Every summer of second through seventh grade, I attended the Johns Hopkins Center for Talented Youth summer camp. In my first year, the superficial aspects attracted me. The opportunity to experience a high school or college level course in a three weeks? Absolutely! The chance to work with like-minded, high-achieving peers? Yes, please!

But I returned to CTY every summer not for the academics, but for the culture. You see, CTY whisked me out of my lackluster life and into a weird, wacky, wonderful world. CTY exhilarated me; I made friends and experienced traditions that shaped me.

In school, I always felt a little out of place, and made few friends. Other students did not openly bully me, but I felt ostracized. I didn't fit with the "normal" kids who liked to run around on the playground or play house. I didn't fit with the "normal" kids who sat at the lunch table and laughed about the latest pop culture phenomenon. In kindergarten, I had two friends. By fifth grade, I had four. And these friendships were not the conventional kind; we had a sort of mutual respect for each other and discussed only outside topics such as class or an interesting book. We never shared our personal stories; we never fully engaged as humans adventuring through life together.

At CTY, I formed innumerable unbreakable friendships that proved utterly critical to my current persona. I found my best friends today in my logic class. Alongside learning about natural language arguments, we debated relativism and whether a snow shovel is art, and in doing so, laughed with each other. While studying fallacies, we wrote farcical sketches of the presidential debates, and guffawed at Rump and Lint’s slanders. And after class, we bonded in our common experiences. We told about our backgrounds back home and rejoiced in having the company of other nerds and outcasts.

CTY welcomed the different, misunderstood kids. It provided an environment for them to flourish and experience fun. It allowed much-needed meaningful, engaging conversation. It hosted “mandatory fun” and “meet market.” As a “squirrel,” a newcomer to residential and Real CTY (for seventh grade and up), a “squirrel mother,” an older student, took me under her wing. She taught me about positions and CTY royalty, and introduced me to the cool kids: the one with the Newsies cap, the charming one with the stuffed spoon, the one who wore a bathrobe and carried extra towels on Thursdays to signify the End Of The World. She introduced me to obscure 1980s songs whose lyrics campers belted out at dances, and the Rocky Horror Picture Show, which the dramatically inclined reenacted. I discovered the traditional side of camp, the rites and rituals that had evolved over the 40 years of its existence.

CTY changed me. I learned to be kind and encouraging and accepting, to engage with other human beings, to love everyone for their quirks. I learned to embrace innovation while respecting tradition, to create what will bring happiness and laughter to the world, to treasure little momentous moments. At the end of their last session at CTY, it is tradition for “nomores” who are aging out to speak about their experiences at CTY and how CTY has changed them. Each speech ends with a shot of passionfruit juice and the line, “I love CTY, and I love the Passionfruit.” So,

I love CTY, and I love the Passionfruit.