<p>Forget college resume building. What bollocks. I am insulted every time someone suggests that as my motive. When I send my boys to camp or on trips abroad, I have a long range goal in mind.</p>
<p>When I was growing up, my dad gave us the continual beat down: Get a job! Get a job! Get a job! From the age of 11 onwards, I worked like crazy during the summers–with maybe two weeks at Girl Scout camp and two weeks on the beach with the family. I don’t look back on those $1.10 per hour days with fondness. They were a giant waste of time.</p>
<p>Then I went to college and again, worked like mad. I went overseas for the first time when I was 23. My mother took me to a wedding because my father didn’t want to go.</p>
<p>The next time I went overseas, I moved to Asia for two years. Included in the compensation package: $5000 worth of airfare per year per person–meant to be used for home visits. We never went home. We saw the world–and I loved every minute of it. I dreamt of the day for so long.</p>
<p>At the end of that two year stint, we awarded ourselves a Rome Prize.</p>
<p>Then, my first boy was born when I was 28–and those carefree travel days came to abrupt end. The real period of work started. Time to make some serious money. 23 to 28. Five years–out of 70?</p>
<p>We travelled extensively with the boys–but it isn’t the same. Boys have a limited capacity for art and churches and the marvels of the Renaissance. I did take them down an Amazonian tributary in a canoe and I did let them go crocodile hunting in the dead of night in the jungle–but it was bloody hard on my nerves.</p>
<p>So I have taken a different course. At age 49, my opinion is that there is plenty of time for work. PLENTY!! Decade upon decade. </p>
<p>There isn’t enough time for travel.</p>
<p>Since the age of 9, my boys have been to camp or travelling experiences–not for the resume–for the sheer enjoyment of exploring the world and as a lesson on how to live in a global society. Oh the places they have been! My friends say they would like to die and be reborn as my sons. They learned to canoe in the wilderness for weeks on end. They learned what happens when you run out of money in Zanzibar or lose your bank card in Beijing. They learned languages and customs. They helped to build primary school facilities in African villages. They have done this with supervision and without.</p>
<p>My older son has his first job on Capital Hill this summer–as a rising junior. Guess what? Buckling down to a job isn’t that hard. He’s got it sorted. He’s a clever boy. </p>
<p>His superiors admire his travel experience–as do most of his peers. My husband travelled the world before I met him and it was one of the most attractive things about him–his understanding of the wider picture. My sons enjoy the same admiration from their peers.</p>
<p>One of my son’s bosses spent a few years in Africa. He enjoys sending projects my son’s way because he enjoys chatting about the experience with a compatriot of sorts.</p>
<p>In the end, my sons are likely to get 11 years of travelling (ages 17 to 28) versus my 5. That is worth every penny in my opinion. Like their parents, they will talk about those travels for the rest of their lives and keep up with friends met along the way. Those travels will inform their attempts to live or do business abroad–as our short travels informed our lives.</p>
<p>On the other hand, you can’t beat the value of music camp.</p>