Latest news with #GirlScout
Newsweek
a day ago
- Business
- Newsweek
Girl Scouts CEO Says Investing in Girls Is Key to a Bright Future
Based on facts, either observed and verified firsthand by the reporter, or reported and verified from knowledgeable sources. Newsweek AI is in beta. Translations may contain inaccuracies—please refer to the original content. Beyond the cookie sales and green vests filled with colorful patches, Girl Scouts is a legacy organization that has been helping girls become stronger leaders for over a century. "Our mission is to build girls of courage, confidence and character, who make the world a better place," Girl Scouts of the USA CEO Bonnie Barczykowski told Newsweek in an email. "We want them to know the future is theirs to lead." Leading Girl Scouts of the USA as the CEO since 2023 is both a "tremendous responsibility and a tremendous opportunity," Barczykowski said. She said her goal is to ensure the organization remains relevant in what it offers girls and to close the gaps that exist so that more girls, volunteers and communities can "fully experience the life-changing benefits of Girl Scouts—especially those we have yet to reach." Barczykowski joined Girl Scouts at the local level in Missouri as a board member and then COO in 2012, ultimately serving as CEO of Girl Scouts of Eastern Missouri for nearly a decade. There, she transformed the program, expanding access to include more girls while leading a $50 million fundraising campaign. Prior to working at Girl Scouts, Barczykowski began her career as an elementary school teacher. She then transitioned into sales and marketing for a major airline before opening and operating five Curves fitness franchises. She told Newsweek that all her experiences and the perspective she's gained from them deeply inform her leadership today. "I bring both local and national insight to the table, and I lead with clarity, conviction, and an unwavering belief in the power of girls," she said. "My career has never followed a straight line, and that's what makes it unique. It's proof that courageous moves and unexpected turns can lead to extraordinary outcomes." Girl Scouts was founded by Juliette Gordon Low in 1912 in Savannah, Georgia, at a time when women and girls had limited opportunities. The organization has since grown to include nearly two million members from 111 local Girl Scout councils and troops in more than 92 countries through USA Girl Scouts Overseas. The Girl Scout Law promotes honesty, fairness, courage, respect, sisterhood and service — values that serve as the foundation of an organization existing in an ever-changing world. "The girls we serve are always moving forward—fast—and it's our responsibility to stay in step with their pace and potential," she said. "So we'll continue to evolve to make the Girl Scout experience relevant, exciting and accessible for every girl, ensuring her individual goals and dreams are reflected." Women's Global Impact: Bonnie Barczykowski Women's Global Impact: Bonnie Barczykowski Newsweek Illustration Leading an organization that has been around for over 100 years can be daunting. But Barczykowski is up to the task. The Girl Scouts of today have different interests, priorities and challenges than scouts of the past. "My biggest, and most exciting, challenge as the CEO of an organization with such a powerful legacy—113 years of building girls of courage, confidence, and character, who make the world a better place—is ensuring that that legacy endures and that Girl Scouts is thriving for 113 more years," she said. When leading an organization that centers on building girls' character and teaching them the importance of "leaving the world better than they found it," Barczykowski said practicality and empathy are equally important to being a solution-minded leader. Along with her "talented and dynamic" leadership team, and 111 council CEOs across the country, Barczykowski is committed to "revolutionizing" engagement with members, amplifying impact and "securing tomorrow as responsible and passionate stewards of Girl Scouting." Noorain Khan said being a Girl Scout changed her life – the organization brought her lifelong friendships, encouragement from adult mentors and opportunities to get involved with leadership and social justice programs. That formative experience kept her involved in the organization through adulthood, serving as a young adult volunteer, a National Board member and now as the National President and Daisy troop leader. Khan said Barczykowski is an incredible leader and partner, describing her as wise, kind, intentional, strategic and clear. "As a former council CEO, she knows what it means to deliver for our girls day in and day out," she said. "She always listens and tries to understand. And she's a visionary who believes that the impossible is possible—and, very importantly, she knows how to bring people along in that vision." Understanding and empathy are key when leading Girl Scouts through fast-paced technological advances and a post-pandemic society. The organization's internal research shows that more than half of girls ages five through 13 said they think the idea of being a grown-up sounds scary. In recent years, Girl Scouts has increased efforts to prepare girls to tackle the world's most pressing issues. After a recent study showed that nearly 70 percent of girls experience loneliness, Girl Scouts launched the Mental Health Initiative in 2021 in response to the growing mental health crisis among girls, in partnership with the National Alliance on Mental Illness (NAMI) and HCA Healthcare. This includes new mental health-related patch programs designed to facilitate important conversations and provide resources and materials to scouts and troop leaders. In the last year, Girl Scouts has also received a $30 million grant from Lilly Endowment Inc. to support character development initiatives and partnered with the League of Women Voters to support the Promote the Vote program and other civic engagement opportunities within Girl Scouts. "My greatest hope is to ignite that same spark in today's girls—to help them discover who they are, what they care about, and how powerful they already are," Khan said. "Because I'm not just helping build the future of Girl Scouts—I'm giving back to the sisterhood that helped build me." Khan said Girl Scouts has always tried to "meet girls where they are" to help best prepare them for the challenges ahead. This includes the addition of the Girl Scout Advisory Board, which features 22 Girl Scouts from across the country who help shape the organization by advising on everything from global leadership to mental wellness, outdoor exploration and the future of the Girl Scout Cookie Program. "Through all this evolution, our purpose has never been clearer: we don't just prepare girls for the future; we prepare them to lead it," she said. As society has progressed to expand the rights, freedoms and opportunities for women, Girl Scouts must keep up to promote diversity and accessibility for all girls. Barczykowski said Girl Scouts from all walks of life bring their own unique perspectives, passions and energies to their journeys within the organization. And it is Girl Scouts' organizational priority, she said, to reach every girl in every community and eliminate any obstacle that prevents any girl from getting involved. As a young hijab-wearing Muslim girl, Khan said she didn't look like most of her troop, but she felt seen, supported and celebrated. It was that sense of belonging that helped her believe in herself and inspired the culture she wants to continue as a leader. "One of my top priorities is making sure every girl feels she truly belongs in Girl Scouts—and knows this is a place where she can grow, lead and thrive," she said. "That means doing more to engage communities of color, girls with disabilities, girls who don't feel like they belong and girls who face financial barriers. They deserve to feel safe, welcomed and fully supported—and to experience the same powerful outcomes as every Girl Scout." Khan said her goals are rooted in purpose – building a thriving organization with flourishing local councils and a powerful, united movement that continuously grows in strength and relevance. She is the first Muslim American and Millennial to hold the position of National Board President. At the 2023 National Council Session, where she was elected National President, the body also voted to codify anti-racism into its constitution to eradicate discrimination within the organization. Girl Scouts is "one of the most unique and enduring forces for good in the world," she said, and said she's deeply committed to ensuring more girls in every corner of the country have access to its "life-changing power." "When girls become Girl Scouts, the impact doesn't stop with them—it ripples outward into families, neighborhoods and communities," she said. "That's why I'm focused on helping build an organization that's not only healthy and future-ready, but one that is as welcoming as it was when I walked into my first troop meeting." Barczykowski wants girls all over the world to know their worth, trust in their potential and make their dreams a reality. For everyone else, her advice is to invest in girls. "They're not just the leaders of tomorrow—they're leading in incredible ways today, and they want to put their skills to use," she said. "Introduce a mentorship program, invite a Girl Scout troop to learn more about your field, create an internship program for Gold Award Girl Scouts, or encourage your staff to volunteer with their local Girl Scout council. It's never too early to start inspiring our future workforce." Bonnie Barczykowski is one of the panelists at Newsweek's Women's Global Impact Forum that will take place at Newsweek's headquarters at One World Trade Center in New York City, on August 5, 2025. The forum aims to connect senior female executives across all industries and job functions with rising stars on the path to C-suite positions to discuss leadership, innovations and how they are inspiring all women to succeed in the business world.
Economic Times
2 days ago
- Entertainment
- Economic Times
Rescue dog Igor goes viral after brutally honest adoption post calls him a ‘sentient middle finger'
Igor, the impish dog, with 'devilish traits' was amusingly advertised as the 'sentient middle finger' through the adoption home's Facebook page. With the vigour of a "tiny Godzilla," a 10-pound social danger made his national television debut on the TODAY show dated July 14. On the Morning Boost segment of the show, which was hosted by Jenna Bush Hager and featured Al Roker, Craig Melvin, and Savannah Guthrie, Igor, a rescue dog from the Renegade Paws Rescue in Savannah, Georgia, made an appearance on Monday, July 14, to demonstrate his status as "America's most rancid villain." The joke was a reaction to Igor's bad boy behaviour, which went viral because of Renegade Paws Rescue's funny and brutally honest social media adoption to the rescue's July 7 Facebook post, he is a "sentient middle finger wrapped in a cloud of fur,' stating, "We have reason to believe he's a cursed Victorian child masquerading as a 10lb stuffed animal.""He appeared; he wasn't born. Nobody can recall when or how. He appears at corners and in entrances," the post goes on. The essay also lists Igor's various dislikes, like going to the dog park or breakfast, and his loves, such "your ex-boyfriend's head on a platter," along with his training attempts."He made the trainer cry," according to his of animal lovers took notice of Renegade Paws Rescue's candid evaluation of Igor's personality, and they shared the message more than 35,000 times. Igor came to TODAY as a result of his achievements online. Igor was able to behave himself during his TV debut, beguiling the studio like "a Girl Scout on her way to Sunday mass," but his true self showed as soon as he hit the streets of New York City, according to a follow-up social media post from Renegade Paws Rescue."Unless bribed with a bacon-egg-and-cheese," the fanciful, irrational message says, "Igor refused to enter the tube." "After he got on the train, he humped the pole and then crop-dusted the car till he brought a youngster to tears. He rallied the rats to support him when the officials escorted him away while he was screaming. After recounting Igor's experiences at the Statue of Liberty, the humorous remembrance makes fun of how Igor's handlers, including the director and three foster coordinators, "barely made it out" of Brooklyn alive and "may never be the same" after chasing the dog throughout the adoptive parents have expressed a great deal of interest in Igor despite his silly antics, thanks to his Facebook posts and appearance on foster mum and the applications team are currently sorting through the hundreds of applications from deranged witches and hot girls 'who can change him'," said the rescue. "Until then, please send holy water and pray that he doesn't maim the TSA agent on his flight back to Savannah." Jennifer Taylor, the director of Renegade Paws Rescue, told PEOPLE that they are happy that the dog's mischievous behaviour may bring joy to people."We have a huge overpopulation crisis [of dogs] in Georgia, and we'll take any chance we can to get to talk with people about adoption, fostering, spay/neuter, and volunteering," Taylor stated."Even though Igor would never acknowledge it, he is still alive due of a kind volunteer who volunteered to take care of him and donations from others. In his diabolical heart, he feels who finds "small, emotionally stunted men intriguing" and is willing to live in Igor's home, not the other way around, is the kind of follower that Igor requires. He's open to dog siblings if they have the same wild streak as him, but if he meets a golden retriever that is too happy, he could need to be exorcized."The boy Igor is not good. The rescue crew said, "Igor is an experience."
Business Insider
3 days ago
- Business Insider
My daughter went on a cell-phone-free weekend trip. It was surprisingly harder on me than on her.
My daughter went on a cell-phone-free wilderness trip for a weekend. It was a great way for her to unplug and get to know other girls. I had an unexpectedly hard time not being able to text or call whenever I felt like it. My daughter recently went on a Girl Scout camping trip. They went rock climbing and hiking and had a weekend full of adventures. Much to my delight (although less to hers!), cellphones were off-limits for the weekend. It was supposed to help the girls get to know each other better. I'm also sure it was easier on the staff not to worry about girls dropping, breaking, or losing their phones while they were out exploring. On a more practical note, the cell service wasn't any good where they were camping anyway. What I didn't expect was how difficult it would be for me to not be able to reach my daughter instantly. I'm so glad my daughter has some screen-free weekends Like most parents I know, I'm concerned about how much time my kids spend on their phones. My daughter is in middle school, and she doesn't remember a world without smartphones. I'm trying to teach her to have a healthy relationship with technology. It's not all bad, but I want her to have plenty of offline time as well. I've always been conscious of trying to limit her screen time and that of her older siblings. I tried to find lots of analog activities for them to do when they were younger. I encouraged them to try after-school activities that would hopefully keep them active and entertained. I wanted them to spend time with people in real life instead of mostly online. But I realize I haven't been as conscious of whether I myself was too attached to my smartphone at the same time. I didn't expect it to bother me that I couldn't reach her That weekend, I was everything from mildly annoyed to downright anxious that I couldn't talk to my daughter during her trip. Please help BI improve our Business, Tech, and Innovation coverage by sharing a bit about your role — it will help us tailor content that matters most to people like you. Continue By providing this information, you agree that Business Insider may use this data to improve your site experience and for targeted advertising. By continuing you agree that you accept the Terms of Service and Privacy Policy . I'd go to text her something funny, and remember she wouldn't see it until she was home. The staff had ways to reach us in an emergency, but I still worried about whether she made it to the campground from our drop-off site safely. I catastrophized. I played out all kinds of ridiculous, but still scary, scenarios in my head at night when I tried to sleep. My reaction caught me completely by surprise. I'm an 80s kid. I'm from the generation that was famously kicked outside to ride bikes with our friends until it got dark. I didn't grow up able to communicate with my parents at every moment. When I got in an accident that totaled my car just after college, I waited until our scheduled weekly phone call to mention it to my parents. Now, I can't imagine my kids not calling me immediately in the same situation. I like that phones mean I know where everyone is, and that they can call for help right away in an emergency. Some of my kids have their driver's licenses, and I feel better knowing they can check in when they arrive somewhere. But when I couldn't contact my daughter right away, like I was accustomed to doing, it really threw me. I didn't like it one bit. I'm trying to make some changes I think a lot of my problem was that I've gotten too used to my phone. Gradually, without realizing it, I've checked it more and more. I'm not a prolific poster, but I scroll a lot to see what everyone else is posting. I've gotten accustomed to grabbing my phone and texting whatever I'm thinking to whoever I want, immediately. And I'm used to getting a response from them immediately, too. My phone isn't all bad. I get pictures of my extended family in our group chats, and text my friend overseas like she still lives here. I read books on it. I have a terrible sense of direction, so I definitely need it for navigating. But when I'm at the point that one weekend of not texting my daughter makes me worried, that's a bad sign. So now, I try to leave my phone in the other room on weekends and spend time offline. I put down my phone and look at people while they're talking to me. It's currently summer, so if we're on a hike or doing something as a family, I try to put my phone away and fully engage with everyone. I also take weekends off from social media. I'm sure it will be a lifelong challenge to balance the good and bad parts of having a smartphone. I hope I can stay aware of when it's gaining too much of a foothold in my life, and readjust once again. Or maybe sometimes I just need a long camping trip somewhere with no cell service.
Yahoo
12-07-2025
- General
- Yahoo
Home of the Brave
The Atlantic Daily, a newsletter that guides you through the biggest stories of the day, helps you discover new ideas, and recommends the best in culture. Sign up for it here. A few specific sounds punctuate summer evenings in rural Iowa. A chorus of spring peepers, for example, or the shrill conk-la-ree of a red-winged blackbird on the side of a county road. But only one demands a response: the hostile, metallic beep of a NOAA weather radio. For 25 years, my mother ran Camp L-Kee-Ta, a small Girl Scout camp in the southeastern part of the state, which meant that, every summer, she was responsible for the safety of 64 girls and a staff of 20 young adults. At the first declaration of a tornado warning, Mom would walkie the counselors, instructing them to move their campers indoors. She'd ring the camp's cast-iron bell as the wind began to howl. And, because my family lived on-site, she'd toss me in the truck before driving from the cabins at Hickory Hills to the huts at Trail's End, checking for stragglers. Within minutes, we'd all convene in the basement of the Troop House, the largest camp building, a few dozen girls sitting cross-legged on the concrete floor with snacks and songbooks. I don't recall much crying in these moments as the storm raged above us. Mainly, I remember singing. Camp felt safe, in the literal sense but also the figurative one; there, girls could challenge themselves, free from the judgment of the outside world. At camp, we—for several summers, I was a camper too—learned to dive, to build a fire, to make friends. We practiced our courage and resilience, how to skin our knees and keep on hiking, how to carefully extract a tick. Even when disaster sent us underground, we were always ultimately okay. It was good for campers to be a little uncomfortable and homesick. These moments were and are the purpose of camp—preparation for the trials of real-world life. [View: Deadly flooding in Texas] And what I haven't been able to stop thinking about is the unfathomable tragedy that, last week in the Texas Hill Country, at least a dozen little girls lost their lives while they were learning how to be brave. Camp leaders across the country can't stop thinking about it, either. 'It is quite literally our worst nightmare,' Georgia Del Favero, a co-director of Camp Birchwood, a Minnesota summer camp for girls, told me. Right now, hundreds of camps, including Del Favero's, are in the middle of a summer session, or are about to welcome a new busload of children for three days or a week or a month. Moving forward requires accepting that, at camp as in life, we can make plans and follow guidelines, but even then, 'we can't always prevent tragedy.' Camp Mystic is a Christian camp, and one of several summer camps dotting the Guadalupe River in central Texas. It's a century-old, sprawling complex with two campuses and a range of activities on offer, including horseback riding, riflery, and synchronized swimming. Last week's flood came only a few days into a month-long summer session, and hundreds of campers were spread out across several cabins. When the rain began in earnest, early on the morning of July 4, most of those campers were still asleep. [Elizabeth Bruenig: An inhospitable land] Details about what happened next are murky, and news reports are difficult for those unfamiliar with the camp layout to follow. What comes through most clearly, at least to me, is the charm of Mystic's site names, instantly recognizable to anyone with camp experience: Senior Hill, where older girls stayed and were safe from the rising river; the Giggle Box and Wiggle Inn cabins in the lower part of camp, where girls were able to ride out the flood or evacuate; the Bubble Inn cabin, full of little girls who couldn't. What comes through, as well, is the heroism of Mystic's staff, who smashed cabin windows to push their campers outside, carried girls on their backs, and wrote campers' names in Sharpie on their arms in case they were swept away in the flood. Dick Eastland, a longtime co-director of the camp, navigated his truck through the dark water and died trying to save the girls at Bubble Inn. Many children currently attending summer camp still have no idea that any of this has occurred. Lots of camps follow a no-phones policy that provides kids a psychological haven from the noise of modern life. But their parents have seen the news, and camp-office phones nationwide have been ringing for days. It's hard to know what to tell parents, Ariella Rogge, who oversees the High Trails Ranch camp for girls, in Colorado, told me. You can help to calm a parent's fears by outlining the stringent safety standards most camps follow or the staff's extensive disaster-preparedness training. Still, 10 girls from Texas are set to attend Rogge's camp this week, and some of their parents are understandably unnerved, she said. 'My husband didn't go to camp, I didn't go to camp, and I am incredibly risk-averse,' one mother told her, according to Rogge. Then again, the mother said, 'this is what my daughter has been dreaming about all year.' Rogge isn't sure whether that mother will still send her daughter to camp next week. But she hopes so. She's trying to help anxious parents recognize that two things can be true. 'You can know this is going to be a really great experience for your daughter, and that she's going to have all this personal growth,' Rogge said, 'and you can be really nervous and scared.' Camp directors like Rogge and Del Favero will use this moment to review their safety procedures and communicate them to concerned parents; they'll train counselors on how to comfort anxious campers. Some camps might need to reevaluate cabin locations or work with local officials to install effective weather-warning systems, which didn't exist near Mystic. But my hope is that people won't use this tragedy as an occasion to bubble-wrap their kids, or to take away from their child the chance at a life-changing summer. [Stephanie Bai: The Texas-flood blame game is a distraction] This week, I called my mom to ask what she would say to parents if she were still directing camp. 'I'd show them how we mitigate risk,' she told me. But then, she said, she'd tell them all the stories: of the girls who'd been shy before camp and who, by week's end, bloomed with confidence; of the campers who cooked themselves dinner for the first time under a starry sky; of the little girl who fell from a horse, went to the hospital, and demanded to immediately be brought back to camp. When Mom and I spoke about the Mystic campers, we talked less about the tragedy itself, and more about all the times when we were sure that they'd been brave. How, woken by the sound of thunder, girls might have climbed down from their bunks and gathered their bunkmates with urgent voices. How they might have waited one extra minute for a new friend to grab a flashlight or a teddy. How afraid they probably were, but also how determined, as they waded together into the muddy water. Article originally published at The Atlantic
Atlantic
12-07-2025
- Climate
- Atlantic
What Camp Gives Girls
A few specific sounds punctuate summer evenings in rural Iowa. A chorus of spring peepers, for example, or the shrill conk-la-ree of a red-winged blackbird on the side of a county road. But only one demands a response: the hostile, metallic beep of a NOAA weather radio. For 25 years, my mother ran Camp L-Kee-Ta, a small Girl Scout camp in the southeastern part of the state, which meant that, every summer, she was responsible for the safety of 64 girls and a staff of 20 young adults. At the first declaration of a tornado warning, Mom would walkie the counselors, instructing them to move their campers indoors. She'd ring the camp's cast-iron bell as the wind began to howl. And, because my family lived on-site, she'd toss me in the truck before driving from the cabins at Hickory Hills to the huts at Trail's End, checking for stragglers. Within minutes, we'd all convene in the basement of the Troop House, the largest camp building, a few dozen girls sitting cross-legged on the concrete floor with snacks and songbooks. I don't recall much crying in these moments as the storm raged above us. Mainly, I remember singing. Camp felt safe, in the literal sense but also the figurative one; there, girls could challenge themselves, free from the judgment of the outside world. At camp, we—for several summers, I was a camper too—learned to dive, to build a fire, to make friends. We practiced our courage and resilience, how to skin our knees and keep on hiking, how to carefully extract a tick. Even when disaster sent us underground, we were always ultimately okay. It was good for campers to be a little uncomfortable and homesick. These moments were and are the purpose of camp—preparation for the trials of real-world life. View: Deadly flooding in Texas And what I haven't been able to stop thinking about is the unfathomable tragedy that, last week in the Texas Hill Country, at least a dozen little girls lost their lives while they were learning how to be brave. Camp leaders across the country can't stop thinking about it, either. 'It is quite literally our worst nightmare,' Georgia Del Favero, a co-director of Camp Birchwood, a Minnesota summer camp for girls, told me. Right now, hundreds of camps, including Del Favero's, are in the middle of a summer session, or are about to welcome a new busload of children for three days or a week or a month. Moving forward requires accepting that, at camp as in life, we can make plans and follow guidelines, but even then, 'we can't always prevent tragedy.' Camp Mystic is a Christian camp, and one of several summer camps dotting the Guadalupe River in central Texas. It's a century-old, sprawling complex with two campuses and a range of activities on offer, including horseback riding, riflery, and synchronized swimming. Last week's flood came only a few days into a month-long summer session, and hundreds of campers were spread out across several cabins. When the rain began in earnest, early on the morning of July 4, most of those campers were still asleep. Elizabeth Bruenig: An inhospitable land Details about what happened next are murky, and news reports are difficult for those unfamiliar with the camp layout to follow. What comes through most clearly, at least to me, is the charm of Mystic's site names, instantly recognizable to anyone with camp experience: Senior Hill, where older girls stayed and were safe from the rising river; the Giggle Box and Wiggle Inn cabins in the lower part of camp, where girls were able to ride out the flood or evacuate; the Bubble Inn cabin, full of little girls who couldn't. What comes through, as well, is the heroism of Mystic's staff, who smashed cabin windows to push their campers outside, carried girls on their backs, and wrote campers' names in Sharpie on their arms in case they were swept away in the flood. Dick Eastland, a longtime co-director of the camp, navigated his truck through the dark water and died trying to save the girls at Bubble Inn. Many children currently attending summer camp still have no idea that any of this has occurred. Lots of camps follow a no-phones policy that provides kids a psychological haven from the noise of modern life. But their parents have seen the news, and camp-office phones nationwide have been ringing for days. It's hard to know what to tell parents, Ariella Rogge, who oversees the High Trails Ranch camp for girls, in Colorado, told me. You can help to calm a parent's fears by outlining the stringent safety standards most camps follow or the staff's extensive disaster-preparedness training. Still, 10 girls from Texas are set to attend Rogge's camp this week, and some of their parents are understandably unnerved, she said. 'My husband didn't go to camp, I didn't go to camp, and I am incredibly risk-averse,' one mother told her, according to Rogge. Then again, the mother said, 'this is what my daughter has been dreaming about all year.' Rogge isn't sure whether that mother will still send her daughter to camp next week. But she hopes so. She's trying to help anxious parents recognize that two things can be true. 'You can know this is going to be a really great experience for your daughter, and that she's going to have all this personal growth,' Rogge said, 'and you can be really nervous and scared.' Camp directors like Rogge and Del Favero will use this moment to review their safety procedures and communicate them to concerned parents; they'll train counselors on how to comfort anxious campers. Some camps might need to reevaluate cabin locations or work with local officials to install effective weather-warning systems, which didn't exist near Mystic. But my hope is that people won't use this tragedy as an occasion to bubble-wrap their kids, or to take away from their child the chance at a life-changing summer. Stephanie Bai: The Texas-flood blame game is a distraction This week, I called my mom to ask what she would say to parents if she were still directing camp. 'I'd show them how we mitigate risk,' she told me. But then, she said, she'd tell them all the stories: of the girls who'd been shy before camp and who, by week's end, bloomed with confidence; of the campers who cooked themselves dinner for the first time under a starry sky; of the little girl who fell from a horse, went to the hospital, and demanded to immediately be brought back to camp. When Mom and I spoke about the Mystic campers, we talked less about the tragedy itself, and more about all the times when we were sure that they'd been brave. How, woken by the sound of thunder, girls might have climbed down from their bunks and gathered their bunkmates with urgent voices. How they might have waited one extra minute for a new friend to grab a flashlight or a teddy. How afraid they probably were, but also how determined, as they waded together into the muddy water.
