August Reflections: On Angry Parents & the Beauty of Imperfection

Dear Friends:

Before I was a camp attorney, I was a camp operator. When my team and I founded our camp well over a decade ago, a friend and mentor offered some advice that I’d like to share with you today: Say “thank you” and “I’m sorry,” often.

Over the years, those two phrases have carried me through some of the hardest conversations.

“Thank you for sharing this feedback.”

“I’m sorry this wasn’t the experience you’d hoped for.”

“Thank you for trusting us.”

“I’m sorry we couldn't turn this around for the camper.”

“Thank you for your efforts.”

“I’m sorry you can’t keep working here this summer.”

“Thank you…”

“I’m sorry…”

“Thank you…”

“I’m sorry…”

Over time, I’ve come to see those phrases not just as polite responses, but as foundational tools for navigating the emotional terrain of camp management. The truth is that, even in the best-run camps, even with the most thoughtful planning and dedicated staff, it’s impossible to keep every single person happy.

I sometimes suggest a thought exercise to clients: Think of your very favorite restaurant, and then look up its online reviews. Even with a 4.8 average, you’ll almost always find a handful of one-star rants.

So it goes with camp. 

To this day, I remember that sinking, butterflies-in-the-stomach feeling the first time I opened an email from an angry parent--full of grievances and a tone that felt like a punch to the gut. In those early days, I often wondered: Is this just us? Are we doing something wrong?

Now, years later, I have the benefit of broader perspective. These days, camps call me when they receive those emails. Even the most seasoned directors get that same anxious feeling when confronted with an angry parent and a laundry list of complaints.

“What do we do?” 

“How should we respond?” 

“Are we the only ones ‘bugging’ you with this stuff?”

Definitely not.

Let’s consider a few realities of the industry. 

For starters, not every kid is a “camp kid.” Group living, raucous meals, minimal downtime, and constant action--it’s not for everyone. And even the “camp kids” don’t always click with the dozen or so other personalities in their group. The challenge for directors is that, when things don’t work out, parents often blame the camp instead of considering the circumstances or their camper’s role in the outcome. 

To be sure, sometimes the criticism is fair. Camps make mistakes. Our dedicated leadership teams spend the whole year preparing, and then hand the program to 150+ summer staff. No matter how strong our systems, human error is an inextricable part of the experience.

And, of course, it wouldn’t be camp without the counselors, many of whom just graduated from high school. They become like older siblings to their campers and help create magical moments throughout the summer, but counselors also don’t exercise the same judgment as parents.   

Simply put, this is camp. We have to let go of the idea that perfection is possible in a setting that is, by its very nature, gloriously and beautifully imperfect.

And here’s another reality of management: We work with talented leadership teams--often consisting of industry veterans who care deeply about the community--along with skilled mid-level managers who pour themselves into making the summer magical for the kids.

When each of those talented people runs into a problem they can’t solve, it goes further and further up the chain and, if nobody finds a solution, it lands on your desk.

As camp directors, we’re quite literally given a curated list of the hardest, most complicated problems in camp: the angriest parents, the most challenging kids, and the most difficult staff. 

No wonder many of us feel worn down by August.

Here’s my reminder: This feeling is normal. You are not alone. This is the rhythm of camp management. We give it our all, our teams give it their all, and still, some things remain beyond our control. 

So, if you just got one of those angry emails, take a deep breath and give yourself some grace. Try to remember that an angry voice, however loud, should not drown out the quiet victories; and there are infinitely more quiet victories. 

I love working with camp clients, and I love this industry, precisely because we’re doing such meaningful, impactful, and fundamentally human work. Things sometimes get a little messy, but it wouldn’t be camp if that wasn’t the case. 

Another mentor visited my camp earlier this week. When I mentioned the kids were going home on Sunday, he smiled and said: “So now’s the time to wrap them in cotton and hope for the very best.” I couldn’t agree more.

Here’s to wrapping them in cotton, finishing strong, and sending home a group of happy, healthy, and in many ways, transformed kids.

With admiration,

Isaac