Kerem's Anticipation Part 1

The moment I left camp after my Maalot summer I was ready to be in Kerem. During that drive home, I pulled a sharpie out of my bag and wrote “Yoni Silverman, Kerem 2004” on one of my plastic shelves.[1] I looked at it for a moment and realized how excited I was for June 27, 2004.[2] I, Yoni Silverman, was going to be a member of Kerem. This was the dream of my lifetime, all 15 years of it. And because of this, the evening after the annual Yavneh reunion on the Thanksgiving weekend following Maalot, I printed out 210 squares on 20 sheets of paper and taped them to my wall at home, each square representing one day leading up to my Kerem summer. For the previous seven years I had looked up to the Kerem boys and girls and was jealous that they had achieved Kerem status. I wanted it so bad, and when it happened, I knew it would be the best moment of my life.

This feeling may seem extreme from a broad perspective, but in a camp context, it is a fairly common sentiment. The way that Camp Yavneh is organized and managed makes it is almost impossible not to have these feelings coming into Kerem summer. Everything builds up to Kerem; Kerem kids become the stars: they are granted many more privileges than any other aydah, they are permitted to cover the younger bunks and plan peulot, and they have the opportunity to set themselves apart in events like Zimriyah, the Kerem play and of course the behemoth of the all, Maccabiah. Kerem is supposed to rule the roost in energy, spirit, creativity and originality. In fact, it is an unspoken rule at camp that Maalot should not rival Kerem in camp leadership, so as to allow the oldest aydah to appear, and ultimately be, as the decisive leaders. It is Kerem’s camp and everyone else follows, and as a camper from Gurim to Maalot, you know that, and you want in. Kerem is supposed to be the greatest summer of them all, and no matter what, everyone believes that this is the Truth, with a Captial T.

Here is the problem with this attitude. Even before camp begins the potential for the summer is set at infinity. It is impossible to live up to these expectations. Kerem is made out to be like the Garden of Eden. But we all know, when you are in Kerem, you are still in camp. You still have to wake up at 7 most mornings. You still have to attend mifkad and you still have to follow a strictly set programming schedule all day. You still have to sit through meetings and, worst of all, you still have an earlier curfew than you think you deserve.[3] And this is just talking about the daily grind of the day.

Going into this previous summer, I was terrified of this expectation. I knew, based on what my campers were saying to me, and comments they were writing on each other’s Facebook walls, that it was impossible for summer to be anything short of incredible. And I had good reason to be nervous.  My experience as a Kerem counselor in 2007 and my observations of Kerem ‘08 and Kerem ‘09 revealed to me that the first few weeks of camp can easily be a bust. I heard comments of frustration, regret, and an overall sense that Kerem summer is definitely not what is hyped up to be.

During the months leading up to summer, I got into the habit of emailing my kids once every other week.  In these emails I would update them on what was going on in my life, goings-on at camp, and things they should expect before and during the summer. In every email I would also ask a question to elicit responses and encourage my campers to think critically about a particular topic. Without saying anything of my ‘fear’ about overhype, I asked them this question on April 18^th, 2010: “Knowing that things might not go as planned or hoped, should we spend time and effort thinking about if things go wrong? What happens if you do feel that sense of disappointment? How do you react?” Here are two campers responses (with a little bit of editing for the sake of coherence).

“I really don't think we should think about it like that. Of course we all know that Kerem summer, while it will be amazing, probably will not turn out 100% perfect. But, I think that while we all know that in the back of our heads the summer might be perfect, when we think of camp during the year we have to think of camp as a "perfect place". I think for a lot of people its what they need during the year, something they can think of when school is stressful or parents are annoying or home is just not fun. They need to be able to think of camp as a perfect place where everything is going to be ok, and if we think of it as anything but that, it ruins camp a little for us…”

“I hope people got the intent of the message you were trying to convey for them. Because for a while it seemed like you were saying the summer was going to suck.  But what I think you are saying is kind of like, a reality check.  Kerem as a whole is putting this whole summer on a pedestal.  And everyone has very high expectations.  And in reality not every person’s dreams and hopes for this summer can be met.  We have to make the best with what we have.  We have to make the best with what is thrown at us and not spend too much time being disappointed with things that might go wrong. But be excited for the things that will go right. Kerem, there are a millions things that can go bad, but there is only one future, one set of events that will be great, which we should be looking forward to.” 

These were two optimist views expressed in very different ways. The first one highlighted the necessity of putting camp on a pedestal, and how important that is for getting through the year.The second diminished the possibility of problems that the summer might bring and instead emphasized that no matter what the course of events will be, the summer will be great. 

These responses certainly did not mitigate my anguish about my campers’ sky-high expectations; they simply made me realize that it was up to my staff and me to ensure that the summer would be great. I did not want to fall into the trap that previous Kerems had fallen into, and because of that, I needed to devise a strategy to guarantee success. Not many people have had the opportunity to be in Kerem or live next door to Kerem for 6 years in a row,[4] and I knew I needed to figure out where other Kerems had failed, learn from their mistakes, and work out a solution. What did I do? What was my plan?

---

[1] When I was a camper, I really disliked the stigma that boys were ‘girly’ if they brought plastic shelves to camp. The two shelves and a cubby that camp provides is really not a lot of space, especially if you follow the packing list, as I used to do.

[2] I probably didn’t know the date at the time, but I certainly remember that date now. Also, coincidently, it was the same day that my kids started camp this summer too.

[3] Yes, as much as most newcomers to Kerem don’t believe it, there is a curfew.

[4] Excluding my Naaleh summer of course.

Help me fill out this spreadsheet

I need your help.

I have started a public spreadsheet about Camp Yavneh Traditions. It would be great if you could hell me fill it out. Feel free to write and say anything you think about camp, and if you think we need a whole new column, please make it. It would definitely be great if you don't delete anything though, even though if you don't think its actually a tradition. Thanks--


https://spreadsheets.google.com/ccc?key=tL1LSQYGVvRc_8MoOODCFZg&hl=en&authkey=CJ2nyNkK#gid=0

Secrets Are No Fun.

Why do we keep secrets at camp and why is Maccabiah the biggest secret of them all?

Maccabiah breakout is one of the most highly anticipated events at camp, not just because everyone craves a good, honest Color War, but largely because of the heap of secrets that becomes public knowledge just minutes after break out. The team songs are revealed, the cheers are taught, the rekah and tekes are distributed, and the mascots are proudly presented. However, pre-breakout, Maccabiah is a mass of secrets, namely: 1) when breakout will occur and 2) the team names. In fact, for a fakeout in 2000,[1] Kerem threw out packets containing the real team names because Maalot of that year had snuck into their bunk and looked at Kerem’s Maccabiah folders. Kerem wanted to trick Maalot into thinking that they had only seen the fake teams. The element of secrecy drove Kerem 2000 to cover up a crisis, if only for their peace of mind that the great Maccabiah secret was still intact. Here are two more stories to highlight this point.

1) In 2009, my campers Daniel Neuberg and Michael Schumeister were in the main office when they saw the names for that year in the copy machine. When I overheard a member of Kerem ‘09 clearly upset that this secret had been leaked, I took these two campers to the backstairs of the office and told them sternly that if they told anyone what they had learned, their bunk would lose plaque privileges.[2] They kept the secret to themselves, and we laughed about it afterward, but at the time the threat of losing the plaque convinced them of the gravity of the situation.

2) This past summer ‘Joe’ was a camper in older Kfirim. During Mifkad on the night that Maccabiah was going to break, I overheard a conversation with two of my campers that Joe in Kfirim had seen the sketches of one team’s shelet, and had learned that team’s name. To make matters worse, he spread this information to other members of Kfirim. Kerem was livid because the purity of the surprise had been ruined. My position as Rosh Kerem meant, to me, that I needed to do something. With Toby Kuperwaser’s[3] permission, I pulled Joe outside and reprimanded him. I told him that he should be ashamed of himself for how irresponsible he was, that Kerem was extremely mad, and that when he eventually got to Kerem, he would realize how wrong it was to share a Maccabiah secret.  This scolding was intended to guilt trip him, to really make him reflect on his actions.

But the moment the conversation ended, I knew I had completely overstepped my bounds, and had blown the situation out of proportion. I spoke to Joe like he was one of my sixteen-year-old campers, not like the harmless Kfirim camper that he was. He had stumbled upon one of the greatest treasures in camp and shared it with his friends as normal 12-year-old would do. In hindsight, I realize I should not have confronted him at all and I regret making Joe feel so badly about his actions.  

In both of these situations, why did I react with such severity? Why did I feel the need to threaten my Maalot kids with losing a prized possession and unjustifiably yell at a Kfirim kid about a silly issue of ‘leaking the secret?’ These questions hit on issues that are far broader than just Maccabiah, that demonstrate the way that Yavneh, and I would postulate other camps, function. Why do people feel the need to withhold information about programmatic aspects of camp? Every staff member – and by the end of the summer, Kerem – will recognize the following conversations, which will repeat multiple times a day: “What is our peulat erev tonight? “I can’t tell you, it’s a secret.” “What song for Zimriyah are you doing?” “I can’t tell you, it’s a secret.” Where are we going for trip day? “I can’t tell you, it’s a secret.” And the crème de la crème of camp secrets concerns Maccabiah. When is breakout, and what are the team names?

This past summer as Rosh Kerem, for no other reason than to avoid the constant influx of questions[4] that I received as a Rosh (any and all past Roshei aydah can empathize with me) I instituted a “no secrets” policy when it came to programmatic aspects of my aydah’s schedule. The Kerem staff would never say, “I can’t tell you, it’s a secret,” and were discouraged from saying “I don’t know” if they did in fact know the answer. How did this improve our aydah? And what did we lose by willingly spilling our ‘secrets’?

We gained two things, something I anticipated and something that came as a surprise. The reason that I instituted this “no secrets” policy in the first place was to avoid the never-ending questions my campers, and all campers, have - and it worked. Often forgotten is what I’ll call the trickle down phenomenon: when the right person in the aydah learns new information, 95% of the aydah will know what I told him/her within a few hours. If I told someone something at a meal, the word would spread almost instantaneously. This phenomenon helped mitigate the problem of repeating myself 51 times. I consciously relied on this effect to spread the word about something.

However, the staff of Kerem 2010 got something else out of this policy as well. We gained our campers’ trust. They knew that we would never use the “it’s a secret” excuse to trick them into doing something they didn’t want to do. Campers hate doing things they are forced to do, and if you don’t tell them about a boring peulah when they ask, they despise it 10 times more than if you tell them in the first place. My campers were happy and relieved to know what to expect each day, and when we told them directly, good news or not, they trusted us and knew we were on their side. This is an incredibly important aspect of maintaining a happy Kerem.

What did we lose? We lost the overrated pleasure of experiencing a good surprise. Everyone imagines that perfect day when someone knocks on our door with a large check and says, “Surprise, you just won a million dollars.” So why not make everything an unexpected surprise and foster that excitement? The problem is, unless we have that million dollar check to hand over, the uncertainty about the future, and usually the disappointing realization of what the surprise actually is, overpowers the sense of exhilaration that comes with a surprise. From a programming perspective, I propose that camp needs less secrets. Roshes need to talk to counselors more, and counselors need to talk to their campers more to remove that factor of uncertainty from the day, and thus the constant questioning about what to expect. This will lead to fewer questions, happier counselors, and more trustworthy campers.

When it comes to Maccabiah, I think the intensity needs to be scaled down significantly. However, the general notion of preserving the element of surprise until the moment of breakout should remain intact. After all, how cool would breakout be if everyone knew the secrets of Maccabiah in the first place? Pretty lackluster, unless, of course, that lousy surprise was accompanied by an unanticipated million dollar check. 

---

[1] This was actually one of the best fakeouts I have ever seen at camp. I will describe it later when I go through the past 13 years of breakouts.

[2]   In Maalot and Kerem, the bunk plaque is a huge deal, one that I will explore in later posts.

[3] Rosh Kfirim ’10.

[4] This is something that campers from Gurim to Kerem have in common. I am baffled by how many Kerem kids ask me what time Mifkad is. Really? How long have you been going to this camp? 

A Clarification

I just want to make a clarification about one of the subsections that I said I was going to write about.

Relationships.

What I mean by this is the following. I am interested in how all the different groups of people at camp (campers, counselors, roshei aydah, and upperstaff) interact with each other. I will also possibly be writing about how the opposite genders get along and relate to one another on a daily basis. However, I will not be speaking at all about the dating culture at camp (campers and counselors included) mostly because of the inappropriate nature of the topic. I once again reiterate that I will not embarrass anyone with any story or comment that is made.

Zimriyah. Why has it changed?

Zimriyah.  It is by far the most anticipated event of first month, either because you absolutely love or hate it. It amazes me that, as a camp, we have such a hard time motivating campers to enjoy a peulah of shira, but we can get campers to sit down for hours and hours over the course of first month to memorize 3 songs complete with hand-motions, stand-ups and sit-downs. It is one of the few times through the whole summer that we treat Gurim like they are a legitimate aydah,[1] and Zimriyah is often the focal point of a camper’s summer. But Zimriyah has not always looked like what we know it to be now. 

People sometimes ask, when did Zimriyah turned into what it looks like today?

In 2010, one of PJ’s[i] jobs after coming back from Naaleh was to transfer the old Zimriyah recordings and other camp videos from tapes to DVDs. Yavneh wanted to be able to watch their old videos on more modern viewing devices. I noticed something amazing while PJ and I watched the videos. Even just 10-15 years ago Zimriyah looked very different. The songs were a lot simpler, there were no extra ‘wow factors’ embedded in the songs (including no H/S[2]), and the hand motions consisted of arm swinging and occasionally putting hands on neighbors shoulders. Frankly, there was little energy compared to what we see today. Even in 2002 when I was in Leviim, I remember learning the hand motions to our best song Henei Matov.[3] The hand motions were: raise your right hand, raise your left hand, lower your right hand, lower your left hand, clap. Pretty pathetic. Even Kfirim cannot get away with such mundane hand motions anymore.  To make matters worse, in Leviim ‘02, we didn’t even know the words to our Shir Yisraeli. How then, in 2010, do we have a Zimriyah in which Leviim and Kerem mashed up a number of popular songs, where Kfirim had soloists for every song, and where Arayot had a solid performance but didn’t place at all?[4] I attribute this to three factors that has sparked change in Zimriyah:

1.       Aydot like Kerem ‘03 and songs like Maalot ‘01’s “Like a Prayer”.

2.       The music that teenagers are listening to as well as YouTube sensationalism.

3.       Change in the camp mentality which has made Zimriyah a more central component of the summer, leading to more time-consuming and rigorous practice sessions..  

For now, I won’t go into much detail about the first and third points since I will return to them later. However, Kerem ‘03 as an aydah and the performance of “Like a Prayer” by Maalot ‘01 revolutionized how Zimriyah is performed. Kerem ‘03 was about style and creativity. Even though in any given year, they were not always the dominant aydah, they always brought something new, imaginative and original to the table. Their hand-motions were consistently fantastic; they exuded a confidence and happiness that set them apart from their competitors. This pushed other adyot to follow suit, realizing that the best way to win was not with monotonous arm hand motions and singing Yerushalim Shel Zahav.[5]

In the same light, “Like a Prayer” changed the simple method of composing a Shir Aydah: find a singable song, write Hebrew words, use the original arrangement, throw in a few hand motions, and you’re done. Even though it wasn’t officially a medley or a mash up,[6] “Like a Prayer” resembled something of the sort because of all of the added elements to the song. It was fantastic.

I believe that a major contribution to this change in Zimriyah is the content that kids and counselors watch and listen to while they are not in camp. Musical artists these days are pushing the envelope for visual sensationalism by combining music and art, and for the first time ever, we have 24/7 access to them on Youtube. One of the reasons Lady Gaga is so popular is because of her outlandish music videos that music is not only about verse and chorus. Similarly, artists like GirlTalk do exactly what I will argue makes for the best type of shir aydah. Extract elements of different songs, mash them together, and create an original work of art. In this era of mass media and free distribution, kids have access to all the tools they need to create art of their own. Counselors and Kerem see this, and try to do it, to a lesser extent, for their aydot. 

Finally, camp itself has undergone monumental changes over the past ten years. The types of campers that it attracts, and the overall mentality of these campers and those who run the camp, are more geared towards active participation in camp activities. Kids who do well socially are the ones who enthusiastically take part in camp activities, not the ones who skip them. This is the reason why adyot can have Zimriyah practice every day, sometimes for two peulot back to back, why we pay someone to come to camp to record us sing, and why my campers in 2008 were willing to learn a hat dance.[7] We explore and experiment beyond what is expected of us in the hopes of wowing our peers and achieving a status of excellence that will go down in Yavneh history. Overall, Zimriyah is far better than it was just 10 years ago and I hope when I visit in 10 years, it will have grown even more.

---

[1] According to the my rankings, that will be explained in a later subsection, they actually outperform Kfirim and Arayot

[2] Harmonies and Solos. I use this term a lot so I have abbreviated it.

[3] We ended up being the only aydah not to place for that category because of a three-way tie for 3^rd. This prompted a joke at Parsha Players where they said “Everyone’s a winner at Machaneh Yavneh…except for Leviim”

[4] This fact is debatable, but at least they weren’t horrible like Arayot usually is.

[5] Performed three times over the past 10 years. There has to be some rule about limiting this. 

[6] The distinction between medley and mash-up: a medley is when you take a bunch of songs and put them together, however, you only sing one song at a time. Some examples are Maalot ‘05 Car Wash etc. medley or Maalot ‘07 Beatles medley. I would even consider Arayot 09’s All The Above etc. a medley. Even though they use “All The Above” as the chorus, they still only sing one song at a time. However Leviim ‘10 and Kerem ‘10 both used mash-ups for their shirei aydah.

[7] Epic Fail. More on this later.

---

[i] Sam Stock, K’09. He is most known by the nickname that ELi Aroesty- Cohen K'00 and K'07 gave him after the hockey player, PJ Stock. His nickname was so popular that Ben Stock M’10 was known as LPJ or Little PJ.

Why am I spending my time writing a blog called Camp Yavneh Theory anyway?

Camp Yavneh. There is nothing in my life that I am more certain of than my feelings about camp. No matter where or when, with whom or what, hearing the word Yavneh, for the rest of my life, will make me smile. Not a playful smile or a joking smile, but a true love-from-the-bottom-of-my-heart type of smile. Yavneh, to me, is the place where I grew up, and taught me so much about who I am.  It has fostered everlasting friendships and a sense of Jewish pluralism that reinforces my commitment to Judaism. I am the epitome of a guy who lives 10 for 2; those two precious months of the summer motivate me to get through the other ten months of the year.

Camp Yavneh. I have so many cherished memories from this place--moments and songs, chants and jokes -- that are eternally etched in my mind. Early on in my Yavneh career, I learned the meaning of being raided, a song about Bumble Bee Tuna and a secret society called Bubba Love. Later on, I discovered the pleasure of making forts behind B7, the power of Zimriah, and why clowns should not be allowed again at camp. In Maalot, I had to grasp the meaning of deep sorrow with the passing of a friend, but also the exuberance of shigaon and the joy of sweeping Zimriah. In Kerem, I saw my bunkmate turn into a Kool-Aid man, felt a heightened sense of spirituality at aydah-wide tisches, and taught an unforgettable shir plugah to 150 Maccabiah-crazed kids. On Naaleh, I encountered what it is like to not be in camp for a summer, but experienced the feeling of Yavneh welcoming me back when I joined Leviim for the last two weeks. Over the next four years I learned about giving back to this community, having kids of my own, and promoting a bunk and aydah experience that makes everyone want more. And finally, this past year, as Rosh of Kerem 2010, I learned shehakol efshari (that everything is possible) and what it means to truly appreciate: my kids, my staff and my camp.

Camp Yavneh. I ran the gamut.  From Gurim camper to Kerem Rosh. Few people can say that. Few people have that full perspective. I have spent the last 14 summers loving every moment, hoping it would never end. The great thing was that every summer I knew I could go back. Every summer there was new challenge, a new opportunity to inspire and be inspired.  And now, as a 23-year-old graduate student, I know, with sadness, it is time to move on. I wish I could stay young forever, to always have a summer at Yavneh to look forward to, but I know I can’t. Which is why more than anything else, at this moment, before my memories fade and blur into one, it is incredibly important for me to share with you my affection for the place that was my home: a place of refuge, of community, of love.

My plan of action:

Over the next few months I plan on publishing my thoughts about camp. In each post I will try to accomplish three goals:

1. Document stories and short vignettes that relate to the topic at hand. I have no doubt that people will approach these stories from perspectives different from my own. That’s ok. Memories are subjective and will remain that way.

2. Share my Yavneh theory by asking theoretical questions and answering them. I plan on covering five topics, each with multiple subsections:

·      Zimriah/Maccabiah

·      Kerem

·      Relationships

·      Camp change

·      Miscellaneous

3. Discuss aspects of camp that I think can be improved and suggest solutions. I have spent years at camp listening to campers, counselors and staff voice the same problems over and over. These issues can be fixed, and hopefully, I will be able to suggest a good way to accomplish this.

Things not to expect:

            Throughout the course of my discussion I will be using peoples’ names. However, no story of mine will ever make fun of someone else, nor will I expose camp’s or someone else’s secrets. This includes details pertaining to information that campers should not know. I fully hope and expect people of all ages read this, so I know what my limits are.  When I do reference these private aspects of camp through a story, I will not use names and I will only reveal the necessary details to make my point. I will try as hard as I can to respect the integrity of the camp, campers, counselors and upper staff.  In addition, I am not an employee of camp anymore, so anything I say will not reflect the opinions of Camp Yavneh.

 

What I want from the reader:

More than anything, I want to hear your voice. What do you think about my theories? Do you agree or think I am completely off base? I know that I have a lot of Yavneh theory to share, but I know you do too. What makes Yavneh tick as it does? I want you to tell me.

Camp Yavneh. A hobby, a passion, a pastime. Yavneh is a source of pride and joy, for each of us individually as well as for our collective community. It is the place where we grew up and found our lifelong friends. We have come to realize that every summer is a different summer, but every summer is somehow also the best. Every year makes us yearn for the next and compels us to count those 300 days until the end of June comes again. Over the next few months I will give Yavneh one last ounce of my time, thought, energy, and passion. I love camp. And I want to hold on to it for just a little longer.