I remember the day I found out you weren’t required to go to camp over the summer, the same way you had to go to school during the year. I was still in elementary school and my friend told me she went to see her family in Europe each year, while I stayed in a bunk.

When I asked her how she got away with missing so much camp — like the straight laced tot I was — she stared at me blankly. 

“What do you mean you don’t go to summer camp?,” I said.

I was very confused; if camp wasn’t required, what were you supposed to do when school wasn’t in session?  

Nothing?

I didn’t really understand what purpose summer camp served in my life. If school was to learn, and camp was basically school, but in the summer, and without learning, what was it for? 

It’s really hard for me to take off my semi-adult hat right now and exclaim, “childcare!!!!!” but for argument’s sake, let’s stick with the vintage-Sylvie perspective. The same point of view that said: “If camp wasn’t required and I didn’t enjoy going, why did I have to go?”

Okay, flash forward to today.

It’s my first summer not at sleepaway camp (besides 2020) since I was 9 years old, and both my mind and body are freaking out. 

What do you mean I have to make my own plans for the entire summer? What do you mean I have to use my own alarm and not a bugle? What do you mean I don’t have a lanyard tan line? 

It’s so weird how the traditions I knew so well have disappeared. I can’t help but think about that little-kid-version of myself who wanted nothing more than the freedom to spend summer doing what she actually wanted to do. Which, honestly, was probably just math worksheets. 

Now, in theory, I can do what I want to do whenever I want to do it. 

The problem is, I legitimately have no idea what that is. I don’t really like math like that anymore, I don’t think. 

I’m still at the point in my life where my summers are free: no career, no real adult responsibilities yet. 

I guess I could take Summer Quarter classes, but that’s what I do over the school year; it feels kind of like a cop out. At some point, I’m going to have to figure out what to do with my time when I am off from work. 

Sure, my days of having free summers are almost behind me, but I can only assume that as I continue to grow up, I will continue to have moments where I have the agency to decide how to best spend my free time.

If I had gone back to camp, I don’t know that I would have had this opportunity. My character is developing so much right now — I can feel it.

I didn’t get it at first but now, I value the purpose camp served in my life — the freedom to relinquish control. By the end of my camp experience, I came to appreciate having a summer routine, even if I couldn’t figure out why it existed. 

I always knew there would come a time when I couldn’t spend my summers at camp anymore. I guess it’s time to finally figure out what these few months are for. 

So far, I have come to the conclusion that summer 2025 is for slinging bagels and iced coffees. More on that soon, probably. 

Sylvie Slotkin is a rising Medill junior. She can be contacted at [email protected]. If you would like to respond publicly to this op-ed, send a Letter to the Editor to [email protected]. The views expressed in this piece do not necessarily reflect the views of all staff members of The Daily Northwestern.