Field Note #7: Advocacy Without Experience

"The impediment to action advances action. What stands in the way becomes the way."— Marcus Aurelius

Every summer, a new group of educators, counselors, and youth development professionals arrives at camp carrying fresh ideas, contagious enthusiasm, and a genuine desire to make a difference. Many are college students preparing for careers in education, social work, psychology, recreation, and human development. They are stepping into their first opportunities to lead children outside of a classroom, where the lessons rarely come from a textbook.

One of the most encouraging observations I have made over the past several summers is that this generation has found its voice much earlier than many of us did.

They ask questions.

They advocate for themselves.

They establish boundaries.

They are willing to speak up when something doesn't feel right.

That is not a weakness. In many ways, it is a sign of progress. Healthy organizations need people who are willing to raise concerns before problems become crises. The ability to communicate needs, challenge assumptions, and advocate for safer working conditions creates stronger teams.

But advocacy, like every leadership skill, requires practice.

Because finding your voice is only half of becoming a leader.

Learning how to use it is the other half.

The grey lives somewhere between advocacy and responsibility.

During the second day of camp this summer, I received an email signed by nearly the entire day camp staff. It listed fifteen concerns ranging from staffing shortages and supply management to communication, severe weather planning, compensation, and organizational support. Reading through it, I realized something almost immediately.

Most of the concerns were legitimate.

The camp was operating with fewer staff than originally planned. Supplies were still catching up after opening week. Purchasing procedures weren't yet familiar. International staff were navigating an entirely new country. Like many camps across the country, we were doing our best to solve staffing shortages in real time while still delivering a quality experience for hundreds of campers.

None of those concerns were imaginary.

What was missing wasn't concern.

It was perspective.

Years ago, in a previous chapter of my career, I attended hostage negotiations training. At first glance, it seems like a strange comparison for summer camp, but the longer I work in leadership, the more I realize the same principles apply.

When emotions run high, people don't need someone to immediately solve every problem.

They need someone willing to listen.

Someone who can regulate their own emotions before trying to regulate someone else's.

Someone who can separate facts from assumptions, acknowledge legitimate concerns, and help people move from reaction toward resolution.

Leadership is rarely about having all the answers.

More often, it is about helping people widen their field of view.

One of the resilience skills I teach through Master Resilience Training is called Put It In Perspective. Under stress, our brains naturally narrow their focus. We begin catastrophizing. We assume today's obstacle will become tomorrow's disaster. We spend precious mental energy rehearsing worst-case scenarios instead of identifying the most likely outcomes and developing a plan to navigate them. The skill isn't about ignoring problems or pretending everything is fine. It's about interrupting that downward spiral long enough to ask a better question.

• What is actually happening?

• What is most likely to happen next?

• What can I influence?

That shift in thinking doesn't eliminate adversity. It restores agency!

The Stoic philosopher Epictetus taught that we cannot control every circumstance we encounter, but we can always control our response. Camp has always been an exercise in that philosophy.

• Children get homesick.

• Schedules fall behind.

• The weather changes without warning.

• Staff members become sick.

• Equipment breaks.

A week that looked perfect on paper transforms by lunchtime. The work has never been about avoiding uncertainty. The work has always been learning to operate within it. What struck me most wasn't the email itself. It was what happened the following week.

Wisconsin welcomed us with a heat advisory. Temperatures climbed, activities had to be adjusted, hydration became a constant priority, schedules shifted throughout the day, and every decision required balancing program quality with camper safety. Operationally, Week Two was more difficult than Week One.

Yet something remarkable happened. The same staff who had questioned whether camp could function under imperfect conditions adapted with confidence.

• They modified activities without being asked.

• They anticipated problems before they became emergencies.

• They supported one another.

• They communicated more effectively.

• They solved challenges together.

The obstacles hadn't disappeared. They had simply become more capable. Looking back, I don't think Week One taught them how to advocate. They already knew how to do that.

Week One taught them something much more valuable. It taught them that they were stronger than they believed. Confidence is rarely built by hearing that everything will be okay. Confidence is built by discovering that even when things aren't okay, you are capable of responding.

This is the quiet responsibility of mentorship. Our role as leaders is not to remove every obstacle from the path. Nor is it to dismiss legitimate concerns in the name of resilience. Both extremes fail the people we are trying to develop. Our responsibility is to help emerging professionals understand the difference between reacting to discomfort and responding with intention.

To validate concerns while expanding perspective. To teach that advocacy is most effective when paired with curiosity. To remind them that every organization operates within constraints they may not yet see. And to create enough psychological safety that difficult conversations become opportunities for growth rather than divisions.

Every generation enters the workforce with strengths the previous one wishes it had developed sooner. This generation's strength is its willingness to speak. Our responsibility is to teach them when to pause, widen their perspective, and remember that leadership isn't measured by how loudly we raise concerns. It is measured by what we choose to build after we've been heard.

Because somewhere between advocacy and perspective...leadership quietly begins to emerge.