“You’re Going to Bad Boy Camp”:
How MTV’s True Life wasted and misused an opportunity to give “struggling teens” a voice
By: Shain Neumeier
Even if a person knows little to nothing about the private youth residential treatment industry, the
title of MTV’s True Life’s latest episode, “I’m Being Sent Away by My Parents,” may very well
evoke some strong emotions – fear, sadness, anger, abandonment or even betrayal, to name a
few possibilities. This title would suggest that the episode would address and take seriously the
concerns, feelings and experiences of youth who are sent far from their homes to attend private
wilderness programs, therapeutic boarding schools, boot camps and other residential programs
for “troubled” or “struggling” teens. Instead, the fears of youth rights advocates surrounding this
portrayal of two such programs that would effectively stand in for an entire industry with a long
history of abuse and fraudulent treatment practices were confirmed as soon as the introductory
voiceover began.
True Life, which might be best described as a combination between a reality show and a series
of documentaries on young adult life, has a consistent format – a legitimate stylistic choice, but
one that by itself limits the amount and kind of information that an episode can provide on its
subject matter. Each episode follows two teenagers or young adults in dealing with the issue
presented in the episode’s title, whether it be “I Have an Embarrassing Medical Condition,” “I
Have a Fetish,” or, in this case, “I’m Being Sent Away by My Parents.” It opens with a brief
introduction which includes clips from later in the episode and a voiceover summarizing the
issue as it affects the two young people that the episode focuses on. From then on, though, there
are no more voiceovers or other explicit commentary by the makers of the show themselves,
and the show switches to telling the “story” by following the people it features around with a
camera and interviewing various people that it introduces throughout the episode. The end of the
episode will show how the two young people have resolved the central issue or closely related
ones, for better or worse.
In spite of this at least superficially hands-off approach, the makers of True Life made their
support of the use of wilderness programs, therapeutic boarding schools and other residential
programs as a means of addressing rebellious teenage behavior very clear, not only through the
episode’s introduction but through editing and “storytelling” choices made throughout the rest
of it. As mentioned earlier, the show’s voiceover sets the tone for the rest of the episode. “What
if you were causing so much trouble for your parents that they sent you to live far away from
home as a last resort to improve your troubling behavior?” it starts by asking the audience. It
ends with another question: “Will [the two teens featured in the episode] learn to tow the line,
or keep wreaking havoc?” The outright bias against these teenagers, their perspectives and
their behavior is further demonstrated by how the end of each commercial break is marked by
someone saying, “You’re going to bad boy camp.”
The episode follows Kyle, who is 14 years old and whose mother has sent him to a
Christian “no-nonsense boarding school” called Jubilee, and Spencer, a 16 year old sent by his
mother to the Anasazi Foundation wilderness program. Kyle is made to attend Jubilee because
he has been engaging in drug use, theft and other criminal activity. Meanwhile, Spencer’s family
sends him to Anasazi because his grief over the recent death of his father has caused him to
become sullen and apathetic. The show does not address whether and to what extent either boy
has received mental health treatment or other services and supports in their communities before
being sent off to their respective residential programs.
The show, in fact, does not cover a large number of things, which made it very hard to accurately
judge the quality of the programs. Some of this can be attributed to the medium and the format
of the show, in that the episode has slightly less than 50 minutes to tell two stories that occur
over a period of weeks or months. However, even within these constraints, there were questions
that the show could have and should have answered. For instance, what kind of therapy or drug
rehabilitation was Kyle receiving at Jubilee? How were the wilderness and survival aspects
of the Anasazi program used to address Spencer’s grief and resulting difficulties? What kind
of educational opportunities did either boy have access to in their respective programs? What,
even, was the day-to-day routine at these programs? Without knowing the answers to these
and other questions, it was hard to tell if either or both of these programs were one of those
schools – the kind which routinely abuse and neglect the children in their care in the name of
behavior modification or even therapy – or one of the exemplary and truly therapeutic residential
programs that many parents and a fair number of program alumni say exist.
A lot of what is shown, and how it was shown, actually was problematic or carried unfortunate
implications. For instance, from what is shown on screen, the extent of Spencer’s rebellious,
unmanageable behavior seems to be that he was easily annoyed with his mother, unmotivated
when it comes to school, and unwilling to play with his little brother. These are normal, or at
least common, teenage behaviors even for people who are not reeling from the recent death of a
beloved parent. The show does not, and really cannot, effectively make these out to be behaviors
requiring a “last resort” approach. On the other hand, the show does not in any way elaborate
on a scene where Spencer tells his friend that this world is “not a good place to live in anymore”
– language that quite clearly indicates depression or something like it – in favor of focusing
on how his “confrontational attitude” is hurting the adults around him. This is reflected in the
scene where Spencer reunites with his mother at the end of his time in the Anasazi Foundation
program. Spencer’s counselor, in talking with them both, asks Spencer whether he has anything
to say to his mother regarding how he was acting before he attended the program, and in
response to this, Spencer apologizes to her for what he said to her before he left. While the fact
that he made amends for the things he feels he should is all well and good, this was noticeably
one-sided, at least on screen. This leaves the audience to wonder whether it was the counselor,
the filmmakers or both who did not think that the mother should have at least been asked the
same question.
It is obvious from the beginning that Kyle’s behavioral problems, unlike Spencer’s, go
well beyond normal teenage surliness. Still, the show itself makes it clear through Kyle’s
introduction that he is a product of a broken home – complete with an abusive father, an
unpleasant divorce and a brother who also engages in drug use and criminal activity – rather than
its cause. There is even footage to imply that some of his problems may result from serious self-
esteem issues, with Kyle speculating with resignation in his voice that his mother is “happy…
[she’s] gonna get rid of this little shit bag who’s stealing [her] jewelry” when he is accepted into
Jubilee. The audience is left to wonder why a Christian boarding school would more effectively
address these various issues than would a therapist, a support group or any number of other
community resources, or whether Kyle’s mother even considered these options before enrolling
him at Jubilee, as the show does not ask or answer these questions.
To someone who is familiar with the practices of abusive residential programs for youth,
Jubilee’s program raises several red flags just by what is shown in the episode. It makes use
of a level system, giving students whose behavior it approves of special status that comes
with enhanced privileges (such as larger rooms) and supervisory authority over other, lower-
level students. Also, as the show acknowledges and another student tells the audience in an
explanation riddled with program-speak, the punishments for misbehavior can be serious. If
you get a “write-up,” you can be given “consequences,” which include “running five hills”
(being made to run up and down a steep hill next to the school five times), or, if you fail to run
your hills and the extra hills added on as consequences, you can be placed on “room restriction”
or “meal restriction.” Finally, Kyle’s phone calls with his mother – which he is only allowed
to make after some indeterminate length of time spent at the program – are monitored by a staff
member who is sitting in the room listening to the call on speakerphone. The way in and extent
to which Jubilee makes use of the aforementioned practices is unclear, but in light of how all of
them – level systems, strenuous exercise as punishment, food-based punishments, seclusion and
restricted access to one’s family – have been used by various residential programs to horrifically
abusive effect, they provide legitimate cause for suspicion and concern on the part of youth,
families and viewers alike. Statements by the staff that Kyle’s refusing to run hills or otherwise
do as he is told is just making things harder on himself, as well as a warning by an upper-level
student during a pre-admission tour that Kyle’s stay at Jubilee would go very slowly if he tried to
fight the program, did nothing to alleviate this sense of unease.
Despite these warning signs, the show portrays Kyle’s belief that Jubilee is “like a jail for
kids” as unfounded, and his resistance to its program as wrongheaded. On at least two separate
occasions, the show cuts directly between sound or video clips in which Kyle talks about how
much he dislikes the program and ones in which he acts out and then complains when he gets
punished, inviting the audience to dismiss his complaints as unjustified or exaggerated because
of his behavior. Because of this, there is no way for a viewer to know whether the program’s
expectations and practices are really as reasonable as the show implies, or if editing (or for that
matter, the presence of the camera) has considerably softened them.
Perhaps the most troubling aspect of the episode was the ending, and all the implications it
carried. Spencer, who, according to the show, came to the conclusion to give the wilderness
program a chance and work towards starting a new life after one hour of meditation near the
top of a mountain, reunites with his family at the end of the wilderness program, and goes on to
attend family therapy with his mother after returning home (the show provided no explanation as
to why no one thought to try family or other therapy before using the “last resort” of residential
treatment). Kyle, on the other hand, continued to dislike and resist the program at Jubilee,
and actively tried to get expelled. When he finally succeeded in getting sent home, he was
shown to have been convicted of malicious mischief for vandalism and charged with possession
of drug paraphernalia and assault soon after, and eventually sent to a boy’s ranch similar to
Jubilee. While all of this is true, the way in which it was presented suggested that Spencer’s
completion of the wilderness program and Kyle’s expulsion from the boarding school were the
sole causes of their respective outcomes. This conclusion is just not supported by the other
information presented in the episode, where the types and severity of the two boys’ problems
were so different, where Spencer had apparently grown up with a more stable home life than had
Kyle, and where there is no indication that Kyle received any sort of counseling or support in the
community after returning home, family or otherwise.
Furthermore, the assumption underlying this message, namely that the measure of whether
residential programs are appropriate for youth is how successful they are in curbing aberrant or
just simply annoying teenage behavior, is similarly flawed. It ignores the negative and often
traumatizing effects that a treatment philosophy based on “tough love,” and for that matter
residential treatment itself, can have on youth. In fact, it ignores the interests of youth almost
entirely, placing their interests in freedom, security, continued inclusion in their communities,
and even effective treatment second to adult expectations regarding everything from their
conduct down to their demeanor. The existence of the most extreme residential behavioral
modification programs for youth serves as proof of exactly how dangerous this assumption can
be when allowed to go as unexamined as it was in this episode.
One can’t expect a show like True Life, with its reality TV-style format and its focus on
individual stories and circumstances, to provide an in-depth, comprehensive exposé of the
so-called “troubled teen industry” and its practices. However, that doesn’t excuse it from all
responsibility in how it frames and then addresses the issues surrounding residential treatment
for youth. In the end, the creators of the show chose to portray Spencer’s grief over his father’s
death as rebellious and disrespectful behavior. They chose to edit the clips of Kyle’s stay at
Jubilee in such a way as to undermine the largely unspecified but quite possibly legitimate
complaints he had about the program. They chose to skim over aspects of the programs that
raised red flags. Finally, they chose to end the episode on the note that these programs, and the
behavioral changes that ostensibly result from participating in them, make all the difference
between extremely positive and extremely negative outcomes for youth with family, mental
health and behavioral issues. True Life’s “I’m Being Sent Away by My Parents” could have
given a voice to the concerns and experiences of youth sent to residential programs, whose own
voices at this point have largely gone unheard or been dismissed. It could have even given
a (truly) balanced portrayal of the perspectives of parents, program staff and youth. In part
because of these missed opportunities, it is disappointing that the show instead reinforced ideas
about teenagers, discipline and institution-based care that are already far too widely held, go far
too unexamined and, as a result, are far too damaging to many youth who could have benefited
from less punishment and more effective support than is provided at “last resort” residential
programs.
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