When I was a kid I dreamed of going to sleep-away camp. That's where it all happened. Whatever monumental (or even somewhat meaningful) thing that was going to happen to you in your young life required a backdrop of campfire sing-alongs, compulsory activities, demonstrations of athletic inferiority, and matching shirts. There seemed to be little to do with actual sleep.
I resigned myself to the fact that I would never experience such wonders. For one, it was financially and logistically impossible for my family. For another, it was hard enough for me to make it through the occasional sleep-over without becoming unbearably homesick. The reality of sleep-away camp was not for me, but the idea of it was so powerful that twenty years later I packed up my family and headed us off to the Catoctin Mountains. Four days of homeschool family sleep-away camp.
Adam called it Bike and Scooter World because with sixty children and paved paths winding through the dormitories and common spaces of the large camp, what else would it be? I like to think of it as My Flirtation with Communal Living. We shared responsibilities like cooking and cleaning. We ate together. We looked after each other's children. There were no matching shirts, no compulsory activities, and even the campfire sing-along got rained out on the last night, but the reality of sleep-away camp was better than the idea.
The food was better than I'd expected, too. Some people seemed to view their cooking night as a chance to flex their culinary muscles. The dishes were mostly vegetarian and some vegan. Our contributions, chosen for their ease of preparation and transportability, were embarrassing. The baked sweet potatoes and homegrown salad were too basic next to the vichyssoise. The vegetarian chili, which was hearty and flavorful at home on Saturday, was watery and slightly charred after defrosting and reheating on Wednesday. We like to think ourselves quite capable in the kitchen. We do not like to serve boring or unappetizing food. We avoided eye contact with anyone in the kitchen that evening.
The setting was lovely— green, tranquil (when there wasn't a kid flying past you on a scooter), with open spaces and secluded nooks. The weather was mild and fairly cooperative, except for two rainy nights and a brief hailstorm. And for those times when scooting, biking, and wandering unburdened by adult anxieties, got to be old—which was never for my children— there were scheduled activities. Some of the most memorable offerings were: sushi-rolling, rock-painting, friendship bracelet knotting, hiking, yoga, and the ever-popular "Capture the Flag."
There were some bumps and bruises, literal and figurative. Sol wiped out on his bike attempting a stunt on a course the children dubbed "The Devil's Pass." Luna disappeared for about ten minutes on the last day. We found her, after searching the entire camp, waiting in the van with her doppleganger. Adam deserted us for a wi-fi connection at a McDonald's in town so he could follow Steve Jobs's keynote address. It was our first day at camp, and I was a bit overwhelmed. And annoyed. My personal hurdle was shaking the feeling that I was someone's blind-date for a family reunion. Everyone seemed to know everyone else. They were all part of the same homeschooling group or had been participating in this camp for years. It's hard to keep that kind of intimacy from too-closely resembling exclusivity, but there was very little of that. In fact, I can't say when I've been around a more welcoming group of people.
There was the added bonus of being the only black girl at the party, which is not a new experience for me, but each time a surprise. (I am relearning my balancing techniques as I familiarize myself with the homeschooling communities around here. We belong to one support group for black families and one unschooling group that does not specify, but seems to attract mostly white families.) There is a homeschool family camp in August sponsored by African American Unschooling. I'm still exhausted from the last camp but am seriously considering it.
One of the great bonuses of "learning all the time" is that we are free to wander as far and as frequently as we choose. Sol said, "We homeschool, but we are hardly ever at home." This is true. Another recently uncovered truth: there is little sleep at sleep-away camp.
