"Camp is wasted on kids....The world would be a better place if more adults took the time to play Frisbee or jump off the high dive."

I’ve got this red playground ball cocked behind my head and I’m ready to unleash it on an 11-year-old kid from Maryland. I don’t care that he’s almost 20 years younger than me. I don’t care that what I’m about to do would be considered abuse in any other circumstance. All I care about is slinging the red ball hard at the kid’s legs, sending him to the ground and out of the game. If he cries, so be it. I can’t worry about that. I have to find my next target- some other hapless victim who hasn’t started shaving yet. This is multi-ball, an esteemed summer camp tradition. There is no time for sympathy.

Multi-ball is a paranoid schizophrenic form of dodgeball. It’s a sort of an “every-man-for-himself, can’t-trust-your-best-friend” game. It’s the kind of pastime that psychologists would say builds a kid’s sense of independence, and it’s a staple at Falling Creek Camp for Boys, a summer camp nestled in the North Carolina mountains. I’m spending a few days at Falling Creek as an adult, in part because I never got to go to camp as a kid.

The only summer camp memories I have center around Michael J. Fox trying to woo the camp nurse in “Poison Ivy.” Watching this classic ‘80s movie was as close as I came to Summer Camp as a kid. Note the capitalization. Summer Camp is that important. It’s where shy kids learn to come out of their shell and street-wise kids learn that they’re not alone in the world. At least that’s the way it happened in “Poison Ivy.” I don’t know. Like I said, I never got to go to camp.

Not that I’m bitter. To be honest, I never felt like I was missing anything by not going to camp. I’m a relatively adjusted and responsible adult. I’m not clinically depressed. I’ve never killed anyone. So how much of a difference could three weeks in a cabin with a bunch of other kids really make in one’s life?

“I can’t put a finger on it,” says Tom Wimberly, a friend who spent five summers at a summer camp in North Georgia. “It’s not that I came out of camp taller or more mature. I thought I was just having fun, but there’s a lot of freedom at camp. And there are a lot of choices you have to make. And it’s totally different from every day life back home. At camp, you get to figure out who you really are damn quick.”

This is what the American Camp Association has been claiming for years: “The camp experience is essential to every child’s growth and education,” says the ACA Web site. “It helps children develop the healthy emotional and social skills necessary to grow into strong, considerate, competent adults.”

In other words, I might be socially deficient because I never got to race Timmy Hargrove across the lake for bragging rights. I’m emotionally stunted because I didn’t learn about the ferocity of the Spotted Owl from some white guy in an Indian headdress.

There was only one way to find out for sure. I had to go to Summer Camp…at age 30.

BREAKFAST

Lesson one: Socialism is alive and well at Summer Camp. I learn this quickly at breakfast, which I eat with a table full of middle school kids, most of which are exactly half my size. Mostly, they wear jam shorts and hipster haircuts. The topic of conversation is “Batman Begins.” Nothing unusual there, but each table is a project in communal living. The food is passed around in a circle until everyone gets exactly what he wants. When we’re done eating, everyone pitches in to clean up. One kid collects the forks and knives, one kid collects the cups, another the plates. Two kids with sunglasses on their heads work on cleaning the table with a wet rag. Everyone helps and no one gets left behind. Socialism at its finest.

There are a lot of ideologies practiced at breakfast. First we put our hands on our hearts and say the “Pledge of Allegiance,” which is followed immediately by the recitation of a non-denominational prayer. Socialism, patriotism, and spirituality. That’s a lot to take in before 8am.

Then there’s Morning Watch, a thoughtful period when the kids contemplate some piece of morality like honesty or compassion. Imagine that for a moment: 200 kids between the ages of 7 and 16 sitting quietly and thinking about compassion.

It’s as if I’ve stepped in to an alternate reality. This, however, is all a part of the master plan. Some of the first camps in this country were developed by the YWCA as “vacation projects.” The camps were created for “tired young women wearing our their lives in an almost endless drudgery for wages…” A communal wilderness experience for people fed up with the drudgery of capitalism. Today Summer Camp is a manipulated environment designed to prepare the kids for the real world. It’s a training ground for the next generation.

LET FREEDOM RING

My wife, who went to camp in Tennessee every summer of her youth, says a lot of my problems stem from the fact that I never had that camp experience. “It’s why you’re such a mama’s boy,” she says. “You learn how to take care of yourself at camp. You learn to exist away from your parents. You never had to do that as a kid.”

When I first told her I never went to camp as a kid, she reacted the same way everyone reacts: shock and pity. It’s like telling someone your parents kept you in a cage, forcing you to watch episodes of “Archie Bunker” for your formative years.

It’s very possible that I’m emotionally stunted, but how much of that could possibly stem from not going to camp? Besides, I can’t imagine being eight-years-old and living essentially on my own for a month like the kids at Falling Creek.

“It was really hard for me my first year,” says Alan, who I’m guessing is about 10 and is enjoying his second year at Falling Creek. “I cried that whole first week. It sucked. But then I figured it out,” he says smiling. “My mom’s not around. I can do whatever I want.”

There are a number of rules the kids have to follow while in camp, but for the most part, they’re on their own. The day is divided into six periods. During each period, every kid signs up for an activity. They can play soccer, or they can shoot rifles. They can go horseback riding or they can go swimming. They can go to Indian Lore or they can take a nature walk. The key, and what Falling Creek hinges its success on, is that the kids decide what they want to do all day.

“Boys at Falling Creek learn to make decisions for themselves,” says Chuck McGrady, the director of Falling Creek. “It teaches self confidence and how to live with a group of people.”

The kids decide whether they’re going to take a shower, wash their clothes, eat their peas, write a letter to their parents, play poker, take a nap, throw a rock at the snake, dive head first into the lake, let go of the zip line, tip the canoe, pee in the woods, skip archery, stand against the wall at the dance. I’m self aware enough to admit that if I went to Falling Creek as a kid, I would have made a series of bad decisions until I wound up stuck in the middle of the lake in a canoe with no paddle, a snakebite on my wrist, dirty underwear around my head, and the first stages of malnutrition attacking my body.

GRAND THEFT AUTO

I like the look of things as I approach the gun range. Nothing says “camp” like a group of adolescent children standing in a line shooting .22 rifles into the woods. They’re all donning those oversized, yellow glasses that Hunter S. Thompson was fond of in the ‘70s. They’ve got on earmuffs and seem to take shooting very seriously.

One kid I sit next to says he’ll probably stay at the range all day: eight hours straight of shooting black and white targets.

It gets a little surreal when some of the kids start discussing the realism of “Grand Theft Auto,” a video game where you get points for murdering people. It’s just not the conversation you want to hear from kids who are learning the efficient art of weaponry.

According to some of the counselors at Falling Creek, this kind of conversation is exactly what their camp is trying to address. Not that any of these kids are going to climb a clock tower with their .22 any time soon. They all seem well adjusted and I even hear a couple of them talk about the affects of cartoon violence on kids in America. It’s not violence that Falling Creek is trying to wean out of our children, it’s video games, and card games, and TV.

“You’d be surprised how many kids I catch playing card games when they’re supposed to be swimming or shooting arrows,” says Robert, one of the head counselors at Falling Creek. “That’s how they spend their time at home. Here, we want to introduce them to something more worthwhile.”

Guy is a skinny 14-year-old kid who probably doesn’t know Falling Creek saved his life. He used to be one of those obese kids you hear about on the news. Not even shaving yet and they’ve got Diabetes and high cholesterol.

“Since I started coming here I’ve lost 70 pounds,” Guy says. “I just didn’t know I liked being outside before I came to camp.”

It’s the kind of revelation the counselors at Falling Creek live for. “I’m a teacher during the year,” Robert says, “but I know I can make a bigger difference in these kids lives during these four weeks at camp than I can during nine months at school.”

CAPTAIN ADVENTURE

“They say a serial killer murdered someone out there. Now if you pee on the fire, his ghost will come into the camp.” I’m hearing this from a short, greasy headed boy who just came back from an overnight trip to the edge of Falling Creek’s campus. Campfires, ghost stories, sleeping in tents-that sort of thing. “I really wanted to see his ghost,” he says, “so I peed on the fire.”

The overnight trips are what make Falling Creek so unique: biking at Dupont Forest and Pisgah, rock climbing at Looking Glass, multi-day backpacking treks through the Smokies, paddling trips to the Pigeon, Green, and Tuck, nature hikes in surrounding woods.

“The level of adventures these kids can take part in is astonishing,” says Drew, one of the trip leaders. “Adults pay a fortune for this sort of guidance and adventure.”

In one four week session at Falling Creek, a boy could conceivably learn to roll a kayak, paddle class III water, send Looking Glass, bag three sixers, catch a native trout, and style Dupont’s slickrock. It’s the kind of program most adults dream about.

There isn’t enough time for me to take advantage of the guided trips, though. I spend most of my morning on the soccer field getting schooled by a group of Spanish kids who speak very little English. It’s humiliating and liberating at the same time. I can’t remember the last time I spent an hour and a half just playing soccer. Not that I haven’t had the urge to do so, it’s just difficult to find people to play with once you hit 30.

FREE TIME

“What you have to do is center your weight in your hips, so you’re focusing your entire body mass into one point of contact, maximizing the impact. Kinetic energy.” Tommy, a 9-year-old from Oklahoma is explaining the delicate art of The Blob. These aren’t his exact words, but I’m positive this is what he’s trying to say.

The Blob is a gargantuan raft/trampoline within jumping distance of Falling Creek’s high dive. One kid jumps on the Blob and the rest of the kids try to send him into orbit. You can do anything you want for one hour before lunch, but most boys are drawn to either The Blob or Foosball.

The reigning Foosball King of Falling Creek is Donnie Bain, one of the directors of FC and arguably the oldest kid in the camp. He’s got a respectable gray beard and would look like a professor if it weren’t for the two Foosball handles grasped firmly in his hands. Kids line up to test their skills against Bain, and one by one they get sent packing.

This only confirms my suspicion that camp counselors are the smartest people in the world. During Free Time, some counselors jump from the high dive while others play volleyball. One counselor gets worked up over a game of ping-pong while another plays saxophone on a porch. A couple of others engage in a friendly pickup game of Ultimate Frisbee. This is at 11am on a Thursday. Now ask yourself, what are you usually doing at 11am on a Thursday?

BATHROOM BREAK

“Gray foxes are rarely seen during daylight hours. If you see one during the day, approach it with caution since this abnormal behavior is usually associated with rabies.”

This is what I learn from the poster behind the urinal in the mess hall bathroom. Every opportunity is used to develop the kids’ minds, bodies, and spirits. That’s what makes camp so effective. Total immersion. It’s like going to a communist re-education camp.

A three-year study by the American Camp Association claims that 92 percent of the campers studied said camp helped them feel better about themselves; 98 percent said it helped them make new friends; 76 percent of camper parents said their child gained more self-confidence.

There’s nothing new or surprising in the study, says Marla Coleman, president of the American Camps Association. “We have always known that camp gives kids a world of good. Now, we can finally corroborate all our anecdotal evidence and state unequivocally that the camp experience clearly is a vital component of the educational process.”

ARCHERY

The educational process doesn’t necessarily extend to archery. At least not while I’m at camp. There are about a dozen kids at the archery range, only three of which are actually shooting arrows. The rest are talking about CSPAN’s coverage of the British Parliament.

I learn how to shoot a bow, which isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, then join the conversation, which has evolved into a story session. Most of the kids are in their teens and they’re reminiscing about camp days past.

“Remember Michael? How he wore his pajamas all day long? Even to dinner?”

“Remember when we pulled Milkdud out of his bunk and duct taped him to the tree in his underwear?”

I have nothing against Milkdud, but I sincerely wish I could have been there to experience that. I’ve never duct taped anyone to a tree before, but it sounds like the sort of thing you’re supposed to do at Summer Camp.

CANNONBALL

Me, Robert the counselor, and two chubby kids get into a serious cannonball contest off the low dive in the lake. The cannonball is a serious thing. At first glance, it looks simple, even a little ridiculous. But there are so many ways to manipulate the splash. A kick of the leg, a roll of the shoulder; the littlest thing makes a difference.

Robert is truly gifted in the art of the cannonball. The rest of us are just trying to keep up. He does this corkscrew thing, kicking his leg out wide to create a massive triangular splash. When it’s my turn, I throw myself into it, making myself as large and heavy as possible and sinking immediately on impact.

It’s 5pm. In the real world I’d just be leaving work. Maybe I’d be going to happy hour or home to watch “The Simpsons.” Probably I’d be going to the gym to get some cardio in. I love my life, but as I sink to the bottom of the lake, I can’t help but think this is exactly how God intended I spend my afternoons.

This is why camp is wasted on kids. Not that they don’t appreciate it. They do. And it’s not that they don’t need it, either. But adults need it more. I’m not talking about the moral conditioning that takes place at Summer Camp. Sure, the world would be a better place if we all took 15 minutes in the morning to think hard about compassion, but there’s something more important adults can get from Summer Camp: play time. When was the last time you jumped in on a pick up game of Ultimate Frisbee? Or played four-on-four volleyball? Or challenged the reigning King of Foosball? After spending some time at camp I know these are the sort of activities adults need in their lives. Kids may learn about social responsibility and independence at camp, and this conditioning may have a trickle down affect on the world in years to come, but the world would be a better place today if more adults took the time to dive for a Frisbee in the end zone, or attempt a Triple Lundy from the high dive. Forget missing Summer Camp in my childhood, it’s what’s missing from my adulthood. Like Hamlet said, “The play’s the thing,” and adults need more of it.

Because dodgeball can save your soul too. Standing over that 11-year-old kid from Maryland with my red playground ball poised and ready to strike, I can actually feel myself becoming a better person.

ADULT CAMPS

You’d probably get arrested if you showed up at a kids’ summer camp in your bathing suit looking to participate in the festivities. Have no fear: there are a few places in the Southeast where you can re-create that summer camp experience.

ACE Adventure Center, Oak Hill, W.Va.

ACE is famous for guiding trips down the New and Gauley, but they also have a world-class campus that would make most campers drool. You can get a 2-10 day package which includes guided rafting trips, food, and access to their lake, aqua trampoline, slides, canoes, kayaks, volleyball courts, tetherball, and miles of hiking and mountain biking trails. www.aceraft.com.

Outward Bound, Asheville, N.C.

Outward Bound is an outdoor education organization that’s famous for turning teens into confident leaders, but they also have a variety of programs for adults. Check out the parent/kid trips like the Rock Climbing and Backpacking Challenge or get your boss to enroll your office in the Professional’s Wilderness Program, which includes backpacking, rock climbing, canoeing, and ropes courses. Outward Bound focuses on education and leadership, but there’s plenty of fun to be had. www.ncobs.org.

Toccoa Wilderness Ministries, Blue Ridge, Ga.

It’s like summer camp with a Christian agenda. Their Adventure Recreation Retreat combines adventure activities with bible study. You’ll tube, backpack, raft, rapell, cave, and if you’re lucky, get saved. www.twmin.org.

Camp Carolina Family Camp, Brevard, N.C.

Most children’s camps open their facilities to families during the off season. At Camp Carolina’s fall Family Camp, you’ll spend a weekend doing everything your kid got to do in the summer. Tennis, hiking, canoeing, archery, Frisbee golf-you name it, you can do it. Plus a nightly cocktail hour for adults only. www.campcarolina.com.