A Letter to Camp Staff: The Problem with Trust – How Not to Deal with Campers

by Berke Chein, a former camper and current father who still remembers what mattered, and what hurt.

We just read Perek 5 of Pirkei Avos this past Shabbos, the chapter of numbers: ten utterances, ten miracles, ten tests.

But then it closes with something simple and lasting:

“Whoever possesses these three traits is among the students of Avraham Avinu. And whoever possesses the opposite three is among the students of Bilaam HaRasha.” (Avos 5:19)

A good eye. A humble spirit. A restrained soul. עין טובה. רוח נמוכה. נפש שפלה.

These aren’t just traits. They’re ways of holding power. Because not everyone who runs a bunk or a classroom is automatically a leader. And not every moment of discipline is an act of chinuch.

The Mishnah is talking about you. About anyone in a position of influence, whether you’re running the program or just got your first staff badge.

Because in camps across the world, day camp or overnight, boys or girls, there are kids between the ages of 7 and 15 (sometimes older) who act out, push back, get loud, shut down, test limits.

And there are staff between the ages of 16 and 23 (sometimes barely older than the campers themselves) who are suddenly in charge of those kids, often with minimal training, only a walkie-talkie and some intuition.

This letter is for all of you: camp directors, head staff, learning teachers, counselors, general staff.

Because I’ve been the camper on the other side. And most of you have been a camper too, certainly with your own memories, maybe your own missteps, and the staff who shaped how you turned out.

Those experiences, good or bad, are probably still with you. And they’ll shape how you show up now, when it’s your turn.

These two stories that shaped me? They couldn’t be more different.

1: Summer 2004 – Camp Pre-Mesivta: I was 13. Restless. Not especially engaged in learning. A little disruptive maybe. But the camp director, Rabbi Levi Borenstein, didn’t try to control me. He tried to connect.

He treated me like I mattered. He met me where I was, without lowering the standard, just raising the relationship. And it worked.

That summer, I received a Rebbe picture plaque: “Most Improved Learner”. Not for being the best. For becoming better than I had been.

That plaque stayed on my childhood bedroom wall all these years along with 6 other years of camp mementos. And recently, when visiting my parents, I sorted through all the old awards.

There were even a couple from Gan Yisrael for winning Learning Class Competition. But that wasn’t about me, that was about the collective..

I left them all behind. Except that one. I took it home.

2: Summer 2005 – YSP: I was 14. Not perfect. Still figuring myself out. One day in learning class, I apparently did something wrong. I don’t remember what it was. But the learning teacher, maybe trying to reassert control or save face, decided I needed to be put in my place.

On the grand trip to Six Flags, while the rest of camp ran to rollercoasters, I was told to sit alone at a picnic table in the parking lot and copy Perek 32 of Tanya. Not once, a Chazaka. Three times.
As if writing the Alter Rebbe’s deepest ideas about love would somehow give love to that person’s ego.
Instead, it created something else: resentment. It turned Tanya into a tool of shame. A weapon wrapped in holiness.

And for twenty years, I didn’t open it again. Not because I didn’t believe in it, but because someone tried to use it to fix me without first trying to love me.

Only recently, with a little more perspective and a calmer heart, I opened Tanya again, this time in a small chavrusa, learning it the way it was meant to be: with curiosity, with care, with people who don’t need to prove anything.

——
Three Ways to Lead Like Avraham (And Not Like Bilaam)

The Mishnah gives us a clear mirror. Three traits that build. Three that destroy.
When you’re working with kids, especially ones who misbehave, these aren’t just ideas. They’re lived choices. Daily.

1. עין טובה – A Good Eye
Try to see what’s really going on beneath the behavior.
Kids don’t always know how to ask for help, safety, or attention. Sometimes they act it out instead. A good eye doesn’t ignore misbehavior, it looks through it, to what might be underneath.
When Rabbi Borenstein saw a restless 13-year-old, he didn’t see disrespect. He saw opportunity. That’s leadership with a good eye.

2. רוח נמוכה – A Humble Spirit
It’s not about you.
When a camper challenges you, it’s easy to feel like your authority is being threatened. But humility means taking a breath. It means remembering: the moment is not about your ego. It’s about their future.
That Six Flags punishment? It didn’t help me. It protected someone’s pride. You might get obedience in the moment, but at the cost of connection.

3. נפש שפלה – A Restrained Soul
Don’t crave control.
Bilaam needed to dominate. Avraham led by allowing people to become.
Not every child will match the schedule or the energy you hoped for. But restraint means not trying to force their growth. It means not punishing them for your discomfort.
Sometimes the most powerful thing a staff member can do is sit next to a camper quietly and make them feel safe.

And one more thing, maybe the most important of all:
Never use Torah as a punishment.
Not Tanya. Not Chumash. Not Mishnayos.
Not copying lines. Not turning review into detention. Not using learning as a way to shame or control.
Torah is meant to be life-giving. Sweet. Personal.
If you turn it into a consequence, don’t be surprised when a child wants nothing to do with it later.

And the worst part is, the parents may be at home scratching their heads, wondering why their child suddenly resists learning, without realizing the damage that may have happened at camp.

One kid remembered a plaque. Another remembered a punishment.
I happened to be both.

And now, as a parent and former camper, I offer this to you:
The way you handle one “off” moment might not get printed in the camp newsletter, but it might get written on a child’s soul for the next twenty years.

To Rabbi Borenstein, who saw me in Camp Pre-Mesivta, thank you. You taught me that connection changes people more than control ever could.
That plaque didn’t just hang on my wall. It reminded me I could grow.
I think about that now, as a father. And I hope someone else gets that chance too.

Choose wisely.

Proud to be improving every day,
Berke Chein

——-

Postscript: One More Memory
There’s one more moment from that same summer in YSP I’ll never forget.

One night, just before lights out, a group of us were standing around in the hallway. Lots of the staff were flaming anti-Mishichists, and as teenagers sometimes do, we decided to get under their skin. So we started singing “Yechi.”

One staff member stormed over, his red face burning beneath his beard, and slapped me. Hard. Across the face. No warning. No words. Just a hit. I was shocked. And weirdly, proud. I wore that slap like a badge for years.

But looking back now, I wonder: What would have happened if I reported him? Would the leadership have silenced me? Would they have blamed me as the instigator? Would he have apologized?

I’ll never know. That moment long passed…

Today, hitting kids is basically unheard of. But harm hasn’t disappeared. Because it’s not just about physical abuse. Emotional abuse, like shaming, mocking, isolating, or humiliating, often lasts longer. And it’s harder to see.

So if you’re on staff, and you notice something that feels off, from a camper or fellow staff member: Don’t wait. Don’t rationalize. Don’t stay silent. You don’t need to confront the person directly. And honestly, you shouldn’t. If he’s a bully, let the adults deal with it..

But you do need to speak up, to someone you trust. A division head. A mashpia. A parent. A friend.

And if you’re in charge: a director, a head counselor, say something early in the summer.
Let your staff know they can come to you.
Let your campers know they can come to you.
That you’ll listen. That they won’t be punished or ignored.

Silence isn’t loyalty. It’s part of the problem.
And the kids in your care deserve better.

Wishing you all a meaningful, safe, and wonderful rest of your summer.
May the campers you guide today grow up remembering you as someone who made Torah feel like home.