Last week, I spent five days leading Oklahoma’s future leaders through team-building games, public policy debates, and an impromptu round of “Who’s Crawling Under My Stall?” Spoiler: it was a student asking if I was his mom. Not the mentorship moment I planned for, but I rolled with it.
This all happened at YLF, short for Youth Leadership Forum, long for “The magical place where sky high schoolers with disabilities become confident leaders and also learn how to defuse imaginary nuclear waste using rope and teamwork.”
Hosted at the University of Science and Arts of Oklahoma in Chickasha (home of the world’s largest leg lamp, because why not), YLF is a free, week-long summer camp funded by the Oklahoma Developmental Disabilities Council. Students from across the state come together for workshops, advocacy training, and life lessons, plus mild sunburns, emotional breakthroughs, and my failed attempt at owning a casino.
I first attended YLF as a yellow shirt, a young camper with a dream, a bad haircut, and an even worse understanding of skincare. Now I come back each summer as a staff member, or “grey shirt.” Some say it’s named after our uniform color. I say it’s because we age 15 years during the week and go home with at least three new grey hairs and a mild limp.
Every day at camp is packed with cleverly disguised learning. We play games like Toxic Waste (where teens pretend to be nuclear engineers), Chocolate River (where they bravely avoid imaginary lava), and the topsecret Raccoon Circles, which is a surprise game I’m not allowed to describe but let’s just say involves epic music, secrets, and a surprise pool noodle.
We break into small groups for deep conversations about leadership styles, self-advocacy, and what, exactly, last night’s cafeteria mystery meat was. (My working theory: failed science experiments from the university lab.)
One of our best days is Capitol Day, when students visit the Oklahoma State Capitol, meet lawmakers, and hold a mock session on the real House floor. We give them a real bill to spend the week researching and debating. There’s nothing quite like watching a teenager in Crocs passionately filibuster over phone rights in schools.
Then there’s The Game of YLiFe. Our low-budget, real-world simulation. Students earn income, pay expenses, get college degrees, buy cars, and visit booths run by actual professionals. There’s even a Lucky Star Casino booth… run by me.
It turns out it’s dangerously easy to get teenagers to blow money on gambling At the end, I reveal the casino is rigged, that I’m not on their side, and that going bankrupt gambling is not ideal. It’s a strong anti-gambling message. (Luckily there are almost no casinos in Oklahoma).
Friday night is the grand finale: formal dinner and dance. Everyone gets dressed up, and this year, my beautiful girlfriend Maci joined us. Watching her serve students with disabilities reminded me why I love her, then watching her ballroom dance with me reminded me I will never be on Dancing with the Stars.
Before the main event, we endured a etiquette class, which was taught by a lady who’s fancy enough that she has actually had dinner with Prince William. She taught us which fork to use for soup and felt the need to shame me for eating ten rolls.
Expectedly, Maci loved it. I, a man with the attention span of a goldfish, did not. She wants me to pass the salt to my right; Jokes on her, I don’t know my right from left. She says there is such a thing as too many rolls. I say that’s heresy.
Then came the talent show, hosted by me and my cohost, a yellow shirt who staged a surprise coup d’état mid-show and booted me off stage. It was a tough blow. My ego barely survived, but I’m recovering slowly one mirror glance at a time.
The night crescendoed with our legendary dance party, DJ’d by the incredible DJ Brown Gravy, who knows exactly how to get unsocial teens onto the dance floor. Think: Cha-Cha Slide, Cupid Shuffle, and YMCA. Nothing bonds people like doing the Macarena under flashing lights while the Thunder game plays on a giant projector in the background.
Hours past my 9 p.m. bedtime, the kids finally went to sleep and I got to enjoy my 4 hours of sleep before parent pick-up.
By Saturday, the campers are different. The shy, unsure students who arrived Sunday? Gone. In their place: confident young leaders who walk taller, laugh louder, and know they belong in the room. And they do.
I got to go home tired, slightly feral, and eating as many rolls as I wanted. (Like my God-Given right.)
And if you’re wondering where the next generation of changemakers is? They’re at YLF. Learning to advocate, listen, lead and occasionally practice their nuclear waste management skills.
As for me? I’ll be back next year, armed with rope,