The Invisible Backpack and Me
The Invisible Backpack and Me
As a camp counselor we often hear the term “Invisible Backpack.” It is a staple of behavior management, and we assume that when the time comes, we will know how to deal with it. I want to share an experience I recently had in regards to the invisible backpack, and how it changed my counseling style. For privacy’s sake I’m going to change the names and locations of the events, but everything else will be the same.
It was a typical Friday afternoon and I had a local school group coming in for a very brief earth education class. The plan was to have snack, take a short hike, build survival shelters, and then the buses would pick everyone up. I stood at the edge of the road near our dining hall awaiting the bus and enjoying what was probably my third cup of coffee for the day. The buses arrived a short while after that and unloaded twenty kids and one adult that were going to spend the next three hours with me in the Pine Barrens.
“Good morning everyone!” I shouted as they exited the bus. I find that if I show enthusiasm from the moment I meet children at our Outdoor Center they tend to carry that enthusiasm with them. Many of the kids were very receptive as I began chatting away with all of them, describing our schedule and telling them all about camp.
And then Peter spoke up.
“This sucks. You suck.”
I had no idea that the next three hours of my life would test every ounce of my patience, tenacity, and behavior management.
As we worked our way through the dining hall, picking out what snack we wanted, it became clear that Peter wanted the spotlight on him at all times. He would shout. He ran around kicking chairs, pushing napkin dispensers around on the tables. He tried to steal other people’s snacks.
I knew I had to intervene, and quick. Smiling, I asked Peter if I could talk to him for a little bit while we ate snack. I took that opportunity to set my expectations of him on this school trip, and had him explain why he thought his school was there. And it didn’t even phase him.
Throughout the entirety of the hike and the shelter building Peter continued to disrupt the entire group. And as I worked through every counseling strategy I knew, I could feel myself losing. Every ounce of me wanted to “pick up the rope” and engage Peter the way he was fishing for. I couldn’t take it.
I didn’t understand why this kid was uncoachable. I couldn’t understand. I had worked with thousands of children similar to Peter before, but I couldn’t get through to him like I had with all of the other kids.
Needless to say, by the end of those three hours the only thing I felt was defeat. My mission is to help create better children, and I honestly thought that I had failed Peter. I didn’t understand how one child could be so “bad”. I poured myself another cup of coffee and took a walk to the observatory dock to sort out my mind, and internally debrief what had gone wrong. Yet still, I came up short.
It wasn’t until a week later that I got my answer. My father and stepmother were visiting me for a couple of days, and one evening we decided to go bowling. After the first game or so, I looked over to my left and saw Peter.
He was there with his family, bowling as well. He was with his mom, dad, and two brothers. However, he was different. He was calm. He was very quiet. And he had completely changed since the last time I saw him. I then noticed his family. His father was helping one of his brothers bowl, while his mother calmed his other brother down.
His older brother was on the spectrum and his younger brother had downs. And I felt ashamed. One week earlier I had convinced myself that Peter was the “worst” or “most difficult” camper that I had ever worked with. I had used every ounce of mental stamina to help correct his behavior and nothing had worked. I finally understood why. When he was home, he was his parents rock. He was the support system for his brothers, and he was never in the spotlight. School gave him an outlet to make things about him for once, an opportunity that I knew he enjoyed.
Finally, his invisible backpack started to seem a little more visible.
I share this story because it is not often as a secondary educator that we get an opportunity to peer into the lives of our campers. We know they have invisible backpacks, but for the most part we never know what is in them. Since that day in the bowling alley I have made a promise to myself that I intend to keep for the rest of my career. No matter their behavior or how difficult a camper may seem, I will give them my 100%. I will always be mindful that I will never know anyone’s full story, so I will never EVER believe a camper to be bad.
“Every person you meet is fighting a battle you know nothing about.”
So now, as we near the start of summer, I ask that everyone keep that quote in mind. It is one thing to know about the invisible backpack. It is a completely different beast to help manage it. I learned the hard way that no matter how many years I counsel or how many children I work with, every child’s story is unique. Every child has different needs and wants, while deserving equal amounts of my compassion and mentoring.
I’ll close with a quote that the great Bob Ditter once told me. “We do not control the campers, we influence them.” Take every opportunity you get with kids to influence them, and never EVER forget about the invisible backpack.











