Why a buzzword of 2026 actually describes what great overnight camps have been doing for kids – especially neurodivergent ones – all along.
Earlier this year, a piece in New York Magazine’s The Cut made the rounds online. It was written by Kathryn Jezer-Morton, and it introduced a phrase that seemed to stick with a lot of exhausted, screen-weary parents: friction-maxxing.
The concept is straightforward, if a little uncomfortable. Technology companies, Jezer-Morton argues, have spent years engineering our lives to be frictionless. No waiting, no awkward pauses, every inconvenience smoothed away . Everything is more convenient and algorithms know exactly what to offer next. The result is that we’ve lost our tolerance for the normal challenges of being human. Things like being bored, or figuring out a social situation, or doing a task slowly and imperfectly.
Friction-maxxing is the proposed antidote. It’s choosing the harder option on purpose. Reading a real book instead of watching a recap. Calling your mom instead of texting. Letting your kid be bored for a bit instead of handing them a screen.
When we first read the piece here in the Akeela office, the reaction was something like: yes – and also, we’ve been doing this for decades.
What Camp Directors Have Always Known
The friction-maxxing conversation is new, but the idea isn’t.
If you’ve worked at a camp long enough, you know that the harder moments are usually the important ones. Friction isn’t exactly fun in-the-moment, necessarily, but it’s important. A kid lying in their bunk on the first night, feeling homesick and having to get through it without calling home. A disagreement with a bunkmate that can’t be solved by blocking them online. Trying to climb the rock wall and losing your cool at the 3-feet mark.
Those moments can be uncomfortable. Sometimes really uncomfortable. But they matter.
Psychologist Jonathan Haidt talks about this in his book (and one of our favorites to recommend!) The Anxious Generation. His point, more or less, is that kids need some level of challenge in order to grow. Just as the immune system must be exposed to germs, and trees must be exposed to wind, children require exposure to setbacks, failures, shocks, and stumbles in order to develop strength and self-reliance.
In a section of his book dedicated to solutions, Haidt specifically called out overnight summer camp — away from devices, full of communal responsibility, slightly risky, exciting, and full of the real human friction that screens have been engineered to eliminate — as one of the most powerful environments for children’s development. Camp professionals have known this for generations, and Haidt and Jezer-Morton have simply given us some catchy vocabulary to help the world understand it.
The Specific Frictions of Overnight Camp
It’s worth pausing to name what “friction” actually looks like at an overnight summer camp, because it’s not one big dramatic challenge. It’s dozens of small ones, every single day.
Waking up, getting yourself ready in the morning, and making your bed (or at least attempting to). Navigation family-style meals and figuring out what you want to eat, and should you try to make a healthy choice? Trying an activity you’ve never done before, in front of other people. Asking for help.
Also just … managing your own stuff. Your schedule, your emotions, your choices. There’s support, obviously, but no one is doing it all for you.
None of these are traumatic. But each one is practice. And practice, repeated across three weeks of immersive community life, builds something that can’t be built through a worksheet or a social skills group: genuine, internalized capability. The friction is the mechanism of growth, not the obstacle to it.
Why This Matters Even More for Neurodivergent Kids
This kind of experience is good for any kid. For neurodivergent kids – those with ASD1, ADHD, twice-exceptional profiles, or similar – it may be more important still. Here’s why:
The frictionless world that Jezer-Morton and Haidt are writing about was not designed with neurodivergent brains in mind. But, in some ways, the conveniences of technology feel tailor-made to compensate for executive function challenges. For neurodivergent kids who genuinely struggle with planning, organization, and self-regulation, these tools can feel like a lifeline.
But there’s a tradeoff. When everything is handled for you, you don’t get as many chances to build those underlying skills yourself. And for neurodivergent kids who will one day navigate college applications, job interviews, roommate conflicts, and adult friendships (without an algorithm to smooth the way) those underlying skills are not optional.
Those abilities develop through experience. Through trying, messing up, adjusting, trying again. Camp gives kids a place to do that, with support, but without removing the challenge entirely.
The Difference Between Struggle and Suffering
A note worth making explicit: friction-maxxing is not about making children suffer. Jezer-Morton made this clear in her original piece, and it bears repeating in the context of neurodivergent kids, for whom school and social life have often already delivered more than their share of genuine pain.
Good camp programs are thoughtful about this. The expectation isn’t perfection, it’s effort. Kids are asked to stretch, but they’re also supported. Staff are paying attention. There’s a balance.
At Camp Akeela, we think carefully about what kind of friction we’re introducing. We design for the productive kind. The kind that asks a camper to stretch a little, try something new, work through something uncomfortable — and feel the genuine satisfaction of having done it.
The goal isn’t to eliminate discomfort completely. It’s to help kids realize they can handle it. That there’s something on the other side worth having.
What Three Weeks Can Do
Three weeks of camp is hundreds of small frictions — social, emotional, practical, physical — navigated in a supported community of peers who share your neurotype.
These moments accumulate. The kid who arrives uncertain about whether they fit in discovers something different. They discover they are capable. That they are good company. That hard things, in the company of people who are rooting for you, are not quite as hard as they seemed.
That’s the friction-maxxing promise. Camp has been delivering it all along.