Last Sunday, I invited our Okees, our oldest boys in camp, down to my house for a conversation in my den.
These boys are entering the heart of their final summer at Camp Takajo. There are incredible experiences ahead of them, and I know how badly they want to soak up every last moment with their best friends. But, with the privilege of being an Okee comes an enormous responsibility.
These are 15-year-old boys, many on the cusp of getting their driver’s licenses and entering a stage of life where the margin for error begins to shrink. Peer pressure and impulsivity are very real at this age, so is the desire to be popular, to be funny, and to gain the approval of one’s friends. There can also be a perception that Okee year is a rite of passage, and that, after spending so many summers at camp, our oldest boys have somehow earned free reign of the place without the same responsibilities that apply to everyone else.
Nothing could be further from the truth.
That is why I wanted to sit with these boys early in the summer, in a calm and comfortable environment, and have a thoughtful, open conversation about leadership. What does it mean to be accountable for one’s actions? What does it mean to understand that actions have consequences? Consequences do not necessarily mean punishment. At this age, it is equally important for these young men to recognize how their decisions affect those around them and shape the way others perceive them.
We spoke at great length about creating goals for their final summer that we could all agree to and embrace. Adding bumper pool tables to the Senior Rec Hall was an easy yes; sneaking out in the wee hours of the morning and breaking into the dining hall is a hard no. Taking on the responsibility of leading their respective Takajo Families, serving as the head of the household at weekly cookouts with younger boys who look up to and idolize them, is an easy yes; creating a culture that is anything less than what we express in our code of conduct is a hard no.
I am a big proponent of having these conversations before the point of struggle. It is far more effective to establish expectations during a calm moment, in an environment conducive to open discussion, than to wait until emotions are high and one’s ability to receive constructive criticism is low.
For years, these boys looked up to the oldest campers in camp. Now, they are those boys. Our youngest campers know who the Okees are. They watch them walk through camp. They look for them at Takajo Family Cookouts. When an Okee walks into a younger boy’s bunk at night, he may not fully appreciate the significance of his presence. But to that little boy, one of the biggest and oldest campers in camp has come to spend time with him.
I reminded our Okees that leadership is not defined by a title. It is not about being the loudest person in the room or the best athlete on the field. It is about how one carries himself when others are watching; and, perhaps more importantly, when he thinks they are not.
Our Okees set the tone for this camp. When they shake an opponent’s hand after a difficult loss, our younger boys notice. When they pick up a teammate, show respect to a counselor, or put the needs of the group ahead of their own, our younger boys notice.
And when they fall short, others notice that, too. That is the responsibility of leadership.
Our Okees have spent years growing up together at Camp Takajo. In their younger years, their world was largely defined by their bunk, but they are no longer simply members of separate cabins. They are an age group, a band of brothers with the responsibility to lead their camp.
We can talk to younger boys about kindness, respect, sportsmanship, moral character, and making good decisions. But there is no lesson more powerful than watching someone they admire live those values.
Our Okees are on their way out. With each passing week, they move closer to the end of their camping years. But before they leave, they have an opportunity to give something back to the place that has given them so much.
The younger boys are watching. My hope is that our Okees understand the significance of that responsibility and embrace the opportunity to become the kind of leaders they once looked up to and the kind of leaders our society needs.
