Reflections, Perceptions

As I meet the end of the third week of camp, it feels surreal to know that I have been in America for over a month.

On one hand, it feels like that time has sped by. On the other, if feels like I can account for ever day of those four weeks. New York feels like an eternity ago, Staff Week seems like a distant memory and it feels like I have known ever person I have met so far, for forever. I feel comforted by the thought that there is still so much to come – another month – and that it too might meet me slowly and steadily like the one that has just passed. But beyond that awaits a sting, one I can’t bring myself to consider just yet.


Time here is strange, like camp exists and operates in its own world. You feel both conscious and unconscious of it slowly passing you by. With that, comes a motivation to seize every opportunity to live and love and perform, just as the campers do.

I continue to be blown away by the talent of the kids that attend Appel Farm – their creativity and ambition – and I am envious of the innocence and naivety they have towards the world and the role they will have in it as creative practitioners. But I have also been saddened by some of their lives - children who have been thrust into adulthood against their will, who have seen things and survived things which will haunt them forever. Behind their faces are broken homes and burnt innocence. And in their eyes, the sweet relief of knowing Appel Farm can be their refuge.

I came to America expecting the stereotype, awaiting the summer camp experience I have seen on TV. And I’ve had it, I continue to have it, but nothing prepared me for the realism. Camp is more than smores and bunk beds and poison ivy. It’s a time for kids to be kids, to escape the outside world (as good or bad as it may be for them) and revel in four weeks of unadulterated kid time. Where they get the attention they deserve and the fun they seek and the encouragement they crave.

Ciao for now. xo