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In the summer of 1960, after I was accepted as a freshman at the University of Georgia, I got a letter from UGA inviting me to participate with other selected students in something called Freshman Camp.

The university had just started a program wherein they chose 100 incoming students each year for indoctrina–  orientation before the start of fall quarter.

I was flattered to be invited, but Freshman Camp turned out to be a huge disappointment.

They herded us through three days of forgettable lectures and interminable social gatherings that required us to be polite and attentive in spite of wanting to scream. They even staged a talent show, participation in which, fortunately, was optional.

Thank God role-playing exercises had not been invented yet.

Overall, Freshman Camp was very political. The university said it selected “potential student leaders” to attend. But most of the kids who showed up were social-climbing toadies — the small town suck-ups, the future politicians. I had the feeling the University wanted it that way.

Why on earth was Rocky Smith chosen to join that bunch? Probably because on paper, I sounded interesting.

I was a native Georgian, the son of native-born parents. I had just spent three years living in Europe, and I graduated from a high school full of American kids living as military dependents in Germany.

I guess they needed a few wild cards to season their crop of toadies.

Maybe it’s just me, but I thought Freshman Camp was a major dud. I was relieved when it was over, and good riddance to it.

The best thing about it, except for putting it behind me, was that it made the real beginning of college all the more sane and enjoyable.

I’m sorry, but I’ve never been much for kumbaya moments.

Naturally, the University continues to conduct Freshman Camp today — or at any rate, a modern version thereof. I’m sure I wouldn’t recognize it. The concept seems to have been greatly enhanced.

Nowadays, staged under the umbrella name “Dawg Camp,” are four — count ’em, four — freshman gatherings each year.

There is Discovery Camp, a leadership retreat; Adventure Camp, a wilderness experience; Classic City Camp, a team-building exercise; and Fusion Camp, which dips its toe in the Athens music scene.

If you don’t believe me, read it for yourself here.

I’ll give you odds that at some point during those sessions, role-playing is involved.

Someone once said that in every organization, as the least competent members are identified, they are assigned to tasks where they can do the least harm.

I submit that Dawg Camp is a case of that principle at work.