Check out what I got to experience during a week of our summer alumni camps. Woven into the much needed time off of summer I do a month of camps I’ve come to cherish. Our camps are only open to current and former students who come to play, reconnect, and celebrate the unique little community we have built over the years. The older kids come back carrying pieces of this place with them, and perhaps even more beautiful, they begin offering these gifts to the younger children who are just beginning their own journey here.
Our first week of camp featured three older girls ranging in age from nine to thirteen. When I saw them on our list for this week I knew we were in for something special. I’ve known each of them since their preschool days. They are kind, thoughtful, deeply caring and wise beyond their years. They each are still carrying that unmistakable spark that makes them wonderfully themselves: uniquely creative, funny, confident, and just the right amount of sassy.
One of the things I hear over and over from both children and parents is that this is their favorite camp. I’m challenged every year to fit everyone in. A good problem to have for sure. I present the camps being for 4-9 year olds but there are always older kids that want to keep coming back. Part of this is certainly the relationships we’ve built over the years and the sense of safety that comes with our emphasis on the emotional/social, but I don’t think that’s the whole story.
I believe children are hungry for something they are receiving less and less of : freedom. Not freedom without boundaries, but freedom to imagine, collaborate, negotiate, and discover who they are without every moment being organized by someone else’s agenda. Children certainly need regular structure, consistency, and loving guidance. But I sometimes wonder if we’ve become so afraid of boredom, conflict, and uncertainty that we’ve forgotten what children naturally do when trusted with enough space to create something together. And how vitally important this is to their development as confident sensitive beings.
Of course, within this kind of freedom a little mischief and trouble can always be found. I believe this to be an important part of our development as we experiment, question boundaries, and slowly find our way through the process of domestication without losing the essential parts of ourselves. It's easy to argue that the world could use a few more sensitive, big-hearted troublemakers who aren't afraid to question authority.
The camp began with children ranging in age from 3.75 years old (the “.75” was repeated enough times that everyone understood its importance) all the way up to thirteen. There were hugs, laughter, stories from the school year, and the joyful chaos that always comes when old friends find one another again. Before long the three older girls wandered over to our little outdoor theater and made a grand announcement: they were going to create a play and everyone was welcome!
Naturally, everyone followed. The younger kids wide eyed and soaking up every move of our older trio.
Some children wanted starring roles while others were content simply to watch. I found a comfortable place beneath the trees and just watched. A few isolated moments I needed to gently direct but these girls were the teacher’s now.
One child in particular kept catching my attention. He had attended the preschool for three years before moving on to elementary school and had returned to camp carrying the same enormous creative energy I remember so well. He is a lot but I do love his way! Every day he wanted to be the bandit.
Not just any old bandit, but The Bandit!
He had endless ideas for the story, dramatic entrances to propose, scenes to add, and reasons why the bandit deserved just a little more stage time. He loved making people laugh and being at the center of the action.
What fascinated me wasn’t his enthusiasm. It was watching the girls meet it and how all the kids got to witness these interactions. As an educator with an eye towards the vital importance of the emotional/social, school was clearly in session.
They never dismissed The Bandit’s ideas, nor did they allow the play to revolve around him. They listened carefully, welcomed some of his suggestions, gently redirected others, and somehow kept inviting him back into the larger story. They honored both his creativity and the needs of the group without making him feel rejected. Real leadership, girl style!
One afternoon they decided the audience needed to know why the bandit had become a bandit in the first place and suddenly the play had a backstory. The villain became more than a villain. He had a sad story which made us all love the bandit even though he was a little mofo:-) We all learned quickly that even the bandit was worthy of curiosity and compassion. As an educator the discussion that naturally flowed after this addition reminded me of what kind of learning can unfold with this kind of guided freedom. Our girl trio leading these discussions, at times proudly smiling in my direction, confidently feeling their place as the teachers they've become. It’s moments like these that I know I’m doing my job well!
Each day the children returned to the stage for a couple of hours. The camp at this point is being run by our older girls more than me. The plays themselves were hilarious, imaginative, full of ridiculous plot twists, crazy costumes, problems to overcome, and just enough heartfelt wisdom woven into the silliness to leave everyone smiling. But the performances weren’t what stayed with me.
What I found myself watching wasn’t the final production but the process itself. The younger children weren’t simply learning how to put on a play. They were watching collaboration, flexibility, patience, generosity, and creative problem solving unfold naturally before their eyes. They were discovering that leadership isn’t about having the loudest voice or the best ideas. Sometimes it looks like helping everyone else’s gifts find a place to belong. A true learning space full of critical skills for whatever is to come.
For generations our culture has often celebrated a form of leadership rooted in certainty, competition, hierarchy, and control. Watching these girls reminded me of a much better way. One rooted in relationship rather than authority, that listens before directing, makes room instead of taking space, and understands that strength isn’t diminished by sharing power but deepened by it.
Years ago these girls were the little ones looking up to the older children in this same space. Now they have become the culture themselves. Not because anyone taught them a curriculum on leadership or cooperation, but because they have spent years living inside a community where space is given for these ways of relating to be practiced every day. They are simply passing along what was first given to them. There is a cultural momentum here that has been quietly building for years. Sure me and my teachers at times need to guide the group back to the community values that matter but our elders are the ones that are leading the way with this.
All of our camps are full of similar moments. Within what appears to be an unstructured space with lots of freedom you’ll find on a daily basis these kinds of moments filled with the learning that matters most. The structure is there and held fiercely with love and grace. The boundaries of basic community values are something we all contribute to and feel held by. The safety that comes from prioritizing this is what makes all these teaching moments possible. It makes sense to the kids and they learn to participate in the stewardship of our school as a basic practice of being in community.
The structure hasn't disappeared. It has simply become internalized. It lives in the culture itself. When that happens, we don't need to manage every moment because the children begin carrying the community together. When done well, the structure quietly recedes into the background, allowing the freedom to come forward.
So here's to girl power, to the kind of leadership that places relationship before authority, to communities that value belonging over competition, and to trusting what can emerge when we make more room for creative freedom in our children's lives.
Much Love!
The Mad Preschool Teacher (He/Him)