What I Did On My Summer Vacation

[August 16th, 2006] In summers of yore, kids went to camps on wooded lakes, staffed by amorous teens. After weeks of swimming, archery and making out in the bushes, camp ended in one of two ways: an epic competition against the assholes across the lake, or a bloodbath that only Jamie Lee Curtis could survive.

Oregon still has more than 30 of these old-school camps. The YMCA's Camp Collins has hiking and horseback riding. Kids can canoe with Jesus at Christian Twin Rocks Friends Camp or keep it kosher at Jewish B'nai B'rith Camp. And campers are tricked into learning at a range of OMSI camps. These classics give kids a week of overnight fun for $300 to $600. For $100 to $300, parents can dump their kids at day camps, like Portland Parks and Recreation's Sports Fitness camps.

But these general-interest camps are getting competition from niche-marketed urban camps. Hot on the heels of the popular Rock 'n' Roll Camp for Girls, WW visited four of these "camps" to figure out what these kids are learning, who's doing the teaching and what these programs are selling. Our conclusion? Despite our initial cynicism, these programs are creating some amazing opportunities for kids—some at little to no cost to their families. Right now, it's easy to be a happy camper.

^FASHION DESIGN CAMP

Founder: Tacee Webb

Established: 2006

Target Camper: 10-year-old teeny-bopping, Cosmo Girl-reading, Project Runway addict.

Time and Money: Five days, 9 am-3 pm. $85.

Camp Alternative: Cutting up Avril Lavigne tees into leg warmers to sell to fellow campers. Or there's always macramé.

Most conventional moms would say that if you missed the boat for camp this summer, well, "Honey, there's always next year." But not Tacee Webb. When her 8-year-old daughter, Palace, found out that the Rock 'n' Roll Camp for Girls was chock-full, the fashion-minded Webb (a location manager for American Apparel) responded without so much as a blink. "Well, then I guess we are just gonna have to start our own camp now, aren't we?" And so she gave birth to Fashion Design Camp—a seriously fashionable five-day crash course in all things crafty chic.

Last week, Fashion Design Camp HQ, a four-story residence on Twenty-Third Avenue, bustled with a medley of workshops, from crafting studded belts and screen-printing to sewing and pattern-making. The camp culminated in a photo shoot and a fashion-show blowout with the campers modeling their finished design pieces (a.k.a. "the collections"). Several of Portland's fashion gurus volunteered their quality time with the 13 crafty campers. Kathryn Towers and Holly Stalder of design atelier Seaplane conducted "reconstruct" sewing projects with the, frankly, adorable tykes. "We made little Seaplane dresses," said Stalder, who worked with the little ladies on slip dresses.

Michele Bossart, a 29-year-old fashion designer who moved to Portland from Buenos Aires, whipped up 13 custom-made pieces in less than 12 hours from the girls' original designs following the pattern-making part of the camp. "It isn't the instant gratification that these girls are used to," said Bossart. "When they heard how much work went into a product of quality, they were intimidated. But then they saw their ideas transformed into a piece of clothing they could hold in their hands, and they were so happy." Nine-and-a-half-year-old camper Hannah Cable, who created her own line called "Spice," had no idea how much work went into what she wore on her back. "I thought a shirt only had two pieces," said Cable right before the fashion show. "Oh my God! It has like eight!"

At Friday night's big fashion show, many of the parents, savvy fashion campers themselves including Ultra's Lisa Radon and several Nike-philes, were beaming at the children's creations and asking when they could sign up for the next camp. And why not? The tweeners leave with their very own label and a completed portfolio, plus a heightened awareness of fashion as a whole. As for the lack of boys participating in the camp, Palace (decked out in electric-yellow leggings, a handmade crocheted tank top and a plaid paper-boy chap hat) all-knowingly equates it to the fact that boys "start developing fashion skills at the age of 30—and girls, about 5." ELIANNA BAR-EL & BYRON BECK.

^ARTIST MENTORSHIP PROGRAM (AMP)

Founder: Will Kendall

Established: July 13, 2006

Target Campers: 16- to 24-year-olds, homeless or at-risk youths.

Time and Money: Two hours, 6-8 pm Thursdays. Free.

Organization and Company Ties: CD Baby has chipped in a huge chunk of change, as did Ben and Jerry's, Escape from New York Pizza and Infinity Tattoo.

Camp Alternative: Singin' "Kumbaya, my Lord."

The huge Eastside Industrial warehouse at 226 SE Madison St. houses a number of bands, silk-screening studios, parties and events. To the fledgling musicians of AMP, it's Carnegie Hall.

Designed to teach music to homeless and at-risk youths (gang or drug-affected, displaced, etc.), the self-financed Artist Mentorship Program puts control in the hands of its troubled young clientele. With musicians on hand, the kids call the shots. "It's for the youth to decide their outcome," says mentor and founder Will Kendall of New Avenues for Youth. "The kids determine their own musical growth, and we support them. If they want to push in a direction, or if they just want to lose themselves in music and just play, then why not? They're entitled to do that."

Kendall says he never attended any program or camp as a kid, musical or otherwise. In fact, he says, it was his frustration with his musical progress as a kid—and the lack of musical programs—that helped inspire AMP. "Working with musicians escalates the learning curve so much," he adds.

In one room, Ryan Johnston, bassist from the Dimes, is holding a beat for 17-year-old Jason, who says he's always wanted to play the drums but never had a chance (AMP youth names have been kept anonymous at the request of organizers). When he arrived, he could barely hit the kick drum. Now he's playing along with Johnston, grinning ear to ear and holding a steady beat. "The drums make me so happy," he exclaims. "I need to get some sticks to practice with." Kendall tosses him a new pair: "There you go."

"This is the best day of my life," says Jason, half-jokingly.

Meanwhile, Dan, 16, is getting his second round of guitar lessons from Adam Sherburne. Last week, Dan picked up the guitar for the first time. Now he's shredding blues licks, nodding along silently.

Each week has brought in two new youths. The structure of the program makes it work no matter the volume of students, and as it grows, so too will the number of youths on hand.

It's a highly personal experience, with the artists working intimately with their apprentices, recording demos, teaching musical techniques, spinning turntables and more. All equipment is provided (AMP raises the $400 a month for space rental through fundraisers, including a poker tournament and a tattoo marathon), and weekly jam sessions between the youth and mentors tie it together for the young musicians. Yesterday, they didn't know how to play a note. Now they're jamming with pros, without a care in the world.

That itself is a victory for AMP. "The escapism is great. These are amazing kids," says Kendall as the session closes and the youth head back into the world with a noticeable strut in their steps. AP KRYZA.

^NORTHWEST FILM CENTER'S YOUNG FILMMAKERS PROGRAM

Camp Director: Bill Foster

Established: 1974

Target Camper: 15-year-old cinephile fresh from watching The Corporation.

Time and Money: Five days, 9 am-3 pm. $230, plus a lab and equipment fee of $50.

Traditional Camp Alternative: Staging goofy theme-skits to win the all-camp "Best Cabin" competition.

It's like a scene outta The Breakfast Club: There's the token "troubled" teen, Ian Dill, 15, with buttons littering his black jean jacket. When asked why he decided to take part in camp, he curtly responds, "I've got a lot of opinions to express," and then carries on with his brooding, forced disengagement. There's the overly upbeat, super-involved goody-two-shoes, Madeleine Hudson, 15, raving about theater, who, when asked if she's allowed to watch R-rated movies, swears she "tends not to like that kind of stuff." And, of course, there's the good-looking athlete, Brett Reed, 16, who "works construction or plays football" in his spare time. Not to mention Cole Davenport, 14, the eager self-professed movie buff, spitting out well-known directors' names and dreams of being a cinematographer through his metallic blue braces.

The scene is set in the Park Blocks, the chosen location to test out some newly acquired filming techniques on unsuspecting passersby.

The nine students who make up this Documentary/Activism Filmmaking course (one of 10 "camp" classes offered each summer by the Film Center) have had one full day of training so far. This bright morning in late July is their first opportunity to shine. In groups of three, each armed with a digital video camera, shotgun microphone ME 66 Sennheiser, audio kits and tripods, they set out to bombard/interview locals. The topic? Global warming. Most of the people the group interview don't feel "properly educated enough" on the topic to give credible answers. Nonetheless, interviews are conducted, the teens flexing their interviewing muscles, such as they are, addressing a social issue and working together in all their awkward teenage glory to organize a convincing message on film.

The instructor of the course, Iraqi-born documentary filmmaker Bushra Azzouz, moved to the United States at about the same age as her current students are now. She recounts childhood summers as being so simple in comparison with film camp. "We used to just be in the water—constantly, day in and day out. We had nothing like this," she marvels. Perhaps "summer camp" dynamics have evolved into highly intensive and specified workshops, but the dynamics of high school—the cliques and the stereotypes—have more than enough staying power. ELIANNA BAR-EL.

^COMPLETE SKATE

Founder: Ryan Pederson

Established: An after-school program since 2004. 2006 marks its first summer camp.

Time and Money: Afternoons Monday through Thursday, late July to late August. Free.

Organization and Company Ties: Northeast Coalition of Neighborhoods, Zoo York Skateboards, Sun Diego Skate Shop, Zero Skateboards, Department of Skateboarding, New Seasons.

Camp Alternative: Disco roller-skating with the girls' camp across the lake.

Twelve kids filter into a room at the Northeast Coalition of Neighborhoods headquarters in now-defunct Martin Luther King Jr. Middle School. They're Hispanic, black and white; they wear baggy shorts, jeans, oversized T-shirts with stretched-out necks, beat up sneakers. Some carry skateboards.

They're here for Ryan Pederson's COMPLETE Skate—a free skateboarding day camp where kids can earn boards, shoes, helmets, hats, and lots of stickers donated from local and national businesses. The kids just have to show up twice each week and complete classroom activities like making posters and writing in their journals.

Today the lesson's about "qualities": The kids brainstorm a list of adjectives describing adults they know, which Pederson transcribes in Magic Marker. "Funny, short-tempered, intelligent," they say. Pederson is leading his campers to a bigger idea. He wants them to form an image of the kind of adults they want to be and aim for it.

It's summer, so Pederson has toned down the classwork. For the past two years, COMPLETE Skate has been an after-school program—first at Whitaker, then at Harriet Tubman middle schools. During the school year, if kids want to skate, they have to sign up for an hour of tutoring.

At 2:10 pm, Pederson and the kids grab boards and helmets and hop the bus to the Department of Skateboarding skate park. "It's a big step, dropping in," says Pederson, who's been skating for 18 years. "It's a landmark for every skater." He's watching 7-year-old Gerardo Rojas casually ride his board over the nearly vertical lip of a sizable half-pipe. Rojas is Pederson's youngest camper. Technically, he's too young. And technically, the camp is only for North/Northeast Portland public schoolers, but Pederson doesn't turn kids away.

Working as a substitute teacher and counselor in North and Northeast Portland schools, Pederson, 29, who says he grew up poor, identifies with many of his students. His campers also live in low-income neighborhoods. Many of their families can't afford the traditional camps mentioned the intro to this story. For most, COMPLETE is the only fun, organized activity in a long, and largely unsupervised, summer.

As Pederson and his campers pile in the bus to head back to the NECN, he asks the kids one by one where they're going, who's picking them up. Some of their noncommittal answers are worrisome.

"This can be hard. Some of them don't have anything to do," he says. He adds that many of his campers' parents work late and can't afford day care—or aren't responsible. But Pederson's mood lightens as Maceo, a wiry, light-skinned kid in a baseball hat, walks up to him and extends his fist. Pederson punches it lightly. "See you tomorrow," says Maceo. ETHAN SMITH.