From the Assistant Principal

The Great Sausage War of 2000

That's what nobody calls it.

Year 7 camp in Victoria's High Country. Bush cooking was the activity, and the intended goal was for us thirteen-year-olds to start a fire and cook sausages and eggs for lunch.

We ended up pretty far from that intended goal, instead hiding in the Glenrowan bush like the most ineffective members of the Kelly Gang, flinging eggs and raw sausages at each other after trying (and failing) to start our fire.

We went hungry. But what a time! Raw sausage in our hair, egg shells stuck to our clothes. 

Young Mat was always a little reckless when he attended school camp as a student and I’ve been reflecting on why this was, when in the classroom I was a (mostly) model student. 

There is something truly special about camp. To pack a bag, get on a bus, and wave goodbye to your parents for two nights with your classmates and teachers is an absolute rite of passage at Newport Lakes Primary School.

While it is true that camps have become more expensive over the years, and some schools have opted out of them completely due to rising costs and falling student numbers, my self-appointed job is to make camps so exciting that they are spoken about by every Year 6 at their graduation. To make sure every student comes home with stories to tell and memories they look back on fondly twenty years later (not necessarily immediately after camp. There will be some grumpy kids on Wednesday evening).

I was sitting by the pool yesterday as the 5/6 students had some free time, and couldn't help but smile as the Year 6 boys lined up on the edge and, in an orchestrated, Mexican-wave-style move, jumped in one by one. It created a very cool illusion, but also caused a massive wave that swept out of the pool and flooded my shoes.

The boys laughed, and it made me wonder about my own teachers when I attended camp. Were my teachers smiling along as I made memories with my friends by behaving a little too close to the edge of expected behaviour?

Probably.

Because this is what I love most about camps. Taking risks and connecting with friends.

As teachers, we see your children in a very different way, compared to the classroom. And the kids probably see us teachers in a different light too. While our values and expectations remain the same, it's as if the stakes aren't quite as high - or at least, it's easier for kids to be their true selves.

And this is when we see them take risks. Risks in connecting with new peers. Risks in throwing on a harness and strapping into the giant swing. Risks in what they eat (Rice Bubbles and jam on toast? Sure). Or risks in sneaking past the teacher's torchlight during our famous night game, 'Star Wars' (no relation to the Disney franchise).

But perhaps the greatest thing about camp is that it gives children permission to be a little different. To try something they might not ordinarily try. To spend time with someone they might not ordinarily spend time with. To discover that they are capable of more than they thought, whether that's standing up on a surfboard, riding a horse, or sleeping away from home.

And somewhere amongst the giant swings, the midnight giggles, the questionable food combinations and the occasional flooded pair of shoes, friendships are strengthened and memories are made.

I don't remember much about what I learnt in the Year 7 bush cooking activity. I certainly don't remember how to start a fire. But I remember the sausages. I remember the eggs. I remember my mates and the ridiculous things we got up to.

Perhaps that's why I was a little more reckless at camp than I was in the classroom. Camp gives children a different kind of freedom. A chance to test boundaries, take a few risks, make mistakes, laugh at themselves, and discover a little more about who they are.

And that's what I hope our campers take away with them. Not necessarily a new skill or a piece of knowledge, but a few stories, some stronger friendships, and memories that will make them smile twenty years from now. 

Although, preferably, without the raw sausages in their hair.

Mat Williamson

Assistant Principal (and advocate for a little harmless camp chaos)