Dear Camp Pembroke,
Before camp begins, you organize, you fold, you sort and you shop. Parents spend weeks checking boxes and double-checking drawers, making sure every sweatshirt is labeled, every pair of socks is packed, every toothbrush, every Shabbat outfit, flashlight, water bottle, and favorite stuffed animal finds its place in a duffel bag.
It is an act of love. There is something so beautiful about the way parents prepare their children for camp. Every item packed quietly says the same thing: I want you to have everything you need.
Then it’s Opening Day. You pull into camp, unload your trunk filled with meticulously packed bags, hug your camper goodbye and the magic begins. Somewhere between unpacking those carefully labeled towels and the moment those same towels become permanently damp, something remarkable begins to happen.
We learn so quickly that the things our campers truly need were never inside the duffel. Confidence doesn’t fit in a packing cube. Resilience can’t be ordered online. Empathy isn’t something you can label with a Sharpie. Kindness isn’t sold in the camp store. These are the things that slowly emerge over days, summers, friendships, challenges, laughter, disappointment, triumph, homesickness, belly laughs, rainy days, Color War cheers, and quiet moments before bed.
At Pembroke, we believe childhood deserves space. Space to make mistakes before someone rushes in to fix them. Space to solve problems before an adult solves them first. Space to navigate friendships, advocate for themselves, discover what they’re capable of, and realize that uncomfortable moments don’t last forever.
As camp directors, one of the greatest gifts we can give our campers is not removing every obstacle from their path. It is walking beside them as they learn they are capable of climbing over those obstacles themselves. We often find ourselves eager to jump in and “fix” but our campers’ strength and skills remind us that they don’t always need that immediate rescue.
It would be easy to become “snowplow” directors—to clear every bump before a camper ever encounters it. But that isn’t what prepares children for life. Growth lives in the climb. Not because we want camp to be hard, but because we know our campers are stronger than they often believe. A very wise camp parent told us this year, “I send my daughter to camp because camp is hard”.
Every summer offers countless opportunities to practice being human: apologizing after hurting a friend, inviting someone to sit next to you at lunch, asking for help, trying again after striking out, swimming one more lap, sleeping through one more night away from home, cheering louder for someone else’s success than your own. These moments rarely make the highlight reel, but they are the moments that shape a life, and perhaps that’s why camp is such a powerful teacher. It reminds us that becoming the person you’re meant to be isn’t a single breakthrough, it’s thousands of small choices made over time.
A camper doesn’t become confident because she spent two weeks at camp. She becomes confident because she spent years collecting evidence that she can do hard things. Summer after summer, challenge after challenge, friend after friend. She slowly begins to trust herself. Each year builds upon the last. A homesick camper becomes the counselor comforting someone else. A quiet voice becomes a song leader and the camper who once needed encouragement becomes the one offering it. Growth circles back in the most beautiful ways.
Our campers are growing here. Growing confidence, growing independence, growing compassion, growing courage. Those are the things you’ll find in August when you unpack your child’s bags. Nestled between those soggy sneakers, empty Gatorade bottle, and mismatched socks, you’ll find a kid who’s experienced 2 or 3.5 or 7 weeks of growth.
The once-white socks are now a shade of camp and the sneakers have seen better days (just toss ‘em). The water bottle has new stickers and half the hair ties are gone forever, but if you look a little closer, you’ll notice something else.
Maybe she speaks a little more confidently. Maybe she solves a problem before asking for help. Maybe she includes someone new. Maybe she believes in herself just a little bit more than she did in June. Those are the things she couldn’t pack. Those are the things she earned, and while the duffel bag eventually gets unpacked and the laundry finally gets folded, those gifts stay with her.
Thank you for trusting us with something so precious. Thank you for packing the socks, labeling the towels, writing the letters, and sending your daughter off with everything you could fit into a trunk.
We’ll take good care of the rest. Together, summer by summer, we are helping raise remarkable young women. There is no packing list for that.
Shabbat shalom!
Love,
Becca & Amy
