Apr 24, 2026
There’s a Hebrew phrase we use at camp like it’s second nature: dugma ishit — literally, “personal example.” It sounds obvious until you actually sit with it. And lately, I’ve been sitting with it a lot. Specifically, in the school drop-off lane.
Most mornings, I drive my daughter to school (she has her license now and goes to an amazing school )l. It’s one of those quiet rituals I genuinely love — fifteen minutes of dad-daughter time before the world takes over. But when we pull into the school zone, something happens. Speed limit is 20 mph. Crossing guard is out. Kids are everywhere. And yet — without fail — I watch many cars blow through the zone like they’re late for a flight, make illegal U-turns at the light, cut left past a sign that could not be more clearly labeled NO LEFT TURN. I see those cars and think: is there a kid in that passenger seat watching? Because there almost certainly is. And some of those kids are getting their learner’s permits soon.
At CYJ, we ask a lot of our madrichim (counselors). Most of them are 18 to 21 years old, and they are always on. When they say good morning to the kitchen staff by name, or stop to pick up a piece of trash — campers notice. When they disagree with a co-counselor and handle it with respect instead of an eye-roll — campers notice. When their Maccabiah team loses a match, they still cheer for the other side anyway — campers notice that most of all. Our staff lives dugma ishit around the clock for eight weeks every summer, and it’s one of the things I’m most proud of about this community.
So here’s my challenge — and honestly, my personal commitment. The next time you’re in the drop-off line and the car ahead hasn’t moved in 45 seconds and you’re already running late — pause. Check your passenger seat. Someone is watching. They always are. Being a dugma ishit doesn’t require a grand gesture. It’s showing up at 20 mph, at a full stop, with your turn signal on. The small stuff is the big stuff.
Full disclosure: by writing this article, I have now publicly committed to being a better driver. My daughter is thrilled. My ego is less so. Our madrichim get it. I’m convinced our families do too.
— Frank “the Tank” Silberlicht, Executive Director
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