The Worst Things About Volunteering at Summer Camp | Podcast

Look, I love summer camp. You know I love summer camp. This entire website, podcast, and book series exists because I love summer camp. But in the spirit of honesty — and because I think it actually does prospective volunteers a disservice to make it sound like three months of non-stop magic — let’s talk about the bits that were, shall we say, less than ideal.

This is episode one, because there are definitely more where these came from.

This sounds obvious in retrospect. You are going to a place specifically designed to keep large numbers of children active and entertained from morning until night. Quiet was never really on the agenda. But I don’t think anything truly prepares you for the relentless noise of a summer camp.

It starts at breakfast and it does not stop. Kids shouting, laughing, crying, singing songs you’ll have stuck in your head for the rest of your life. If you’re the kind of person who needs peace and quiet to recharge — which I somewhat am — this hits differently by week three. You start treasuring any five minutes of genuine silence like it’s a rare natural resource.

You are living with people. All the time. In the same cabin, the same dining hall, the same activities. There is no getting home at the end of the day and decompressing on your own. The same people you work with are the same people you eat with, sleep near, and spend your days off with.

For most people this becomes one of the best things about camp — you form friendships at warp speed because of this constant proximity. But there are absolutely moments where you would give a significant amount of money for one hour entirely by yourself. It doesn’t happen. You just get used to it.

The schedule at camp is long. You’re up early, you’re responsible for kids all day, you have duties in the evenings, and then by the time you’ve actually got a moment to yourself it’s already late and you need to be up again in a few hours. Sleep deprivation becomes your default state by about week two.

It’s a particular kind of tired too — not just physically tired from the outdoor activities and the heat, but socially and mentally tired from being constantly “on.” You’re someone’s responsible adult all day. You can’t really switch that off until the kids are asleep, and even then, not entirely.

First summer pay at Camp America is low. There’s no way to dress it up. Andrew covered this in the Pros of Returning to Camp America episode — first year pay is kept down partly because the camp covers your transatlantic flights, but when you’re in Walmart trying to budget your days off, you feel it.

This isn’t a reason not to go. It’s really not. But walking in with eyes wide open about the financial reality means you don’t arrive expecting a summer salary and leave disappointed. Take some spending money. Budget for your days off and any post-camp travel. It goes further than you think when your accommodation and food are covered.

Six thousand miles, give or take. In a country that, for all its similarities to the UK, does things quite differently in ways that catch you off guard at unexpected moments. There will be a point — usually around week three or four — where you just want a familiar face or a familiar place and you can’t have either.

Camp does an incredibly good job of becoming its own world, and the people around you become your family faster than you’d expect. But homesickness is real. It hits at odd times. And the fact that you’re in such a structured, busy environment doesn’t always give you the space to sit with it properly.

Because all of the above is real, and the experience is still worth every bit of it. Knowing the hard parts exist doesn’t make them go away, but it does mean you’re not blindsided by them. Go in informed. Go in prepared. And then go.

The full story — the good, the bad and the Georgia wildlife — is in the book: https://amzn.to/3LVc9BC.

Book 1: There’s No Place Like Summer Camp Book 2: Camp America: Second Summer Shenanigans