I recently completed my 30th year of summer camp. Since the late 1980s, bar a couple of years of travelling and a couple more of childbearing, my every summer has been spent with Noam first as a madrichah (leader), then as a rosh (head) movement worker, youth director, head of welfare and now as main “adult on site”.

Both my kids were raised on summer camps, attending as my sidekicks since they were babies, and are now transitioning into their own leadership roles within the movement.

I feel confident to say that, certainly within the UK Jewish community, few people know more about the inner workings of youth movement summer camps than I do.

In order to understand why things go wrong on summer camps, first we have to understand why they are the most precious resource our community has and why at all costs they must be loved, protected and supported in order to make sure this this community is able to continue to flourish and go from strength to strength.

That young Jews in 2023 want to come together as a community, living in basic conditions, learning, discussing, arguing, disagreeing, celebrating and struggling with their Jewish identity and the Jewish world, is an enormous credit to the work the youth movements do every day.

It’s not an understatement to say that lives are changed on a regular basis and in some cases lives are saved.

This year alone, my two weeks was spent between scrubbing burnt pans and helping young people through loss and bereavement. It’s been spent helping madrichim (age 17-21) help their chanichim (ages 9-15) negotiate behaviour issues and life events that many of them are also going through. I have given pep talks, mopped up tears and helped leaders take difficult decisions.

I’ve taken children to A and E after football injury and stayed up late into the night talking to young people about their life choices. I’ve helped young leaders, themselves in their late teens and 20s, develop themselves as mentors, teachers and role models and,hopefully in some small way I’ve contributed to the incredible endeavour that youth movement summer camps can be.

When this goes right, this project is one of the most phenomenal and beautiful experiences we can offer our kids and one from which our adult community could learn a great deal.

What do our movements need to do to make sure that the camps play out in the way they’re supposed to and that young people grow and develop their lifelong Jewish identities, forged in an environment of learning, love and support?

They do not need inspections. Certainly not in the way Pikuach inspects our Jewish schools. I have experienced several Pikuach and Ofsted inspections, both as a senior leader at JCoSS and as chair of governors at Clore Shalom primary school.

While these inspections may have a place in the formal educational and even the commercial camp sector, the level of stress, pressure and undue worry they create is utterly inappropriate for the youth movement context. To have inspectors come into a camp, even those who know and understand camps and have their own experience in the movement world, can only be a deeply stressful experience for those being inspected. At best, only a partially accurate picture of the camp would emerge.

So what do our camps need to run smoothly and professionally, so that that problems are ironed out and they are supported in their perfect imperfection?

How can we embrace the fact that these camps are in themselves an enormous learning experience and not a finished product?

There is no shortcut to helping camps which are experiencing problems or issues. It requires the genuine and selfless help of people who are prepared to roll their sleeves up and give up two to three weeks of their lives to get stuck into bringing whatever professional or personal experience and expertise they are able to, while working with those who ultimately take responsibility for the camp and the community it creates.

It’s hard work to be an adult supporting a youth movement camp. It’s frustrating at times and requires humility, decisiveness, communication and relationship- building skills along with a deep love and respect for the project.

It needs a good understanding that the beauty of these camps often lies in their imperfections and the parameters in which you can add value as well as provide a safety net, all the while remembering it is your privilege to be there, not their privilege to have you. I am honoured to be part of a small group of people who do this in the summers. We support each other and learn from each other’s experiences. But it’s hard and messy and an exhausting and often thankless role.

We need to be ready to jump from mental health crises to food waste management as the situation dictates, and to be able to embed deeply into the camp in order to become a trusted adviser, while always remembering that it is their camp, not yours.

We have to give up time and income to be able to do this, and this has to come from a place of love and deep belief in what this community’s potential is.

I know more of these people exist in our community. Many in senior lay and professional positions and many more who love and care for our movements. It’s a big ask.

Time off is precious and lure of the sun lounger or the comfort of a quiet office are a strong pull. But if we want to avoid the terrible press and broken spirits when things go wrong, then we, who have something to give, need to be able to be generous with our time, our love and our support; and to help to build from within, and not —ever — to inspect from outside.