It’s Wednesday night at 9:30 pm as I send this, and I can still hear the echoes of hundreds of voices singing together tonight.
But before we even get to that, you already know that late this afternoon, the kids arrived at camp.
There was the best kind of nervous energy everywhere. At our bus stops, parents doing that thing where you smile bravely while your heart does somersaults, as you waved goodbye through the bus windows.
Hours later, newly arrived kids clutching pillows, fishing poles, and hockey sticks, scanning for familiar faces, wondering what the summer held.
By dinner, kids are always still finding their footing. New bunkmates. New counselors. New everything, even if you’re returning. But then 7:30 pm rolled around, and we started one of my favorite camp traditions.
Opening Night
Kids filed in after dinner. It’s hard to describe the buzz. Returning campers trying to explain to the new kids what’s going on without giving too much away. Some bouncing with excitement, others hanging back a bit.
The veterans with knowing smiles, the first-timers wondering what could possibly have everyone so worked up.
Then our staff took the stage.
They opened with the traditional song “Hey, We Are Your Counselors,” we’ve been singing since the ’60s. Every counselor up there together. And then came the skits.
Three-minute bursts of pure silliness. Some truly ridiculous costumes. Dancing with abandon. Forgetting every rule about playing it “cool”.
It was yet another year of watching the campers’ faces change.
First confusion. Is our counselor really doing that? Then surprise. They’re all doing it. Together. On purpose. Then something clicked. The realization that this wasn’t like school, where standing out marks you as different. This was camp. Where being yourself, being silly, taking risks, was and is the whole point.
By the third skit, everyone is laughing. Really laughing. Not polite giggles but full-throated joy. They were seeing their counselors as they really are. Human. Funny. Unafraid.
And I have to tell you, I have a “moment” here. Something I wait for all year.
It’s breaking out the guitar and playing “Home”, the Phillip Phillips song that’s become something of a camp anthem. I try to carry the tune, but what really wins with this is when the 180 staff join in on stage. We aren’t trying to make this a performance. It’s more an invitation.
Because by the chorus, the entire hall is part of the song. Kids who might have been nervous a bit ago have that feeling dissolve. Those “too cool” kids are part of it as well.
This is when camp begins. Not when the buses arrive. Not when the bunks are assigned. But in this moment, when everyone realizes they belong.
Why This Matters
When we reached lights out, you could already see the difference.
Kids who stepped off the bus anxious and uncertain were now chattering excitedly with their bunkmates about what activity to try first. The homesick tears we sometimes see on night one? Barely any.
Instead, I heard laughter drifting from cabins. Plans being made. Friendships already beginning.
Opening night sets the tone for everything that follows.
That this is a place where taking emotional risks pays off. Where being yourself completely is the highest achievement. Where fitting in means standing out. Your children heard that promise tonight. And they believed it.
As I write this, taps has blown and day is done, but the summer has just begun in the very best of ways.
I’m anticipating what tomorrow morning will bring. Kids who were strangers just 12 hours before will be saving seats for each other.
The nervous quiet of arrival has been replaced by the buzz of belonging. Your children aren’t just at camp.
They’re home.
With gratitude for the summer ahead,
Scott