SEPTEMBER 29 • 2022 | 27

awkwardness amid all the other parents 
and their darling munchkins.

DAY 1
On the first day of camp, Eli, not yet 
2 years old, walked in happy as could 
be, not understanding that we are 
about to part ways. Shortly thereafter, 
as the children congregated in a large 
auditorium, the amazing teachers came 
to us and, with little warning, slapped a 
sticker on his back with his name and 
carried him away to his classroom. The 
entire duration of the drop-off process 
was less than three minutes, and I didn’t 
even see it coming.
Backing up a little, on the way to 
school, I was on the phone with my Israeli 
mother, hoping for some first-day advice. 
Rather than comfort me, she increased 
the stress level by informing me that I 
was expected to stay with my son for the 
first week as he got acclimated to the new 
environment, and that I should have taken 
it into account in my work schedule for 
the week, which I hadn’t.
I quickly made calls to start and 
improvise a solution for the week, 
cautiously (and reluctantly) preparing 
to be in camp alongside him all week. 
My American partner thought I was a 
total meshuganah when I called her and 
reassured me that we’re no longer in the 
Israel of the 1980s. Little did I know, my 
time as a parent dropping off at camp on 
the first day would end as quickly as it 
began.
The drop-off surprise was not the only 
hiccup in Day 1. At around 11:15 a.m., 
we received a text from his teacher. Keep 
in mind the half-day, which we signed up 
for 3 times a week, ends at 12:30 pm. She 
was asking where his lunch was — little 
did she know I had not packed him a 
lunch. Wasn’t this included? My son spent 
his first camp lunch eating snacks and 
leftovers (hand over face emoji). 

DAY 2
On the second day of camp, we were 
feeling great. We had packed him a lunch. 
Little did we know, we had broken the 
11th commandment of every school ever: 
Thou shalt not bring nut products to nut-
free school. His peanut butter and jelly 
sandwich, of which one of his parents 
was extremely proud of (hmm ...), was 
definitely not allowed.

This was a change for an Israeli baby 
growing up surrounded by Bamba 24/7. 
This warranted a call, text, voicemail and 
email directly from the director informing 
us of our faux pas. Gladly, everyone was 
OK, and the fumble was discovered by the 
teachers early on. Profusely apologizing is 
an understatement. 

DAY 3
On the third day of camp, we thought 
things would go smoothly. Apparently 
in the barrage of materials provided, we 
missed the “Friday Pizza Day” memo. 
Fortunately, by this point, his teacher 
understood that she needed to reach 
out to us to ensure we were aware of 
this event and make sure that we “opted 
in” so the boy won’t be the one eating 
a cucumber when all of his friends are 
eating pizza (too young to establish 
individualism!?).
One of the things we found in the first 

week is that you can keep up with the 
happenings during the day through an 
app. While this allowed us to witness 
first-hand our lunch fails, we also enjoyed 
seeing our son throughout the day. But 
then I noticed all these fancy lunch boxes 
it seemed all the kids had. What do I 
do? I consulted with several experts (i.e. 
parents) to determine what this thing was, 
colloquially known as a bento box.
At this point we had 3 options: 1) 
encourage his individualism and let him 
take the brown bag lunch; 2) let him 
channel his inner Israeli and get him the 
$8 knock-off from Target; or 3) succumb, 
similar to pizza Friday, to the self-
inflected societal pressure of Jewish camp 
and get him the $32 bento box with the 
monster trucks (his favorite).
Well, Eli got the monster truck bento 
box, with his name and an extra monster 
truck printed on it. Only challenge now is 
that he loves monster trucks so much that 
he keeps closing his box, looking at it and 
not eating his food. 

WEEK 2
At the end of a not-so-successful Week 1, 
we braced for Week 2. The funny thing 
is that what was previously foreign to Eli 
had become second nature. As we walked 
in and saw all the children, some hanging 
on to their parents’ legs, some using their 
vocal cords to their full extent, Eli already 
picked up on where he was headed and 
consistent with Week 1, there were tears 
as we quickly (as is customary) parted 
ways.
Week 2 wasn’t quite as successful as 
we had hoped. Another call from the 
director informed us that if Eli was going 
to keep coming, he will need to be picked 
up early, at 11 a.m. instead of the normal 
12:30, since he wouldn’t stop crying. 
Our child excelled to the top of the class 
as being the best crier and the most 
maladjusted COVID-era baby.
Later in the week as we anxiously 
awaited the call to pick him up, we got a 
different call. It turns out he was doing 
great and was welcome to stay until the 
normal 12:30 end of the half day. What 
a relief. Of course, this success was right 
before a 10-day camp hiatus.

WEEK 3
As we went into Week 3 of camp, we 

“ON THE FIRST DAY 
OF CAMP, ELI, NOT 
YET 2 YEARS OLD, 
WALKED IN HAPPY AS 
A CHILD COULD BE, 
NOT UNDERSTAND-
ING THAT WE WERE 
ABOUT TO PART 

WAYS.”

— FATHER, SHIMON LEVY

continued on page 28

COURTESY BETH EL ECC

Eli and the wonderful 
Ms. Tracey

