why I love back-to-school photos

Part of an ongoing series on the "why" behind The Summer Camp Project. Full story here → Our Story

School starts early to mid August where I grew up in suburbs outside of Dallas, Texas. This would’ve been around the time when I was getting anxious about the first day of school.

As we did with most things, my brothers and I would make a game of gathering any school supplies we had, put it all in a pile in the middle, and go line by line of what we were required to have. We would each ration off to ourselves from what we had in the pile. Sometimes, this would mean we would break things into halves just so each of us would have something.

Then I’d go to the closet, where each of us siblings had our entire wardrobe in plastic standing hampers with the hinge flip tops, and try to pull together a few outfits. I would supplement with making additional garments and accessories using scraps from my biological mom’s at-home sewing business.

It was the best we could do.

If we were lucky, we would be able to afford to buy shoes from Payless. Sometimes we would go with our toes bending and curling. We misjudged how much we’d grow, underestimating that we should’ve gone bigger than we already did the year before.

Coulda. Woulda. Shoulda.

Then I learned that we qualified for free school supplies. Only a few kids would get one of the plastic-wrapped sets, which was distributed from the front of the class. So as a kid, I would hear my [mispronounced] name called, and walked a shame parade of self pity going up to the front, collect the gift, and take it back to my desk.

I felt my face getting red. My body would warm. My chest would feel tight. I’d panic for air, like I was a pencil shoved into a box inside the plastic wrap.

I still remember the shame so vividly. I hated myself for being poor. I was confused if I was supposed to feel grateful for receiving free school supplies or deeply embarrassed that my family couldn’t afford them. The shame spirals and self loathing would take a lifetime of unlearning.

Then things started to change.

After meeting Brian and Tammy one Christmas, we would begin to spend quality time with them. Tammy would take me to lunch and a chick flick film. Or two of my brothers would spend weekends playing ball with Brian. Tammy would send homemade treats back with the boys so the rest of the family could enjoy.

We had no idea homemade cookies could be so good. We never had them. We’ve only had the store packaged kind.

When the boys came back with a paper plate of Tammy’s oatmeal chocolate chip cookies covered with aluminum foil; we rationed them. We held on too tightly to something meant to be enjoyed, not preserved. They started molding before we could enjoy them all.

We made the best with what we had. I’m so glad those experiences shaped me into a creative and practical person today. Having enough would become joy. As time went on, having less would mean more peace.

Hue’s Field Notes:

The Pivot: Joy vs. Scarcity
​When I look at kids’ back-to-school photos today, I see the joy of anticipation, a childhood uninterrupted by the quiet anxiety of scarcity. I love seeing those photos because every child deserves to enter a new season feeling prepared, celebrated, and whole.

The Link: Translating Childhood Memories into Institutional Purpose
​That experience: the slow stride of shame to get free supplies, the feeling of being singled out for what my family couldn't afford, shaped how I view access. Needing help shouldn't cost a child their dignity.

The Call to Action
​This is why I founded The Summer Camp Project. We aren't just funding camp slots or handing out aid; we are blazing paths to possibility. When we give young people the freedom to choose their own paths, explore their passions, and step into new spaces on their own terms, we are offering them the same warmth and dignity that restored my own sense of belonging all those years ago.

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