I was raised on a song there
I've done right
I've done wrong there
Yes, it's true, I belong there
Yes, it's true, it's my home

So go the lyrics to my favorite camp song, and they are probably some of the most true. I have had many homes in my life, but there is still no place I feel more comfortable, more confidant, more at home, than Camp Little Notch. Although I only spent several weeks a year at the Girl Scout camp in New York’s Adirondack Mountains, I feel very strongly that it is where I did most of my growing up.

At home, I learned to be shy. In elementary school, I was just one of those kids who did not fit in and was the frequent target of what many call a rite of passage: bullying. I had a seemingly odd love of wolves, was not athletic in the least, and was best friends with the heaviest girl in our grade.  I learned that, like in the game of tag, if you stand still and try to blend into the background, people will often times leave you alone. This was the attitude I carried all throughout my grade school and is one that I am still in the process of freeing myself of as a high school student entering her senior year.

While all this was going on during the school year, the summer was an entirely different experience. Camp began for me in fourth grade. I honestly do not remember my parents sitting me down and asking if I wanted to go to camp, but I certainly do remember my first camp experience. I was crying. The yellow bus had just pulled away from my mother and I was never good at leaving any place familiar. A counselor quickly sat down next to me and asked what my name was and what was wrong. Whatever she said must have worked, because the next thing I remember is enthusiastically learning my first camp song not five minutes later.

At camp, I was in an entirely new environment with no one I knew and no one that knew me. I won’t lie; it was a shock, and it was scary at first. However, because no one had any expectations of my personality, I had to set new precedents. What’s more, I did not feel like I needed to fade into the background in order to survive. For all these girls knew, I was the most popular kid in my school, and somehow, my 10-year-old self realized this.

It was by no means a complete 180 turn. I still was afraid of being noticed. I did not try to hide, though. As I participated, I came even more out of my shell. Not only was I encouraged to try new things, it was required of me. I learned how to build a fire, how to make a friendship bracelet, and of course, many, many songs. These skills may not seem all that necessary in the real world, but they affected that little girl immensely. Each skill was learned without the help of a parent or teacher, only the guidance of a counselor who was not so old herself. I could do things on my own. I was worth something. I gained confidence, and that is certainly a skill that is useful in any setting.

This camp spirited me through many difficult years. It saw me through my parents’ divorce, a death in the family, graduation from elementary school, and that scary experience called Junior High. Each summer, I could go back to a place where I knew I would be happy and safe. The first time I cried on my way up to camp would be my last. After that first week, I ran to the bus, eager to leave for the middle of the woods.

In 2006, something new happened. The staff of camp was completely replaced. Although many counselors only spent a year or so working at camp, there were many still that I had known since I started in 2001. I was sad at first. It was another shock that I had not expected. This was the year that I was going into high school and suddenly more was changing. But, as I stood in a large circle waiting to give my name to the group, I made a snap decision. I would be somebody new again. As the attention came to me, I gave a different name. I gave a name I had been using as a pen name: Kit. And so I came to be known as Kit.

That summer was one of my favorites. In one of my groups, everyone seemed to fit in. We even made an association out of four of us who shared a tent: PBJS for our last initials. I think this was so important to me because I so enjoy being a part of something. I, like many others, love feeling like I belong, and this particular summer taught me that I could belong at camp. Furthermore, I met someone that summer who I now feel very proud to call my friend: Rachel Hallock. At first, I’ll admit, I could not stand her. She was very, very bubbly and outgoing while I was very not. However, in the wonderful ways of camp, I was forced to interact with her until I could tolerate her and, eventually, until I enjoyed her company.

The second year I spent with Rachel involved a two-week-long canoe trip. She, five other girls, two counselors, and I voyaged along the Connecticut River, carrying all we needed for survival with us in four canoes. It was a unique experience that I would not trade for anything else and would repeat in a heartbeat. That kind of self-sufficiency is not something to be taken likely. Yes, we had people with us that knew what they were doing in the wilderness, but being out there with no power, no communication, no running water for ten days felt good. It felt healthy and basic.

The fall following this trip, I went through a very difficult experience. I realized I was gay. It was something that my subconscious had already known I suppose but it nonetheless floored me for months. Just as I was picking myself up and dusting myself off, it was time to register for camp again. As I was now going into 11th grade, I could become a Counselor In Training, which I had wanted to be for years. Even when I was very little, I had always dreamed of being a counselor one day and spending my whole summer at camp. It was a program for which I had to be interviewed and one that would last a month. I remember my phone interview with the CIT Director. It was scary. I have never been one for interviews and her questions such as “Describe yourself in five words” and “What would you do if….” put me on the spot. At the end of that interview, I found out that the only other CIT was in fact Rachel Hallock.

Spending three weeks with Rachel, who I now know as Alaska, was an experience. She is one of the strangest, most hyper people I know, but is still one of my favorites. She helped me to learn what I think is a very important skill: how to live and work with someone whose personality is very different from your own. Furthermore, Alaska is probably the most gay-friendly girl I know, which made my stay so much more comfortable. That entire summer helped me feel much more comfortable in my own skin. Whenever I leave home, I always bring a favorite book with me, and this summer was the first that I brought Annie on my Mind, a book about two lesbian teenagers, to camp, and it felt ok. It felt like I could sit in my tent and read the book and no one would think of me differently.

In fact, my CIT summer helped me to feel confident and proud all around. My CIT Director, Jo, is a woman for whom I hold a tremendous amount of respect. She has an uncanny ability to communicate, which I feel is fitting given she is a sign language interpreter. Jo will make you feel confident in your abilities while at the same time driven to improve them, but will force you to learn for yourself. We periodically would have ‘goal planning’ sessions in which we would, one-on-one, set goals for the following weeks. I remember her sitting there, waiting silently, while I racked my brain for goals. She would not help with something that she knew I had to figure out on my own.

Later, Jo brought out a basket with a bunch of objects in it to cook our meal with. The problem was, Alaska and I were to cook the meal, but Jo would not tell us what or how to cook. The rules were that she would answer only three yes-or-no questions, and that we must use every single object we were given. Jo broke her vow of silence only to laugh at us as I stirred whatever was in the pan with the hanger, which I assumed was the hanger’s purpose (It wasn’t).

I could go on and on with stories from my CIT program, many that would convince you that it has changed me for the better, and many that would just make you laugh. However, I have a feeling you would lose interest after the tenth page or so, so I will end with this. Each CIT either completes a solo or a duo in which she, alone or with a fellow camper, spends a night in the woods. I chose a solo. After a late start due to thunderstorms, I ended up at the campsite around 6:00, and quickly proceeded to start a fire with wet wood, make dinner, set up my tent, and find a tree to hang food and garbage from all at the same time. I remember literally running from place to place in order to get everything done before nighttime. I didn’t have time to be spooked by the woods around me. Before I knew it, I was in my tent falling asleep, very proud of the fact that I had just accomplished so much completely on my own.

The morning was wonderful. I woke up to the sun coming up over the mountains at about 6am and stood beside my tent in my pajamas for an hour or so, thinking and watching the fog roll across the lake. I felt so peaceful standing there at six am, which is strange in light of the fact that I usually have to pry myself out of bed at that hour. Nowhere else do I ever feel so peaceful or sane than in nature. It often seems strange to me that people will pay for expensive programs and products to ‘cleanse’ themselves when it only takes me a day or so in the forest to feel clean, as strange as that may sound. I may be on the computer as much as the next teenager when I am at home, but outdoors I am fully there, and I credit this to my years at Girl Scout camp. Without these experiences, I would not be half the person I am today.