The Thing My Pride Was Costing Us

Last weekend at Sundaes at camp, MK and Daniel designed a scavenger hunt for the kids. I don't know how long they spent on it but it was elaborate: clues, stations, the whole thing. It worked. From across the field, all you could hear was shrieking. It was awesome.

While the kids ran around, a group of us - mostly moms, a few dads - ended up in a loose circle on the grass. No talking points, no agenda, just watching their kids be feral in the best possible away. I told them where things stood.

Enrollment this summer is lower than it's been in recent years. Not dangerously, but notably. Our returning families are coming back, but we're not finding enough new families. I wanted to know why.

I'd just come back from a camp industry conference where a camp consultant and friend Dan Weir presented data on what families say they want right now. The top answer, across the board: safety. So I asked: is that what you were thinking about when you signed up your kid for Stomping Ground? The answer was a near unanimous no.

Not because they don't care about safety, of course they do! And for us, safety is non-negotiable. But it's not what makes us unique. Families chose us because of the risk that comes with freedom and independence . Because their kid gets to wander. Make decisions. Mess things up and figure out how to fix them. Get bored and invent something. Come home a little more themselves than when they left.

Standing in that field, I felt something settle. The families who find us - who really find us- get it. The message is landing. The why is clear. So then I asked the harder question.

I've been hearing something lately that I haven't wanted to sit with. Local families who want to snd their kids to camp - families not struggling, not in crisis, in the 'middle' of the economic ladder- are deciding not to register because they think the price is too high and the sliding scale isn't for them.

Here is where I need to be honest about something embarrassing.

For years, I have resisted the word 'discount.' Sibling discount, early bird discount, friend referral discount. It felt cheap to me. We build something I believe in so completely - something that took years and crossed 47 states and 200 communities to dream into existence - and I didn't want it marketed like a mattress sale.

I told the parents that, and one of them laughed (not unkindly) and said:

"Laura, I think your pride might be getting in the way of me getting my friends' kids to camp."

She's right.

There's something wild going on with human psychology here. Middle-income families look at our sliding scale and think, “that's for people who need it more than us.” They know there's a whole world of families with fewer resources, and they don't want to take from that. And we lose a family who would have become part of this community for years.

Here's the thing, though: the sliding scale really is for everyone. But in an effort to be transparent, we've pushed folks away.

So, here's what I want to say to every family reading this.

If you're already signed up and want more camp, bring a friend with you to an additional session. Send us their name and we'll give you 50% off that second session. Not because we're running a promotion, but because word of mouth is the only marketing that actually works, and you deserve a thank you for it.

If you've read to here, I also want to thank you. With - wait for it - a discount code.

Use the code FOREVERYONEfor 15% off any new registrations from now until camp starts. It'll work for returners and new campers alike.

If that still doesn't work but you want to come to camp, just email tell us. Email daniel@campstompingground.org. Say: I want my kid there and I can do about 65% of the cost. Or 30%. Or 80%. Whatever. Just come. We mean it. No forms, no income verification, no awkward conversation. Just tell us what works.

And if you're reading this and your family is genuinely comfortable, like you could pay full price and then some, consider doing that. That's what we mean by the sliding scale is for everyone.

Washington is a mess. The world feels loud and frightening and divided. I don't have answers to any of that. What I have is this field and kids shrieking acrosss it, and a deep, stubborn belief that if we can figure out how to live together (how to really live together across all the differences that keep us apart), then something beautiful is possible.

You want in? You're in. No questions asked.

See you at camp.

-Laura