As floodwaters rose in Texas, camp counselors hoisted children onto rafters, carried them to dry ground and sang with them to keep them calm. Some died trying to keep their campers safe.
These heroics have cast a spotlight on the people who fill these roles. Often teenagers, some just a year or two removed from being a camper themselves, counselors are a staple of the summer camp experience for the more than 25 million children whom the American Camp Association estimates attend camp annually.
“Thank goodness for the brave counselors,” said Keli Rabon, a Houston mother whose 7- and 9-year-old sons were rescued from Camp La Junta. She said the counselors who saved them were “really just kids themselves.”
More than 160 people still are believed to be missing, and at least 118 have died in the floods that laid waste to the Hill Country region of Texas. The riverbanks and hills of Kerr County are filled with vacation cabins, youth camps and campgrounds, including Camp Mystic, the century-old all-girls Christian summer camp where at least 27 campers and counselors died. Officials said five campers and one counselor from the camp have still not been found.
Texas inspectors signed off on Camp Mystic’s emergency planning just two days before the catastrophic flooding. The specifics of the plan weren’t released, but under state law it had to include instructing campers what to do if they need to evacuate and assigning specific duties to each staff member and counselor.
Henry DeHart, interim president and CEO of the American Camp Association, said counselors typically receive training in areas such as risk management, emergency procedures, child development, abuse prevention, and supervision. Over the years, they’ve stepped in during emergencies, from wildfires to medical crises, while grabbing few headlines, he said.
“What happened in Texas is a profound reminder of the immense responsibility camp counselors carry and how seriously they take that duty,” he said.
As Helen Hardymon watches the news stories about Texas, the 19-year-old wonders what she would have done if the tragedy had struck her camp, Westview on the James. The summer camp sits on a portion of the James River about a 40-minute drive from downtown Richmond, Virginia.
“On paper, yeah, I’m prepared,” she said. “I know the protocol. I know our meeting place. I knew who to call, who to radio. But in the moment, especially with an environmental concern or emergency, like, it is so unpredictable.”
There has been a lot of rain this summer, and she knows what it is like when kids are cold and wet.
Her campers had just gone to bed as she spoke. They had to miss their evening showers in the bathhouse because there was so much thunder. They were calm, but she has seen worried kids cry or simply shut down.
“It reaches a point, an emotional point that they might have never experienced without a parent there,” said Hardymon, now in the hiring process to become a firefighter.
Hardymon’s training started two week before campers arrived. The camp used to make the first week of training optional, a time to certify people as lifeguards or to work the zip line. But starting this year, both weeks become mandatory to cover all the material, which ranges from homesickness to how to safely put a child into a harness for the high-ropes course, said Camp Director Anthony Gomez.
The training can start years earlier. Gomez said many camps — his included — offer programs to turn campers into counselors. Hardymon, herself a former camper, is an example.
In some places, young teens pay a discounted rate to attend a counselor-in-training program. The teens then might work at the camp part-time or volunteer for a few more summers, the tasks assigned to them gradually increasing before they become full-fledged counselors.
“They are back at the camp that they love, they are participating in the program, but now their participation has shifted into paying this forward onto the next generation of folks,” Gomez said.
By the time they are in senior, paid positions, most are in college and deeply rooted in their camp’s culture, said Barry Garst, a former camp director of several years and current professor of youth development at Clemson University.
“They understand your expectations for supporting youth, understand the camp’s mission and philosophy,” Garst said. “It’s a lot harder to teach those things as opposed to having individuals come into the program that already understand it.”
Jim Sibthorp, a professor at the University of Utah who researches summer camps, said one of the things that makes these camp counselors so powerful is that they are seen as closer to peers than parent figures. The relationships are further strengthened by bunking together at night.
“Even in normal camps, they’re leaders because there are decisions to be made,” Sibthorp said. “And, you know, these children are looking up to them to make those decisions.”