"How to prepare your kids for the social pressure cooker of camp" (or why I don't send my kids to camp)

I first came across the article, "How to prepare your kids for the social pressure cooker of camp," in the June issue of the North Toronto Post. I tried to comment but wasn't able to do so without a Facebook account. (The article irritated me, but not enough to induce me to join Facebook.) After a bit of online sleuthing, I found the same article on a certain overnight camp's website: it so happens that the article's author, who is a renowned restaurant critic in Toronto, is also the director of the "certain camp" in question. The article was cross-posted by the director herself to the camp's blog, and comments were—ostensibly—welcome. So I left a comment. A mildly critical comment. And then one day, out of curiosity, I revisited the camp website, only to find that the comment had been removed. I suppose its removal is not all that surprising. After all, parents who have thrown their kids into the camp's "social pressure cooker," in some cases for weeks on end, would be the people most likely to read the comment. But would it be a terrible thing to open up a true dialogue about the way kids' camps are structured and run? Would it be a terrible thing to question why we assume that "social pressure cooker" boot camps are good for kids?

This is the comment I left:

So why not schedule in some downtime? Why would I want to send my eight-year-old into a "hyper-stimulating,​" "high octane social pressure cooker"? What sane parent would? This description strikes me as encapsulating everything that is wrong with camp these days. Where is the camp for kids who want to enjoy nature, make friends, and have fun, but aren't interested in being "hyper-stimulated"?

(See also Camp Keep-Me-Busy)

All-Day Kindergarten

Recently, I wrote a guest post for Activekidsclub.com, a website devoted to promoting active, outdoor play for children. The post concerns all-day kindergarten, a program which the government here in Ontario has committed to providing for all 4- and 5-year-olds in the province by the year 2014. You can check it out here.

Camp and Play

Talk is cheap. Talk about the value of unstructured play for kids seems especially cheap these days. Cheap and abundant in the media and blogosphere, invaluable and scarce in the "real world."

An example: a few days ago, I received as an insert with my daily Globe and Mail, the glossy Our Kids Go To Camp summer camp guide (also available online). It seems a bit odd to receive such a guide in January, when the temperature is minus 24 with the wind chill. But I suppose it makes a certain sense: during the season of SAD we're more likely to pore over the beautiful pictures, fantasizing fondly about mosquito infested woods and heatwaves that make you actually want to take a dip in a freezing northern lake. Plus, from a practical perspective, the camp guide, which lists most overnight and day camps in Ontario (and some in Quebec), allows parents to plan in advance to ensure that they pick the right camp for their child, and that they enroll him or her early to avoid disappointment.

This year's guide, like those of past years, is full of articles extolling the benefits of camp for kids. There are, for example, a series of mini-interviews in which prominent people—ranging from reporter Jane Taber to entrepreneur Seth Godin—talk about their camp experience. There are also short informative articles about the various ways in which camp benefits kids. One short piece in particular by Lisa Van de Ven caught my eye. Entitled "The Value of Play," it begins with a statement about today's play-deprived kids:

Kids just want to have fun—and they need more of it, too. Many children today simply don’t get enough of unstructured playtime. “If you look at time in school, time at home, time watching TV, those things have either stayed consistent or gone up,” says Michelle Brownrigg, chief executive of Active Healthy Kids Canada. “But active playtime has decreased.”

No argument there. The article goes on to state:

Camp gives children the playtime they need while encouraging creativity and social engagement. “What’s really unique about the camp environment—whether it’s a day camp or an overnight camp—is the opportunity for kids to explore being active in creative ways that aren’t as adult-driven,” Brownrigg says.

Here's where I disagree. In a piece I posted last summer entitled Camp-Keep-Me-Busy, I argued the exact opposite: i.e., that the problem with many camps today is, they offer the same kind of overly-structured days filled with adult-directed activities as kids experience the rest of the year. The only difference is the type of structured activities offered and—in some instances—the natural backdrop.

If you have a minute, read the camp post and let me know what you think.

Recess Coaches

Not long ago, my daughters came home from school complaining about something called the Kilometre Club. A school newsletter explained the program as follows: "Students are encouraged to accumulate 50 K or more by running . . . on our track every Tuesday and Thursday. . . . .This initiative will help maintain and establish an endurance base for physical fitness and for other sports." According to my daughters, the teacher in charge of the program explained that the club would be especially beneficial for children who were misbehaving in school; running around the track at recess would allow these kids to let off steam. Participation in the Kilometre Club was ostensibly voluntary, however, somewhere along the line, organizers thought it might be a good idea if everyone ran around the track at recess. So for a while all the kids were being "strongly encouraged" to run laps, not just on the designated days, but every day. It was around this time that my daughters started complaining about the program. They did not like being told how to spend their recess time. One of their best friends happens to be an avid distance runner—and even she did not want to run laps during the precious 15-minute breaks at school. I suggested to my daughters that if they didn't enjoy running laps, they should simply not do it. After all, as I pointed out to them, they are already physically active with their friends at recess, and this is the one time in the school day when they are purportedly free to play as they see fit. I also observed that even if teachers are "strongly encouraging" kids to run laps, the implication is that there is still some choice in the matter.

To make a long story short, my daughters and their friends stopped running laps, and the program seemed—thankfully—to fizzle out.

But, after reading this newspaper article about recess coaches in schools in St. Catharines, Ontario, I'm beginning to realize that the problem of adult encroachment on recess is much more widespread than I thought. Below is the comment I posted about the article on the newspaper's website site. It pretty much sums up my thoughts on the issue:

I think this program is well-intentioned but ultimately wrong. Kids need some time and space to themselves, where adults are not interfering and organizing. Do kids not have enough organized activities already? And aren't self-organized activities better in the long run in terms of the skills they teach kids? If exclusion is an issue, that can be dealt with separately in empathy and anti-bullying programs. But for goodness sake, let's put a stop to the ongoing colonization of kids' space and time by adults (however well-meaning). When I was young, we played many, many self-organized games similar to Octopus; our large "street" groups were flexible, permeable, multi-aged and inclusive. My own daughters play games like Octopus and Four-Square during recess at school without any help from "coaches." Everyone is allowed to play—in fact, they modified Four-Square and renamed it Fun Square, so that it wasn't limited to four kids. Give kids the benefit of the doubt—and a little freedom—and they might surprise you!

"Balanced Day" = Less Play

Recess—the last bastion of free play for school-aged children—is under attack. Unstructured break time for children has been eliminated or drastically cut in many American elementary schools, and now I learn that it is being eroded in my home province of Ontario as well. In a number of school boards across the province, a program called Balanced School Day (BSD) has been introduced. Under this program, traditional lunch and recess breaks are replaced by two"nutrition breaks" of approximately 40 minutes each, one in the morning and one in the afternoon. When compared with the traditional schedule of two 15-minute recess breaks (one in the morning and one in the afternoon), and an hour-long lunch period, BSD cuts the total break time children receive during the day by a mere 10 minutes. So, one might ask, what's the big deal? If, as proponents of BSD claim, restructuring the school day in this manner allows for longer instructional blocks, leading to improvements in students' concentration and behaviour, why would anyone (such as me) object to it?

The answer to this question becomes clear when one compares the two scheduling models more closely. In the traditional schedule, kids get a total of 30 minutes of pure recess time, and a lunch period comprised of, on average, a 20-minute period for eating, followed by 40 minutes of outdoor play time. That's a total of 70 minutes of unstructured play time per day. In the Balanced Day schedule, the twice-daily nutrition breaks are each divided into two twenty minute blocks, one for eating and one for outdoor play. So BSD allows for a total of 40 minutes of free play per day, versus 70 minutes under the traditional schedule. As even a young child with minimal math skills could tell you, this is a substantial difference!

In fact, according to a study of BSD in four elementary schools in the Hamilton-Wentworth District School Board from 2002-2004, kids do seem to notice and to care about the reduction in recess time. The authors of the report observe that along with certain benefits—for example, a cleaner school, less time wasted in "transitions" from playground to school—there were some negative effects of the alternative schedule. There was, for example, "somewhat more total aggression on the playground in BSD schools and somewhat more hallway aggression during transition times." As for overall satisfaction with BSD, the authors concede: "The students . . . were least satisfied with the new schedule." I'm happy that students' opinions were solicited; I'm not surprised that they would prefer a schedule that better accommodates their need—and their right—to play. But since principals, caretakers, parents, teachers and secretaries tended to view BSD in a more positive light, I'm also not surprised that the program has since become the norm in a majority of schools throughout the Hamilton-Wentworth board, and has been implemented in many other school boards across the province. After all, even in situations where students are affected more directly by potential changes than anyone else, when push comes to shove, and policy decisions must be made, adults' views invariably trump those of children. Currently, it seems that a majority of adults in charge of education policy privilege measures purporting to improve "achievement" over those concerned primarily with the well-being of children. That is why—for all the talk of "nurturing" environments, and despite nominally progressive, well-intentioned policies such as BSD—many schools remain fundamentally un-child-friendly places for young people to spend their days.


*In fairness, it is possible to find more unequivocally positive accounts of BSD, for example, on websites of the school boards that have embraced it. There also exist summaries of the research paper cited above that put a much more positive spin on the results, ignoring the negatives identified by the authors. The fact remains, however, that students surveyed for the Hamilton-Wentworth study—the only objective, in-depth look at BSD to date—expressed a clear preference for the traditional schedule.

Camp Keep-Me-Busy

I always assumed my daughters would go to overnight camp. Well, not really assumed; hoped, perhaps. It's not that I'm the type of parent who panics at the prospect of spending two months with children hanging around the house. I believe in a lot of free, unstructured time for kids, and I provide my girls with plenty of it every summer and throughout the year. It's just that I thought there would come a time when my daughters would want to go to overnight camp. After all, I went to camp, my husband went to camp, most of our friends went to camp. It just seemed like the Canadian thing to do (okay, the Canadian-of-a-certain-class thing to do, but allow me to ignore that not-insignificant point for the sake of argument): Spend a couple of weeks on the Canadian shield learning to appreciate all things natural.

When my daughters were young they tried out a variety of summer day camps; their reaction to those experiences were at best lukewarm and at worst downright hostile. Too much hurrying around in the morning, they complained, too much structure, too much like school or day-care. In fact, I came to the conclusion that most day camps are in reality glorified daycare. They have proliferated enormously in the last several decades to accommodate the fact that, more often than not, two parents are working during most of the summer break. This is not a bad thing; on the contrary, day camps are clearly providing a much needed service, but it means that we should not necessarily expect day camp to furnish our kids with a carefree, "camp-like" experience.

I understood this, and when my girls put their foot down and refused to attend day camp, insisting on safeguarding their free time, both at the cottage and in the city, I acquiesced. I watched as they made up their own games, both indoors and out, and read book after book after book. How could I object to that?

But, I thought, overnight camp is different. Overnight camp is where kids get to enjoy the true camping experience. Blue lakes and rocky shores. Singing camp songs around the camp fire, pitching tents, canoeing on crystalline northern waters.

My daughters turned eleven this year, and still they show no interest in overnight camp. Most of their friends are now attending camp for several weeks every summer, but my two are still holding out, resistant, suspicious. To encourage them to keep an open mind, I showed them the websites of some of the camps their friends are attending. This turned out to be a mistake. The girls took one look at the sample schedules and balked. With reason. A "typical day at camp," proudly advertised, ran something like this: Up at 7:00 a.m., flagpole at 7:30, breakfast at 8:00, three morning activities, lunch, rest period, three afternoon activities, swimming, dinner, after-dinner activities, and lights out around 10:00 pm. I was exhausted even looking at it. Yes, sprinkled throughout the day were some of the "traditional" activities that I remembered, such as canoeing, archery, and arts and crafts. But there were also things like "softball," "ultimate Frisbee," and "aerobics." One camp had even built a skate park.

I don't remember camp being so busy. We had scheduled activities, maybe two in the morning and one in the afternoon, but I also remember having a lot of time to chat with cabin-mates, hang out on the beach or rocks or just read. Evening activities were not nightly, and mostly took the form of sing-songs around a campfire or roasting marshmallows. Nowadays the emphasis seems to be on keeping kids busy. One of the camps we looked at proudly boasts: "Because every day at camp is crammed with activities, there is never a dull moment." Another states, "With over 28 activities to choose from . . . there's just no time to be bored!" At yet another camp, campers are reassured that the cabins are comfortable, then warned: "Don't get too comfortable though because you don't spend much time in your cabin!" I understand that at camp the emphasis is on the outdoors, but why are today's campers not allowed a certain amount of time to . . . I don't know, relax, laze about with their friends, read? When did the "rah rah" types, the kind of people who believe that only by pushing kids, both mentally and physically, will you achieve "results" (whatever that may mean in the context of camp) take over camping? When did camp counselor morph into gym teacher or sports coach?

The problem with this camping model is that it simply doesn't suit all children. My kids, for instance, while they are open to experiencing new activities, need their down time. They need sleep. They are slightly introverted, though not unsociable, yet almost all the camps we looked at seemed geared to extroverts. Where is the camp with the relaxed, sane schedule, where the needs of extroverts and introverts are respected and catered to? Where is the camp that emphasizes nature over junk-sports and keep-'em busy activities? If such a camp existed, I believe my daughters would be interested, and I would send them. If you know of such a camp, please let me know.