Today, I spent some time in my office with a pre-adolescent Senior camper who is having a difficult stretch. (Don’t email me; it’s not your son!)
We weren’t talking about activities he dislikes or counselors he doesn’t get along with. In fact, as we talked, he acknowledged that instead of trying to build connections and enjoy his time at camp, his focus has shifted almost entirely to Visiting Day—thinking about it, counting down to it, and quietly building his case for why he should go home when it arrives. I’ve seen this movie before.
Homesickness has a way of convincing a child that happiness is waiting somewhere else. Every minute spent thinking about home is a minute not spent investing in the people and experiences happening right in front of him. Before long, the child isn’t participating in camp anymore. He’s participating in his homesickness.
As a parent, I understand how heartbreaking these conversations can be. Every instinct tells us to make the pain go away. Sometimes, with the very best of intentions, parents become swept up in the emotion of the moment. In trying to relieve the discomfort, they unintentionally prolong it, rather than helping their child discover that he is capable of doing something difficult.
The truth is, growth rarely happens when we’re comfortable. There’s an old expression that says the same fire that melts metal also forges steel. Discomfort can either overwhelm us or strengthen us. The difference often lies in whether we retreat from it or work through it.
When a boy is having a hard day, I usually encourage him to do one of two things. The first is to find his friends and join them, even if they’re headed to an activity that wouldn’t normally be his first choice. It’s amazing how quickly a day can turn around when you’re laughing alongside people you enjoy being with.
The second is to immerse himself in the activity he loves most. Whether it’s basketball, sailing, woodworking, tennis, ceramics, or fishing, doing something that brings him joy not only distracts him from what he’s feeling, but often introduces him to other boys who share that same passion.
Neither solution involves sitting in the bunk thinking about tomorrow. Both involve engaging in today.
Our goal at Takajo has never been to eliminate every challenge your son encounters. It is to surround him with caring adults who believe in him and encourage him long enough for him to begin believing in himself.
I’ve watched hundreds of boys arrive convinced they couldn’t make it. Many of those same boys leave six-and-a-half weeks later wondering why they ever doubted themselves. Camp didn’t become easier; they became stronger.
