Take a few minutes and watch this moving video:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NiUo91x90j0
I don’t have a whole lot to add, the video was so well done. Hearing his voice break up is just heartbreaking.
We’re people who have given up so much to work on camp staff. Resigned, at least for a time, not to live a completely honest life, to hide such a big part of ourselves.
But we do it because we know we’re doing good work. Yes, of course, it’s a lot of fun (trust me, stand in front of 500 screaming campers making an absolute fool of yourself, it actually is fun), even though the hours are long, the pay is small and the food oftentimes leaves something to be desired.
But we knew that we were making a real difference in a kid’s life. Maybe not every kid that came through, but you knew the ones you had helped. The ones who didn’t want to leave at the end of the week, or who gave you their troop t-shirt. Or maybe it was the adult that you helped solve a problem in their unit, or the staff member who was having a rough time at home.
Living with your co-workers is a different and harrowing experience. And in such close quarters, it can be very trying. I’m thinking specifically of the way the staff lounge door used to slam shut (which sadly, has since been fixed. It was very distinctive, and anyone who worked at Freedom before 2004 will know the sound) and the alarm clock symphony we had each morning, coming from 20 different tents.
And the showers that you could barely control the temperature, the late, rainy nights moving floorboards, resetting the dining hall twice a week so you could still have a campfire program, even if it was indoors. We can remember the massive amounts of bluecards, the injuries incurred (oftentimes from campfires), the dehydration and the sickness.
But we can also remember the late nights talking with one another. Impromptu bonfires and sculptures made of milk crates. We can remember the early morning canoe trips when the horizon was blanketed in fog. We can remember sitting in a unit’s campsite, being welcomed by their hospitality with a cup of coffee (or tea).
And we can look back on opening and closing staff weeks, and the banquets, celebrating each year. We can look back on those we’ve lost and we can see in the current campers the next generation of camp staff.
And we know that camp has a positive affect (from a study conducted by Harris Interactive, selecting camps across the country, including the one I worked at):
- 96% felt they played a role in helping others succeed and grow
- 94% met new people
- 92% help others realize their own abilities
- 92% are with people they respect
- 92% build friendships
- 91% have fun
- 88% worked with others on a badge or task
- 86% try something new
- 84% listened to others’ opinions
- 81% of parents saw a positive change from their son/daughter attending camp
- 80% participate in decision making
- 80% made a new friend
- 80% are listened to by others
- 79% felt as though they were among friends
- 78% feel they accomplished something worthwhile
- 78% recommed camp to other scouts
- 76% receive positive reinforcement from an adult
- 76% learned a new skill from an adult
- 75% saw something they had never seen before
- 73% helped someone else accomplish something
- 72% receive positive reinforcement from a young person
- 72% learned a new skill from a young person
- 71% tested their mental/thinking ability
- 69% reflect on their relationship with God
- 68% participate in flag ceremonies
- 68% take time to reflect on what they’ve learned
- 67% participate in a religious service
- 65% learned about the environment
- 64% felt useful
- 53% helped others overcome conflict/arguments
So the question remains, why would the BSA want to turn away anyone who is willing to help make a difference in the life of a child. Someone who so desperately wants to work in a job that is oftentimes so hard to fill, just because of who he loves.
The BSA’s discrimination hurts young people who want to work on camp staff, but it also hurts the young people who come to camp. Why would the BSA want to deny those positive outcomes to any child, just because of how they were born, and who they will grow up to love.
All my best,
Mike
It Gets Better: If you need help, please, please talk to someone you trust. If you’re thinking of harming yourself, in a bad place, or don’t have anyone to talk to, please call the Trevor Project, the call is anonymous, and they’re there to listen to you: (866) 488-7386. We’re all here for you and we care about you. You are not alone. Please be safe.
