During my year teaching boarding school, many amazing things happened. One of them was seeing kids who had never left the city discover an entirely new kind of world.

The school was set in the heart of the Berkshires, on an old family estate of around a hundred acres. The girls' dorm--where we lived--was an old gate house at the entrance to the drive. The main house was up the drive, and housed more girls' dorms in the upper stories. From the patio in front of the main house, you could look out for miles, and count blue ridge after blue ridge. Down the slope was the boys' dorm, an old converted barn. The classroom buildings were few and makeshift, heated none too well in winter time by wood-burning stoves that the students fed; one classroom was in what was once a forge. The campus bordered on woods and cow pasture. Deer were common, and sometimes you would see foxes and rabbits and hawks and snakes. A few years before our time, there was a bear. Once all the cows got loose and found their way to our yard, where they looked into the windows while chewing their cud.

This was more than mere scenery for the city kids. Some did not recognize the deer as deer when they first saw them. Some were spooked by the night quiet--they couldn't sleep without the sound of city traffic coming through the window. But they acclimated, as kids do--learning to chop wood, make snowmen, hike trails, garden, and all that good stuff. And good things followed.

A sense of possibility arose, along with a willingness to try things that were not available--and would not have been cool--to try back home. Some took up painting. Some took up dance. Some learned to ride unicycles. Some fell for Shakespeare--reading the sonnets for fun, in their spare time. Their imaginations opened up in unique and vital ways. And, as I've written here before, they all went on to college.

The point is that kids need new experiences. And if they are bound to the city by poverty and lack of opportunity, they need chances to see what else is out there. They need fresh air, they need trees and grass and quiet, and they need to be able to look out on a horizon that extends further than the apartment building across the street.

All of this is by way of drawing your attention to the Fresh Air Fund, a nonprofit that since 1877 has been helping inner city New York kids travel to the countryside during their summer break. About 10,000 kids get to do this every year--but it all depends on the generosity of families willing to be hosts.

Two hundred kids still need to be placed for this summer--and placement needs to happen this week. If you are willing to be a host--or if you know someone who is, find out how to help here.