כ״ח אייר ה׳תשפ״ה | May 25, 2025
My Traumatic Camp Experience Made Me More Sensitive
From the Anash.org Inbox: I was eight. It was camp. And I did something that was odd enough that the boys found out, and they laughed. Not just laughed — they reveled in it. And one day, my counselor called me over and said, “You know why you did this? You’re weird. Just weird.”
From the Anash.org Inbox: I was eight. It was camp. And I did something that was odd enough that the boys found out, and they laughed. Not just laughed — they reveled in it. And one day, my counselor called me over and said, “You know why you did this? You’re weird. Just weird.”
By a Father
Every year, when my children go off to camp, I tell them something simple I learned: be kind to the ones who stand out. The awkward ones, the quiet ones, the ones who can’t catch a ball or don’t speak the lingo of the city kids. Be kind to them. I tell them this not as a sermon but as a confession. Because once, I was one of those children.
I was eight. It was camp. And I did something that was odd enough that the boys found out, and they laughed. Not just laughed — they reveled in it. And one day, my counselor, a young man with a whistle around his neck and a world of authority in his voice, called me over and said, “You know why you did this? You’re weird. Just weird.”
It branded me.
We just recently celebrated Pesach Sheni. A quiet holiday with a thunderous message: It’s never too late. That’s what the Rebbe taught. If you were supposed to say something to someone and didn’t — say it now. Don’t let time trick you into silence. Weeks, months, years — even decades — they don’t mean what you think. The door remains open.
Years later, I was a counselor myself. There was a boy — his father had tried to kill his mother. This poor child had seen things no child should. We, the staff, tried to make room for him. We failed. We didn’t know how. One day, he broke down, right in front of us, and I carried the weight of that for years. Nearly a decade later, I tracked him down and apologized. He said, “You couldn’t have figured me out. No one could.” And I believed him. But I think the only reason I tried — the only reason I noticed — was because I had once been the boy no one could figure out.
That’s what Pesach Sheni is. Chesed Sheb’hod. It’s the kindness embedded in submission — not surrender, but the humility of not knowing and yet believing in the kindness that will come. Of being in the dark and trusting there’s meaning in it. That there’s a reason the One Above placed you where He did. Even if you don’t understand it. Especially then.
I remember another summer, another camp. I must have been ten. First night of camp, the head counselor gets up — he’s booming, terrifying — laying down the law. “When I raise my finger,” he says, “everyone raises their hand.” He lifts a finger, I raise my hand — apparently not high enough. He shouts, “Out of the shul!”
I’d never been thrown out of a shul before. I was humiliated. Later, he came over and said, “You looked cool. I thought you could handle it.” I couldn’t. I wasn’t cool. I was cracked porcelain, trying to pass for steel.
But here’s what it gave me: eyes to see the invisible children. The gifted ones who don’t fit. The sensitive ones who speak in questions. The brilliant, misunderstood souls who get punished for being exceptional. Perhaps this is the energy that has inspired me to try to educate and care for sensitive children — not mold them, but honor them. Because we know they’re not broken — they’re rare.
That summer, I asked a kitchen staff member for sugar. “May I have sugar please?” I said. He looked at me oddly. “What did you say? Why do you say ‘May I have sugar please’? No one says ‘please.’ Not the kids, not the staff.” It shocked me. But it made sense. In many camps and institutions, there’s an unspoken hierarchy — staff above campers, adults above children, kitchen staff beneath all. An ugly line between “us” and “them.”
I remember 1986. Two boys in my bunk. Both are already in heaven, עליהם השלום. One of them — he was overweight — was forced to run laps around the baseball field at midnight. The counselor mocked him. Humiliated him. I see his face when he cried. That counselor, I think, was forgiven by my friend — but something was taken from him. A piece of innocence. A small, sacred piece.
My children, thank G-d, didn’t see that kind of cruelty. It doesn’t happen in the same way. Not directly. But I know it still happens. The head staff may not mean harm — but the children feel it. The hierarchy. The condescension. The sense that some belong, and some only survive.
If I could speak to that counselor from 40 years ago, I would say: “Yes, I was weird. But it’s okay to be weird. Because the weird ones learn to see the pain in others. And maybe that’s what I was meant to become — someone who sees.”
Dear Parents:
Don’t assume your children understand. Talk to them about the campers who seem different from them.
Dear Camp Counselors and Directors:
Resist the fight-or-flight narrative. Be intentional in creating an inclusive environment where everyone feels valued.
Together, we can ensure that every child knows they are seen, heard, and cherished!
COMMENTS
This is one of the most important articles ever!
So critical to look out for everyone, and especially those that don’t fit the mold! It can be life saving, definitely making a huge difference in kids, people’s lives!
This is so sad to read, but it’s a must read
This is a most important issue. Thank you for posting it.
Not as one who struggled with this when young, but as one who sees how this is a real problem for our children, as I prepare to send my children off to camp.
From my experience, there where those staff that would care for the children. But then there were those who seemed more interested in other matters, the children becoming a distraction at best or a bother. It then makes sense that such a staff member would stand with the children who are “cool” because the staff member hopes the cool boy will then influence his friends to listen to the staff member, even if it means another child may be hurt.
Bottom line, it seems it would take the camp directors and head staff to highlight the importance of especially looking out for the boys who are not keeping up with the others
The staff, including head staff are very young and inexperienced. Under such conditions it is very easy for staff to make major mistakes. There needs to be more quality staff, married rebbe’s/ mashpiam in camp that can offer guidance.
%100
I could fill many pages with these kind of experiences.
In camp, in 770, being a very quiet, sensitive bochur, trying to get a place for hakafos, when all of the sudden I was pushed so hard ,and told that I didn’t belong there.
That stayed with me even today. BH , I could look back , and see things differently in hindsight, but I still feel the hurt, the shame and humiliation.
But then, me being in a position of authority, concellor, teacher, although I tried to be always in understanding, and non judgemental, I didn’t always succeed!!
All I can say, is go out of your way to be understanding and caring,
On the other hand, be understanding if you were mistreated!!
Moshiach now!!
I was bullied when I was in Mesivta for just a few weeks and it left me suffering from severe post trauma (+depression) for the next 4-5 years. At one stage, I even felt suicidal.
I wish there was more awareness about bullying and its negative effects in Chabad communities.
I found from my experiences that bullying is highly misunderstood by kids, parents, and teachers.
Thank you again for posting.
I would suggest as a first step the head counselor on the first day of camp when he lays down the rules he should not have such a mean expression and maybe even smile unfortunately that might work better
I was just a 9-year-old boy who immigrated to New York from Russia in mid 1970s. My parents were persuaded by Russian Chabad shluchim from F.R.E.E. organization in NY to send me to Gan Yisroel in Parksville NY. I did not speak a word of English, nor did I know anything about Yiddishleit. I went to camp and on the first day inside a bunk I was bullied and assaulted by our very own “Gezha” bunk mates. There were many against one! They laughed and kicked me and said, “go back to Russia!”. You can imagine how terrible I felt! However, I do remember one Rubashkin boy, who stood up for me and tried to cool them down.
I cried bitterly on the phone to my parents to please take me home. Apparently my counselors convince my parents that I was just home sick, and they convinced me to stay longer.
I just want to share this horrible experience with all the parents so they can retell this to their kids and teens and instill sensitivity and Ahavas Yisroel to every child. Remember the first impression counts!
Ty for this article.
I remember when I was a 10-year-old camper 50 years ago, there was a counselor who was physically abusive to one particular ‘different’ camper, subjecting him to cruel punishments and humiliations. From my perspective then, it appeared that the counselor’s actions were known to all and at best, ignored (if not implicitly condoned) by head staff.
I hope that this would never fly today!
I believe that before camp begins, staff should be informed in a matter-of-fact manner that there could be consequences – legal or otherwise – to their bad actions. When staff know that they could suffer real punishment for their actions and that the camp will work with the law and not stand by an abusive staff member, at least that fact alone could act as a strong deterrent to staff misbehaviour.
Back when I was a staff member Tzivos Hashem (Rabbi Michoel Albekurk) would arrange Staff Week a series of staff training workshops for all camps to train their staff in how to be a good counselor, motivating the kids with respect and sensitivity. I’m hoping something like this still goes on in most camps. I know Rabbi Zalmy Kudan of California does staff training workshops currently. Perhaps concerned parents should be asking their camp directors how their staff are trained. If the answer is they are not, urge them to do something about that, summer is around the corner!
Unfortunately, the entire camp atmosphere is not conducive for menthclichkeit. They celebrate vildkeit and wackiness. In such an environment, it’s hard to expect proper behavior.
A fundamental discussion should be had about the goals of camp, how they are being achieved, and if there’s a better way to achieve them. The camp model was created many decades ago for a different kind of crowd.
The Rebbe famously bemoaned the summer break and called for year round learning. That could be done in a camp setting, but I don’t see any effort to do so (aside from perhaps Tzirei Hatemimim).
We need to stop just repeating the same system and instead think about what the Rebbe meant and what is educationally best for normal Lubavitch children.