The following appeared in a computer magazine in Mr. Dvorak's
column:


 Dear Mr. Dvorak:

 Ann Landers wouldn't print this. I have nowhere else to turn.
 I have to get the word out. Warn other parents. I must be
 rambling on. Let me try and explain. It's about my son, Billy.
 He's always been a good, normal ten year old boy. Well, last
 spring we sat down after dinner to select a summercamp for
 Billy. We sorted through the camp brochures. There were usual
 camps with swimming, canoeing, games, singing by the campfire
 -- you know. There were sports camps and specialty camps for
 weight reduction, music, military camps and camps that
 specialized in Tibetan knot tying. I tried to talk him into
 Camp Winnepoopoo. It's where he went last year (He made an
 adorable picture out of painted pinto beans and macaroni).
 Billy pulled a brochure out of his pocket. It was for a
 COMPUTER CAMP!  We should have put our foot down right there,
 if only we had known. He left three weeks ago. I don't know
 what's happened. I can't explain it. See for yourself. These
 are some of my little Billy's letters.


 Dear Mom,

 The kids are dorky nerds. The food stinks. The computers are
 the only good part. We're learning how to program. Late at
 night is the best time to program, so they let us stay up.

 Love, Billy


 Dear Mom,

 Camp is O.K.  Last night we had pizza in the middle of the
 night. We all get to choose what we want to drink. I drink
 Classic Coke. By the way, can you make Szechuan food? I'm
 getting used to it now. Gotta go, it's time for flowchart
 class.

 Love, Billy

 P.S. This is written on a wordprocessor. Pretty swell, huh?
 It's spellchecked too.


 Dear Mom,

 Don't worry. We do regular camp stuff. We told ghost stories
 by the glow of the green computer screens. It was real neat.
 I don't have much of a tan 'cause we don't go outside very often.
 You can't see the screen in the sunlight anyway. That wimp camp
 I went to last year fed us weird food too. Lay off, Mom. I'm okay,
 really.

 Love, Billy


 Dear Mom,

 I'm fine. I'm sleeping enough. I'm eating enough. This is the
 best camp ever. We scared the counselor with some phony worm
 code. It was real funny. He got mad and yelled. Frederick says
 it's okay. Can you send more money? I spent mine on a pocket
 protector and a box of blank diskettes. I've got to chip in on
 the phone bill. Did you know that you can talk to people on a
 computer? Give my regards to Dad.


 Love, Billy


 Dear Mother,

 Forget the money for the telephone. We've got a way to not pay.
 Sorry I haven't written. I've been learning a lot. I'm real good at
 getting onto any computer in the country. It's really easy! I got
 into the university's in less than fifteen minutes. Frederick did
 it in five, he's going to show me how. Frederick is my bunk partner.
 He's really smart. He says that I shouldn't call myself Billy anymore.
 So, I'm not.

 Signed, William


 Dear Mother,

 How nice of you to come up on Parents Day.  Why'd you get so
 upset? I haven't gained that much weight. The glasses aren't real.
 Everybody wears them. I was trying to fit in. Believe me, the tape
 on them is cool. I thought that you'd be proud of my program.
 After all, I've made some money on it. A publisher is sending a
 check for $30,000. Anyway, I've paid for the next six weeks of
 camp. I won't be home until late August.

 Regards, William


 Mother,

 Stop treating me like a child. True -- physically I am only
 ten years old. It was silly of you to try to kidnap me. Do not
 try again. Remember, I can make your life miserable (i.e. - the
 bank, credit bureau, and government computers). I am not kidding.
 O.K.? I won't write again and this is your only warning. The emotions
 of this interpersonal communication drain me.

 Sincerely, William


 See what I mean? It's been two weeks since I've heard from my little
 boy. What can I do, Mr.Dvorak?  I know that it's probably too late
 to save my little Billy.  But, if by printing these letters you can
 save JUST ONE CHILD from a life of programming, please, I beg of you
 to do so. Thank you very much.

 Sally Gates, Concerned Parent