I have been working with kids in camps and classrooms, on soccer fields, baseball fields and basketball courts, in theater productions, and in my own home for over 30 years. In all of these venues, I have witnessed, without a doubt, that kids love to learn. At the bike park, kids love to learn a new trick. On the ski hill, kids love to push their limits and conquer a bigger run or a new feature. On the stage, when the final curtain closes and a child has turned a paper script into an applause-worthy performance, they don't need a trophy to realize their achievement. And in the classroom, when a student is acknowledged for their effort and growth, there is a tendancy to keep striving, even when a classroom is not their favorite place of learning. When kids recognize that they can do something new today that they couldn't do yesterday, they feel proud. They feel confident. They grow a little, not only in their skill set, but in their self image.
I took a group of 11 and 12 year-olds mountain biking at Prince Creek today. Some of them had never ridden on a single track trail and were still distinguishing their front from their rear brakes. They required some coaching, and a heavy dose of assurance. The few in the back hesitantly let their wheels roll, ever so slowly, into the trail. At first, they slowed for every pebble, rock, overhanging plant, and descending hill. They put their foot down a few times, walking past small obstacles. Then, within minutes, they began to steer around rocks, roll over roots, and navigate their path. Midway through, they were rolling over bridges without concern. Their fingers were near the brake levers, but no longer clutching for dear life. And by the end of the mile-long descent, they were riding the high sides of banked turns, smiling, and even giggling.
The transformation between the top of that trailhead and the parking lot below is what we are all about at camp. Learning can be scary. It sometimes illicits trepidation. It always involves trying something new. And it often involves a level of risk. Learning requires the potential to fail.
As we were scooting along at the top of the trail, my riding partner announced, "I don't really like this, but it's like skiing. I wasn't great at it when I started. I didn't even like skiing for a while. But I didn't quit. I kept doing it, and now I'm pretty good at it and it's my favoirte thing to do. I don't love this, but I'm glad I'm doing it." A wise understanding.
Our role at camp is to create an environment where kids feel safe enough to push themselves out of their comfort zone, and a culture that appreciates others who do the same.
In Arbaney Park, we circle up after lunch each day and play Frustrating Games. These games are a hallmark of camp. I love them not just because they create some engaged downtime, a chance to reapply sunscreen, and a playful series of games that have gained a cultlike appreciation, they also create an opportunity for leadership. Older kids who are in on the secrets of the game stand in the center of 40 or so of their peers, embracing the attention, leading the group, showing that they've figured something out that they hadn't known before. They are proud of their achievement and they stand bravely in the middle showing others that learning the tricks is possible! Older kids who are brave enough to lead inspire others to keep playing.
Whether riding a single track trail or leading the group in a Frustrating Game, we are all about creating opportunities for kids to learn, to grow, and to develop confidence among friends and caring adults. This sort of culture does not take place in isolation. We are so fortunate to work and play with your kids in our tiny little community where kids inspire kids, and adults create the space where little moments can spark great outcomes.
The transformation between the top of that trailhead and the parking lot below is what we are all about at camp. Learning can be scary. It sometimes illicits trepidation. It always involves trying something new. And it often involves a level of risk. Learning requires the potential to fail.
As we were scooting along at the top of the trail, my riding partner announced, "I don't really like this, but it's like skiing. I wasn't great at it when I started. I didn't even like skiing for a while. But I didn't quit. I kept doing it, and now I'm pretty good at it and it's my favoirte thing to do. I don't love this, but I'm glad I'm doing it." A wise understanding.
Our role at camp is to create an environment where kids feel safe enough to push themselves out of their comfort zone, and a culture that appreciates others who do the same.
In Arbaney Park, we circle up after lunch each day and play Frustrating Games. These games are a hallmark of camp. I love them not just because they create some engaged downtime, a chance to reapply sunscreen, and a playful series of games that have gained a cultlike appreciation, they also create an opportunity for leadership. Older kids who are in on the secrets of the game stand in the center of 40 or so of their peers, embracing the attention, leading the group, showing that they've figured something out that they hadn't known before. They are proud of their achievement and they stand bravely in the middle showing others that learning the tricks is possible! Older kids who are brave enough to lead inspire others to keep playing.
Whether riding a single track trail or leading the group in a Frustrating Game, we are all about creating opportunities for kids to learn, to grow, and to develop confidence among friends and caring adults. This sort of culture does not take place in isolation. We are so fortunate to work and play with your kids in our tiny little community where kids inspire kids, and adults create the space where little moments can spark great outcomes.
RSS Feed