If you take I-83 south from I-695, the heart of Baltimore city is a 16.02 mile journey from the peace and tranquility of Notre Dame Preparatory School’s campus on Hampton lane. 16.02 miles. And yet within this small distance is held a vast separation. Where does it come from? What is it these 16.02 miles hold? Do 16.02 miles span the difference between Baltimore County’s 8.9% poverty rate and Baltimore City’s poverty rate of 23.8%? On April 19, 2015, Freddie Gray, the tragedy of his death, and the riots that followed became the face of Baltimore City for people all over the nation. 16.02 miles away, we could not help but be affected in our class rooms and in our hallway discussions. But every other year, why do these 16.02 miles seen so vast?
The riots in Baltimore were heartbreaking, but out of the ashes, one good thing did arise. Attention. Media from all over the nation turned its lens to the crisis of urban poverty, the neglect of schools in poor neighborhoods, and the corruption of the criminal justice system. At NDP, we have always been concerned with these issues, but it seems this was a year where more than ever we wondered how we could connect across those 16.02 miles.
There is a reason Camp Umoja is named after the Swahili word for unity. When NDP students spend their summers bonding with kids from Inner city public housing, playing games, swimming, doing crafts, and sharing stories, those 16.02 miles melt away. Camp Umoja is a day camp for children aged 6 to 11 where the key to success is the one on one relationships formed between a counselor and a camper. Because of this unique bond, both camper and counselor feel the constant attention and love that can mean the world to anyone.
This year was particularly special as it was Umoja’s thirty year anniversary. But the kids were hardly aware of this fact as they were far more concerned with the task of earning the prestigious shark swim badge given to those who make it all the way across the pool at the end of camp. Some other highlights include when Rita’s Italian Ice was served on the last day of Session One, when everyone got together to watch Night at the Museum in the auditorium, and when the campers beat the counselors yet again in capture the flag.
As with every year, the first day of camp was life-changing. Nerves, excitement, and indescribable energy hung over the air as the campers dismounted the bus for the first time and selected their counselors. I often wonder what it is that magnetizes a camper to a counselor—is it how well they like your sneakers or is it something more psychic and magical? Maybe the kids can just sense who you are from how far back you stand or how big your smile is.
For me, the first day was a bit distressing. My camper from 2014, who had informed me that I was his wife when last we saw each other, came off the bus and informed me that we were now divorced. How could this have happened? I always let him have my cookies! But fortunately, the divorce barely lasted until lunch time, and soon I was once again wed to an eight year old.
My camper this year was also special. Every day when she arrived, we did our best to get to the game table first and snag Operation, her favorite game. When I asked her why she loved Operation so much, she informed me that it is her ambition to become a doctor. Well, her career choices are either doctor or a fashion model—one of the two. Whatever she chooses to do, I believe in her.
As the bus prepared to depart on the last day of camp, the counselors reached out their hands to touch the fingertips of the kids on the bus. The window pane separating us was too far a distance—let alone 16.02 miles. Two weeks of time together placed those kids in our souls, as inseparable from our hearts as alveoli. We said our good byes, our I love you’s, our I’ll miss you’s, and we meant every single word of it. As the bus pulled away, I began to cry as the distance increased and increased. I even took several steps forward as the bus turned onto Hampton Lane, as if that could somehow close the gap. But the truth is, that distance cannot be measured in miles. After all, if you do not understand someone, your noses can be inches apart while your souls are on opposite ends of the earth. Proximity is instead a matter of our concerns, our comforts, and our compassion. The distance is not outward it is inward, and if you wish to traverse it, you can always find the greatest Umoja in the depths of your heart.

“Baltimore County, Maryland.” State & County QuickFacts. United States Census Bureau, 5 Aug. 2015. Web. 20 Aug. 2015. .