This piece was originally shared by the author Harry Taussig on his Substack, Harry’s Substack.

A gift

Not Back to School Camp is a 9-day summer camp for Unschoolers that I had the privilege of staffing for part of last summer.

Yesterday a child came out to wonder
Caught a dragonfly inside a jar
Fearful when the sky was full of thunder
And tearful at the falling of a star

Three months ago, I had a heart-to-heart with ChatGPT. She kindly noted that my interests might be aligned with working in alternative education.

One month ago, I posted a tweet asking if anyone wanted to talk to me about alternative education.

Two weeks ago my friend DM’ed me about his acquaintance Blake Boles.

Then I internet stalked, and wrote Blake an email. I found out about Not Back to School Camp (NBTSC) through his website.

The same day, I sent an email to NBTSC, 5 days before the camp started.
A few days later, the co-director Brenna texted me, and invited me to stay as a guest for a day.

I was welcomed by meme-infused energetic teenagers ready to play. Their first meme was saying “good morning” to me over and over again in synchrony.

I ran a workshop called “Defense Against the Dark Arts” on social deduction games and emotional awareness. We played my favorite board game, One Night Werewolf.

I emceed the student talent show with another staff member, Desmond, where we made up bits on the fly.

I stayed up late interviewing campers about their experiences as unschoolers.

The next morning, I said my goodbyes at morning meeting. Crying, I told them what stood out most to me: “Your empowerment is fucking beautiful.”

I drove away, crying more, listening to “The Circle Game”.

I had always known something better than the school and family I had grown up in was possible. And now I got the beautiful gift of getting to experience it in person for 24 hours.

As I left, many campers let me know they would physically restrain me from leaving, throw me in the lake, and/or make me come back. I told them that if the co-director texted me in the next two days, I would come back.

Luckily for me, NBTSC needed extra help and they invited me back 2 days later. I got to stay for the last 5 days of the session.

Then the child moved ten times round the seasons
Skated over ten clear frozen streams
Words like, “when you’re older,” must appease him
And promises of someday make his dreams

The day I came back I was tired, but I wanted to run a workshop. I went with my gut and decided to run “doing nothing” in the field.

It was perfect. Me and seven other campers sat in the field and did nothing together.

Some sat, some lied down, some snuggled up next to each other, some knitted, some read, some listened to music.

I kept thinking to myself “this is so fucking awesome”. To be so connected — to belong for no reason other than our existence — still overwhelms me with love.

Today I talked with my friend about feeling a pull toward watching youtube when I’d rather do something else. I realized that the something else I’d rather be doing was exactly what I had done at camp: Doing nothing with other people, and feeling like I belong at the same time.

My favorite part of NBTSC was how much I got to cry. I love crying. Sadness feels like love to me. On the second last day, in one of the morning advisee groups with one of the co-directors, Christian, the campers were sharing about how they were feeling that camp was ending. It was beautiful. One of the campers started crying, and two campers that were snuggled up against each other invited her over to lie on them and hold her. That. That. That. That. That. That.

These kids feeling comfortable crying in front of each other makes me want to cry. Them feeling comfortable holding each other. Feeling comfortable around the opposite gender. Feeling comfortable saying how they actually feel even when it’s difficult. Feeling comfortable saying stupid shit for 40 minutes straight. Feeling comfortable to be their full fucking selves.

Sixteen springs and sixteen summers gone now
Cartwheels turn to car wheels through the town
And they tell him,
Take your time, it won’t be long now
Till you drag your feet to slow the circles down

One thing I noticed was that I could not consistently tell the 14 year-olds and the 20-year-olds apart. There was a self-confidence, there was a physical comfort, there was an empowerment, there was an intelligence, there was an awareness, there was a respect, there was a self-directedness that confused me. I had always seen age and maturity correlate quite well.

One time I met a new friend, he was oddly mature. I assumed he was around 27. When he told me he was 24, I immediately guessed that he had dropped out of college. I was right.

So the years spin by and now the boy is twenty
Though his dreams have lost some grandeur coming true
There’ll be new dreams, maybe better dreams and plenty
Before the last revolving year is through

One of my favorite catchphrases is “mammals in abundance”. It reminds me that the things we need for deep well-being are simple. Food, shelter, good relationships. That’s it. The hard part being good relationships.

But still, good relationships are made up of simple things. Emotional vulnerability, not trying to change each other, empathy, curiosity, gratitude, wonder, physical touch.

We have all the tools in knowledge to have communities where people are both physically safe, and feel emotionally safe and free to be themselves. The things that lead to a beautiful chimp life, and a beautiful human life, are not so different.

It was wonderful to be a mammal and human in abundance at camp.

How can I live as a mammal in abundance more often?

How can I live in communities that have both physical and emotional abundance?

How can I live in communities that allow people to fully be themselves, and where people feel safe to have all of their emotions?

I often struggle for life. But 3 months after realizing my dream with ChatGPT, I got to live it for 5 full days. Without struggle.

What makes me think I need to struggle to get what I want?

And the seasons they go round and round
And the painted ponies go up and down
We’re captive on the carousel of time
We can’t return, we can only look behind
From where we came
And go round and round and round
In the circle game

On the final night, campers in their final year gave speeches. One gave a single line: “At camp, I know the people are right for me because they feel like home. At home, I know that people are right for me when they feel like camp.”

Harry, why did camp make you cry so much?

’Cause I want to hold onto it
But there’s nothing to hold
And the universe is laughing
’Cause all a boy can really do is watch a boy unfold
– The Universe is Laughing, by The Guggenheim Grotto