Now that my eighth grader is back in school it seems like a good time to reflect on some lessons learned during the summer months that are based less on studying and reading books, and more on having experiences.

In West Virginia’s state parks there are programs that teach kids about nature. Last summer my daughter participated in an exploration of the creek that runs through Lost River State Park in Hardy County.

She and the other children gathered in front of the pool house, where the naturalist showed them pictures of the critters they could expect to find, helpfully offering an assessment of which makes good fish bait. He also gave them nets so they could catch some things.

The naturalist then escorted the lively group of children and their parents—many of whom were from the Washington, D.C. area—to the creek where they proceeded to capture things like crayfish, salamanders, minnows, and various insects. After spending some time scouring the creek for critters that they deposited in a bucket, the naturalist had the children gather around a picnic table where he let them get a closer look through a magnifying glass. Parents were asked to take some of the creatures­—like the salamanders and a crayfish with a soft shell—back to the creek where they were released.

Once these special critters were given their freedom, the naturalist picked up the bucket and led his band of young hunters up the hill to the nature center where he proceeded to dump the creatures that were left in the bucket into a big tank of bass where—much to the horror of one or two parents from the city—the fish proceeded to feast on the bounty that the children had captured.

Unlike their horrified parents, the children were excited to see the fish eat, and they cheered whenever a bass was successful at gobbling down a bug or minnow. This was a real-life, hands-on lesson about the ecosystem and the food web—something not as easily learned by seeing a diagram in a science book.

(Listen to the Shepherd carillon play the old fight song)

One of the pleasures of working at Shepherd University, and in Shepherdstown is hearing the bells toll at the top of each hour. One particular bell caught my attention last year because it rang out the Westminster Chimes and struck the noon hour—then it played a pretty melody I didn’t recognize.

It took me a few weeks to realize the chimes, which were louder than the others in town, were coming from the roof of the Student Center. It turns out Shepherd has a carillon that was purchased in 1984, which Student Center Director Don Rohel gladly showed me one day.

Seeing the machine that plays the song is like stepping back into a time when we all listened to music on that newfangled, state-of-the-art technology, the eight track tape. There are probably a dozen eight tracks sitting on top of the machine with a variety of once popular songs on them. But the one that plays at noon, according to Don, is an old fight song.

Students are returning to campus this week to prepare for the start of the fall semester. I hope if they are walking outside around noon that they pause a few minutes to enjoy the beautiful melody sung by Shepherd’s carillon.

We recently picked our 12-year-old daughter up from an overnight camp on the other side of Baltimore, Maryland, almost to the Delaware border. She attended the second of a two-week session so parents were invited to the closing ceremony on a Friday afternoon that took place in the outdoor amphitheater. As we stood around watching the counselors perform a funny skit and listening to them lead the campers in song, it brought back fond memories of wonderful days at summer camp in the heart of West Virginia.

I spent a month each summer at Camp Tygart in Randolph County, which was operated by the Catholic Diocese of Wheeling-Charleston, while my sister spent six weeks at horse camp at Ruby Farms in Preston County.

At Camp Tygart our days were filled with swimming, canoeing, archery, riflery, crafts, daily mass, and hiking. At least one night we hauled our sleeping bags out to a pasture and snoozed under the stars, careful to avoid any droppings left behind by the usual occupants of that particular field.

Every week there was a long hike up a mountain that often included the view of a large meadow covered in tall grass and wildflowers blowing in the breeze, a trail ride on mules that were often less than thrilled to be hauling us around, and a big bonfire where we sat around telling ghost stories and singing songs, many made popular by Peter Paul and Mary that were really meant as a protest against an unpopular war. But there were other songs that were part of our camp tradition. They were silly ditties about eating worms (which we always sang before a spaghetti meal), and the song of the sewer (which made little sense but was fun to sing anyway).

Camp Tygart operated one-week sessions, and at the end of each week we looked forward to a trip to nearby Kumbrabow State Forest, where we picnicked and swam in an icy mountain creek, complete with a waterfall to slide down. For campers who stayed more than one week there were weekend activities that usually involved hauling us in the back of a big truck somewhere like a drive-in movie, or to Cass Scenic Railroad.

At the camp my daughter attends they don’t sleep in cow pastures or haul the kids anywhere in the back of big trucks. But they do offer a ton of fun activities like international cooking, horseback riding, sailing, water skiing, and a challenge course with a zip line. They also offer their own traditions that I knew, as I watched that sea of young people standing arm-in-arm during the closing ceremony swaying side to side as they sang the camp’s theme song, were creating special memories that will last a lifetime.