Jess used CIEE as a sponsor for her American camp experience, and it turned into something she still talks about. Her advice for anyone on the fence is simple: ‘just say yes’ to the experience if you’re thinking about it. Before you make your own mind up, here’s her account of a summer spent in upstate New York.

How the decision happened

Camp was never on my list. I’d already done the travelling, and I’d not long got back from an internship in Connecticut. My next step wasn’t clear, but one thing was: I wanted more time in America.

At the time I was staying with a friend who’d wrapped up a camp placement the summer before. He kept talking about the kids, the daily routines, the people he’d lived and worked alongside. I went to bed with all of it turning over in my head, and did the thing everyone does. I stayed up reading other people’s stories, scrolling through photos, taking in the kind of detail that no brochure ever captures. Hours later, I felt oddly reassured. I just didn’t know where to begin.

The same friend pointed me towards CIEE, which I knew very little about back then. Once I got in touch, their team took the complicated parts off my plate. Matching, paperwork, the visa process; all the bits that could have made saying yes feel like hard work.

Getting there

Having already spent six months on the east coast, I picked a camp in upstate New York. Going back to a part of the world I already understood, but seeing it from a completely different angle, appealed to me.

The journey out felt nothing like my internship. There was no stepping into the unknown this time. It felt more like I’d signed up for something that might stretch me in ways I couldn’t quite name yet, and I couldn’t wait. The camp had a long history behind it, with families who’d been coming back for generations. Counsellors were turning up from all over the world, and the returning staff clearly knew each other well. It was a tight community, and everyone wanted to be there.

Settling into camp life

Camp runs to its own rhythm, and you pick it up faster than you’d expect. You live, eat and work with the same people all day, every day. There’s nowhere to disappear to behind a phone either, because ours had a strict no-phone policy. I’d assumed that would feel awkward and a bit unnatural, but it did the opposite. You rediscover all the small things you’d half-forgotten you liked. Books, unhurried conversations, card games, aimless doodling, sitting outside because the evening air carries the smell of the pine trees standing over your cabin. Even the cabins, plain wooden buildings, turned into somewhere warm that felt like home.

Every day followed the same packed shape.

You’d wake the kids, get everyone sorted, then head to a family-style breakfast. After that came activities, cabin time, lunch, more activities, an afternoon snack, swim time, dinner and finally an evening event. The specifics changed, but the flow held steady. And inside that routine you form relationships that run far deeper than seems possible in such a short stretch of time.

Our camp put real weight on shared experiences, and not only for the campers. We took the kids on trips, including one afternoon at a water park I won’t forget, and on nights off the counsellors would sometimes plan an escape together. That might be an Air BnB three or four hours out, somewhere that gave us a bit of freedom and time to unwind as a group. Dinner somewhere new followed by an overnight nearby was just as likely. It sounds like nothing, but those short breaks mattered. They gave you a chance to reset and reconnect, and reminded you that you were living somewhere worth going out to explore.

The reality of the job

Camp isn’t a steady run of feel-good moments, of course. It’s hard work. You’re looking after real children with real feelings, and you have to meet each of them wherever they happen to be. Most of my time went to the seven and eight year olds, the youngest campers there, and for a lot of them this was their first stretch away from home. Homesickness turns up out of nowhere. One minute they’re giggling over breakfast, the next they’ve thought of their parents and the whole thing tips over. You become the one who steadies them again, and that takes patience, empathy and, now and then, an energy reserve you didn’t know you were carrying.

One memory has stuck with me, and it happened at that water park. Two of our youngest were set on going down one of the biggest flumes. They climbed all the way up, looked over the edge and froze completely. They didn’t want to give up, but they weren’t sure they could do it either. My co-counsellor and I crouched down next to them, talked them through the nerves and left the choice with them. After some hesitation and a lot of deep breaths, they went. The look on their faces at the bottom is something I’ll always remember. We came down right behind them, screaming about as loudly as they had.

What it leaves you with

When people say camp teaches you things, they usually mean patience or teamwork, and both of those are true. But it teaches you quieter things too, ones you only spot later. You learn resilience because the days are long and switching off isn’t an option. You learn to think on your feet because plans keep changing. You learn empathy because you’re supporting small people who feel their world so intensely. And you learn to rely on others, not out of convenience, but because you genuinely need each other.

Looking back, it didn’t feel like one neatly contained summer. It felt like one of those experiences that quietly shifts how you see things, without ever asking to be noticed. I came home with new friends, a clearer idea of what I’m capable of, a wider view of the world, and an understanding of myself I hadn’t quite expected.

For anyone weighing it up

If you’re hesitating over whether to go, honestly the only advice I’ve got is this: just say yes.

While you’re out there, make the most of your time off. Get out and explore. Take the small trips. See the area around you. Share those moments with the people working alongside you. That’s how you get everything out of it.

I went for one summer. I left with a different sense of who I am, and, cliché as it might sound, with memories I wouldn’t swap for anything.