the chance to make their own choices and decisions. At Rockbrook, the girls choose their own activity schedule, rotating to new choices twice a week. There are these structured activity times and plenty of open times throughout the day, thus providing both adult supervision and limits within which the girls feel free to decide what to do. Altogether, camp is a place where kids find success (not to mention tons of fun!), through their own efforts, making choices.
It’s no wonder so many people think of their camp experiences as the most important thing they did as a child.
