What we get wrong about competition
Get my newsletter every week.
It’s all about kids today
I love to compete.
In high school and college, rugby (and specifically, winning at rugby) was almost all I thought about.
In between doing some crushing (realistically and desperately trying to avoid getting crushed) on the field, I’d think about strategy, improving, and getting our team in a place to win each and every time out.
Rugby Jack!
It doesn’t and didn’t stop there. I love Settling Catan and have spent hours perfecting volleyball serves that don’t look like I am trying too hard, but… I like to win.
At the same time, I’ve always had a “complicated” relationship with competition.
Sure, I want to throw down at Catan, rugby, kickball, whatever. I’ll strategize accordingly. But I’m also perfectly content to be absolutely terrible at baseball (which I suck at) or am fine losing at chess or poker.
The difference? My investment level with all of them matches the context.
I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately as I watch how we handle competition at camp.
Because let’s be honest: adults screw up competition all the time.
Sometimes we see grown-ups gaslighting kids into thinking Ws and Ls don’t matter, as if they won’t notice who scored more goals if we don’t keep track. We invent elaborate “everyone’s a winner” scenarios fooling absolutely no one.
I say this with all the love to my “Camp Tie” folks out there. I know it comes from a really good place.
Other times, it’s all taken so seriously that a cabin kickball game turns into the World Series Game 7, arguing safe and out calls while kids join in the relative misery of making a fun game a life or death situation.
Both approaches miss something fundamental: competition isn’t inherently good or bad.
What matters is how we frame it, guide it, and most importantly, whether we match the level of seriousness that the kids themselves bring to it.
Match Their Gravity
So what’s the alternative to either downplaying or overemphasizing competition? It’s a concept we’ll call “matching their gravity.”
Here’s what typically happens: The competition level gets predetermined by someone in charge or just assumed without discussion.
Adults bring their own baggage about competition, and kids are sometimes expected to adapt.
But what if instead of deciding how seriously to take a competitive activity, we asked the kids and then matched their level of investment? Or, we make it clear so they can opt in or pick something else
It could be as simple as: “Hey folks, before we start, how much does winning matter to you all in this game? Scale of 1-10?”
This question does three powerful things:
Acknowledges that caring about winning is valid (and different people care different amounts)
Gives kids agency in setting the tone
Lets you, the adult, know how to show up
If a bunch of kids say “10”? Then you know this matters deeply to them. You bring appropriate intensity, fair officiating, and keep score all the way through.
If they say “3”? Keep it light, focus on participation, and don’t go nuts about the outcome.
This works for all ages. Even 7-year-olds can tell you how much they care about winning a particular game on a particular day.
And yeah, different kids will care different amounts about the same activity. The art is finding the collective temperature of the group.
When one camper is at a 10 and another is at a 2, your job isn’t to pick one or average them out. It’s to acknowledge both: “Looks like we’ve got some folks who really want to win and others who are just here to play. That’s cool. Let’s make space for both!”
What that means for me is: We are gonna keep score, follow the rules, and if you end up hating the game, you can always take a break or join the kids playing carpet ball over there.
This is what taking kids seriously looks like. Not assuming they’re all hyper-competitive or all just there to mess around, but recognizing their actual feelings about competition and responding accordingly.
The goal isn’t to eliminate competition or to amplify it. It’s to right-size it based on what the kids actually want and need in that moment.
Quick Favor Break:
Do me a huge solid?
Fill out this survey about screens and camp.
TBH - I am the most interested in how you are handling phones and staff
Locking In vs. Picking Flowers
While we’re figuring out how to match the kids’ competitive energy, we also need to be honest about where we as staff members naturally fall on the competition spectrum.
In my experience, staff members can sometimes tend toward one of two extremes:
Locking In: Overboard with competition. Diving for the ball in a casual game with 8-year-olds. Argiung calls. Might even subtly bend the rules to ensure victory.
Picking Flowers: Completely checked out during competitive activities. Standing in the field, literally picking dandelions. Don’t keep score, don’t care about the rules, and generally communicate that the whole thing doesn’t matter.
The problem is that both extremes miss what kids are actually asking for.
When a child is deeply invested in a game, the “flower picker” invalidates their genuine feelings. The message is: “The thing you care about doesn’t deserve to be taken seriously.”
When a child is just there to have fun, the Locked In crowd creates unnecessary pressure. The message becomes: “You’re not taking this seriously enough.”
The sweet spot? The Goldilocks Zone. This is where you can:
Get genuinely excited when the kids are excited
Stay relaxed when the energy is casual
Shift between these modes based on what the group needs
Model good sportsmanship regardless of intensity level
That’s the flexibility our staff need to develop. Not being stuck in one mode, but reading the room and adjusting accordingly.
In staff training, I’ll be asking: “Are you a redliner or a flower picker? And how can you practice moving toward the middle when the situation calls for it?”
The Quadrant Approach
Let’s take this concept a step further with a simple framework that has transformed how I think about working with kids, not just in competition but in everything.
Picture two intersecting axes:
On the horizontal axis: Babying → Taking Kids Seriously
On the vertical axis: Neglected → Engaged
These create four distinct zones for how we engage with kids. I’ll talk more about this in the coming weeks because it applies to a ton of stuff.
But for now, here’s a quick primer:
Helicopter Zone (Babying + Engaged) Constantly stepping in, fixing problems, and protecting kids from the natural consequences of winning and losing.
Abandoned Zone (Babying + Neglected) Think of the distracted counselor who occasionally yells “Be careful!” but isn’t actually engaged.
Boot Camp Zone (Taken Seriously + Neglected) High expectations without support. “Figure it out yourself” or “toughen up” mentality without guidance or care.
Growth Zone (Taken Seriously + Invested) This is our sweet spot. You hold high expectations AND provide emotional support. You say, “You’ve got this—and I’ve got your back.”
In the context of competition, the Growth Zone means:
Acknowledging that winning and losing matter (taking them seriously)
Providing the support to process both outcomes (staying invested)
Giving honest feedback about performance
Ensuring the experience builds rather than diminishes
Most of us drift between these quadrants without realizing it. The goal is to spend more time in that Growth Zone, especially when competition heats up.
The Competition Challenge
A simple staff training session could even look like this:
Ask everyone how they think about competition
Point out the two extremes
Draw the quadrants
Ask them what the growth zone looks like in different scenarios
Competition at camp isn’t just about games and sports. It’s a laboratory for how kids handle achievement, disappointment, collaboration, and conflict.
When we match their gravity, we’re saying: “I’ve got you. Your feelings matter. I won’t impose my own agenda.”
That’s taking kids seriously.
And it’s all completely flexible. It works from Color War to MOW and everything in between. 7-year-olds or teenagers. The ultra-competitive or the just-here-to-have-fun crowd.
It puts a stop to redlining or flower picking, and kids can definitely tell.
Sure, Rugby Jack has his own ideas about winning. But Baseball Jack doesn’t care as much. Kids have their own competition spectrum, too. We just have to find it.
You got this,
Jack
My #1 goal is to get more kids to camp while getting camp staff ready for the summer
Check out a couple of email series all about these topics:
And if you’re gearing up for staff training, we have:
The Summer Camp Society Staff Training Recipe Book
A full week already planned * 99 pages * 23 sessions with all activities * Too much to list here.
Get my newsletter every week.
It’s all about kids today
Jack Schott
Summer Camp Evangelist