Get the latest Syracuse news delivered right to your inbox.
Subscribe to our newsletter here.

There’s a preconceived notion that when you reach college age, you’re supposed to abandon all the things associated with childhood to prove your maturation.

People tell you it’s time to grow up and prepare for the real world – and while that may be partially true, it’s daunting to convince yourself to part with the things that accompanied your growing up.

That thing for me was summer camp. I grew up attending Camp Kennybrook in upstate New York, and this past summer was supposed to be my first year absent since 2012. Unsurprisingly, I was anxious for what summer would feel like now that the one constant in my life was gone.

Junior and senior year, especially, an unspoken expectation materializes that you need to spend summers completing an internship or some other experience related to your field of study. I’d felt behind most of my classmates for never having a “real” job prior other than being a summer camp counselor.

Throughout junior year, I found myself replacing doomscrolling on TikTok with doomscrolling on LinkedIn. I ended up securing an internship as an editorial intern for a real estate publication I thought would be a great fit for me.

But, I hated every second of it.

The company itself was great; my coworkers were wonderful and I was doing genuinely meaningful tasks rather than run-of-the-mill intern grunt work. But every day as I stared into my computer screen at a cubicle alone, all I could think about was how sad I was to be missing camp.

At the same time, there was a voice in my head trying to convince me this was the right thing to do as a rising senior. I needed to experience a real job in the real world, and this internship was meant to be my gateway. Still, it felt so wrong.

By week three, I felt like a shell of myself. It was as if part of me was missing, like I had lost a key element of my identity. I called the woman who owns my summer camp and begged for a job, offering to show up as early as the next day.

Unfortunately, there were no positions available. She promised that if something did come up, I’d be the first person she’d call. It felt like a glimmer of hope.

But that hope didn’t cure the isolation I felt in the following weeks. I didn’t open up to anyone around me or tell them how much I was struggling; I was embarrassed and ashamed for not enjoying the newfound sense of adulthood that accompanies securing a great internship.

In the middle of July, my camp owner suddenly let me know of a job opening. Despite my close circle telling me it was a bad idea and a waste of time, I knew I couldn’t continue in the state I was in.

I spoke with my internship supervisor and requested to switch to working remotely, which she allowed. I packed my bags and drove up to camp the following morning. Truth be told, it was the best decision I’d made in a long time.

I felt so at home being back at camp. I had an administrative role, which was new but super exciting. I earned experience that helped me formulate some ideas for my future, even in pursuing something totally different than my original summer internship.

I can confidently say the internship did teach me a few things; I’m not cut out for a corporate lifestyle, I should’ve gone with my gut, and I should’ve validated my need for more time.

I don’t think I’m ready to fully part with my childhood or the things that I loved, and I’ve finally realized that’s okay. We’re not meant to do what anyone else’s timeline standardizes and we’re never too old to follow the path that makes us happiest.

I can’t tell you exactly what I want to do after graduation or what career I’ll pursue for the rest of my life, but I do know I have the rest of my life ahead of me, and I’m going to spend my time as such.

Gracie Lebersfeld is a senior majoring in selected studies in education and creative writing. She can be reached at gmlebers@syr.edu.

Published on August 27, 2025 at 9:22 pm