As the school year is quickly coming to an end, I am getting my three children ready for camp. I never went to camp as a youngster but they’ve each been going since they were each 8 years old. You can hear about my personal experience with ENST (empty-nest syndrome training) and more fun with Summer Camp Math, but what do I really know about their camp experience?
I don’t actually know a thing about my kids’ camp experiences beyond what I’ve gleaned from their Tuck Shop accounts.
The term ‘tuck shop’ originated in Britain, used in many Commonwealth countries, generally means a store that sells candy and sweets. It has taken a broader meaning at camps in Canada selling emergency sundry items, but still the primary vendor of candy at camp. As a result, the camp tuck shop is the mirage in the desert, the oasis of the seas; kind of like my Friday happy hour, I imagine. With my fee remittance, I am asked to include a sum to credit to their individual tuck accounts.
The camp my two boys attend annually charges me $70 each for their camp tuck shop account. They are charged $1 for each piece of ‘tuck’ (candy) and are only allowed 3 pieces a week. It also carries emergency toiletry items like soap, toothpaste and deodorant, though I have no idea what these toiletry items cost since neither have ever touched the ones I pack and therefore has never has no need to ever purchase them. They also sell postage stamps.
DID YOU HEAR THAT, BOYS? YOUR TUCK SHOP SELLS POSTAGE STAMPS!!!
Anyway, absent the cost of personal hygiene and letters home, the accounting is pretty easy: At the end of 4 weeks I am refunded $58 ($70- ($3X4)) each. I understand that “tuck” candy has become a heavily traded currency given its scarcity. I casually hear statements like, “I’ll give you two pieces of ‘tuck’ if your Mom’s brownies” and “trade you my three ‘tucks’ for your new bottle of Deep Woods Off” are covertly whispered during Visitor’s Day. I can only imagine the tuck debt that is accumulated over flashlight poker games. I pray my boys’ have the discipline to trade their ‘tuck’ responsibly and in moderation only.
Compare this to my daughter’s camp that charges me $375 for her tuck account. Clearly her camp tuck shop is a mini-Neiman Marcus with pine shelves. I was pretty curious what would necessitate a 500% difference in tuck shop credit, as I am sure anyone would. Obviously, the purchases of camper note pads, waterproof notebooks, pens, stuffed animals, carves, toques, towels, song books, lip balm, necklaces, hoodies, charm bracelets, charms, sunglasses and flashlights really adds up. Yes indeed, it really adds up. On the other hand, she avails herself of the laundry service and I am able to bail out some of her clothes from death by incineration, unlike the clothes of her brothers.
The good news is that the camp fun does not end when the ‘tuck’ account is depleted, otherwise they would not return year after year. I guess the most important lesson I’ve learned about my kids’ camp experience can be summarized as follows: What happens at camp, stays at camp, and parents are gone but not forgotten – because they pay the Tuck Shop bills.