A letter from our founder
Basecamp started with one bored ten-year-old
Before it was a program, it was a mom and educator watching her curious son check out of school — and one evening that changed what she thought children needed.
D
Deepa Narula
Founder, Basecamp
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9 min read
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July 2026
Hey,
I wasn’t planning on writing a founder letter. I’ve always felt that the stories behind places usually begin long before the place itself exists.
They begin with small moments that don’t seem important at the time. For me, Basecamp started with my son, Raam.
He’s ten years old. He wants to be a soccer player when he grows up. He’s curious, outgoing, and somehow manages to make friends wherever he goes.
If we’re on vacation, there’s a good chance he’ll come back and tell me about someone he met at the pool, or a conversation he had with a complete stranger.
I love that about him.
But I also know what it feels like to stand outside your child’s room and say: “Five more minutes, and then we’re doing homework.”
And then five minutes somehow becomes ten.
Ten becomes twenty.
Before long, you’re competing with screens and YouTube, trying to pull your child’s attention away from something that was designed to keep it.
Sometimes I’d find myself becoming frustrated, and later sitting there wondering whether I was pushing too much, or not enough. I think many parents quietly carry those thoughts.
Because parenting feels strange sometimes. We’re trying to protect childhood while also preparing our children for the future — and some days it feels like you’re trying to do both at the same time.
Then, every once in a while, something unexpected would happen. Raam would come home excited about a question from school, a project, or an idea he’d suddenly become fascinated by.
Once, he became so interested in a math challenge that he refused to go to bed until he figured it out. Another time, he spent an entire evening researching trading posts and settlements in Canada.
And I would see a completely different child.
Hours would pass.
No reminders.
No pushing.
He was just… there.
Completely absorbed in what he was doing. I remember sitting there watching him and thinking: where did this child come from?
And then it hit me.
The moment learning felt meaningful to him — the moment it connected with him — I saw a completely different child emerge. That thought stayed with me. Because I started noticing something else, too: he wasn’t the same child every day either.
Sometimes he wanted challenge.
Sometimes he needed encouragement.
Sometimes he simply needed space.
And I kept thinking: if children are all so different, maybe learning should make room for that too.
Then I realized I wasn’t only thinking about academics anymore.
Because when I watched him become completely absorbed in something, I wasn’t just seeing better work. I was seeing confidence and curiosity, and a kind of persistence I hadn’t noticed before. I was seeing him become more comfortable sharing ideas and trusting himself.
I kept thinking: these are the moments children remember long after they forget what was on a test.
Somewhere along the way, I found myself thinking that I didn’t want these years to become only about homework, grades, and getting through the next assignment. I wanted to protect the parts of childhood that make children who they are.
And somewhere along the way, those thoughts slowly became Basecamp.
Not because children need more school. But because I wanted children to have a place where they feel seen.
A place where curiosity is protected.
A place where confidence, communication, and life skills grow alongside academics.
A place that meets children where they are — and helps them become more of who they already are.
I built Basecamp as an educator. But more importantly, I built it as a parent.
Deepa narula
Educator & Founder, Basecamp Schools