The Van Rolls On (without me).

Greg and I started Van Camp together (in its very primitive form) back in 2014. For ten years, we traveled together—usually him behind the wheel, and me managing the “Camp Phone,” a clipboard, two to three kid questions per minute, and sometimes my laptop from shotgun.

Together, we taught kids (a dozen at a time) that sometimes, the Dunks drive-thru truly is just for grown-ups’ coffee. I laughed at his ridiculous (and spontaneous!) stories and raps that would quiet the van in a split second. We took over beaches, museums, and waterparks. We crashed (kind and willing peoples’) backyard pools and (less kind and willing) public ponds. The kids and I sat on beach towels in a parking lot and live-streamed Greg eating five burgers from Five Guys.

Over the years, we had colleagues pop in and out (shout out to Ann and Andrew!), but year after year, it was always Greg and I.

Three years ago, Aidan jumped in. Greg will deny it, but he absolutely hazed Aidan- daring him to climb to the top of playground structures, eat a chicken parm sandwich for speed, initiating public improv scenes where Aidan played the part of a kind stranger treating 16 kids for ice cream. Greg made it clear that Aidan should sit in the striped beach chair while he and I dominated the original blue pair.

Summer after summer, my life was planned around Van Camp. I’d be invited to a concert or overnight trip in July, months in advance, but I’d squish my face and say, “Oof. Van Camp…” and I was immediately understood.

That changed last summer.

I was suddenly very aware that my own kids, original Van Campers themselves, were fast approaching college age- so we planned the cross country trip I’d always wanted to take with them- even though it crashed into the first week of Van Camp.

Sophie jumped in to cover me for a week. It was weird for me.

Not in a FOMO way, and not in a “I’m very special and only I can handle this” way, but more in a “Oh. Something is shifting,” way.

I returned from our trip, tagged Sophie out, and completed my three weeks of Van Camp. I laughed and schlepped and made too many AI songs with Greg, Aidan, and the kids (shout out to last summer’s greatest hits: Landon’s Uncle Gene, The Fart that Crossed the Atlantic, and The Legs of Miles Standish…) and knew in my gut that it was time for me to be done.

I wrestled with the decision during the school year, trying to imagine a July without Van Camp. I asked Sophie if she was ready to take the baton from me (she was), and I bounced the idea off of Aidan (he thought it made sense), and made my decision- it was time for me to step off the van.

And then, for months, I totally put off telling Greg.

I told myself that I wasn’t ready to tell Greg because he had made a decree that we would do Van Camp into our 50s (Not sure I ever agreed, but that’s still an open debate), and I didn’t want to let him down. But I’m not sure that’s true. I think I put it off because while I knew it was the right decision for me, I was sad.

I’ll never admit it to them in person- but on the first day Greg (now the Van Camp Boss), Aidan, and Sophie took off for Van Camp, I waved goodbye and then went into my office and wiped my eyes a little bit.

Most days this past month, I’ve seen the crew off in the morning, but gradually, slowly, I’ve let go of always being there in the afternoon. I’ve let myself work from home some days. I’ve taken my daughter on college visits. I’ve been doing the summer work of a school director at a pace that makes sense (rather than cramming it all into exhausted Fridays and a frantic August). I’ve started to work through years of my social lessons, and am creating an online course and an accompanying book. Because I created the space for myself.

Today is the last day of Van Camp, and I am on a train to Washington, DC to attend a conference for microschool founders. My brain is moving forward, but my grateful heart is in the back parking lot of Accord Park Drive, where I know Aidan is checking phone messages, and Sophie is packing the first aid kit and snacks, and Greg is thinking through the traffic and the weather.

Letting go of something you love is easier when it’s placed in the hands of colleagues you love.

Thank you Greg, Aidan, and Sophie. Roll on… and then, have a rest. You’ve all more than earned it.