…teaching prize-chasing, not chesed

This is what happens when my nine-year-old comes home with (yet another) tzedakah fundraising prize booklet.

He excitedly gets busy asking everyone he sees, meets, or knows for money, all enthusiastic for his tzedakah collecting. But when I ask him what he’s collecting for, he has no idea.

“Probably poor people,” he told me last time.

Later, I found out that that particular campaign was actually for a medical organization. That’s a worthy cause, but… it’s not the point.

We’re not teaching chesed with prize-chasing campaigns. The kid is doing it because there’s a prize chart.

If you’re sending a child out to ask people for money, they should understand what they’re asking for. Otherwise, what are we teaching them? It’s not tzedakah. It’s not empathy. It’s not responsibility. It’s just turning kids into a convenient marketing strategy. And I’m not comfortable with my child being used for that.

A chinuch opportunity — like anything else.

I don’t believe that “kids collecting” gets a blanket yes or no. I believe in parenting. Like anything else a child wants to do, it deserves thoughtful consideration.

We’ve built a culture where collecting is everywhere: schools, organizations, shuls. It’s become a rite of passage, a badge of pride, sometimes even a competition. And we tell ourselves it’s chinuch — that we’re teaching our kids to give, to care, to help build Torah. But if we’re honest, collecting teaches a different set of skills too: how to pitch, how to ask, how to pressure. Sometimes those are positive skills to learn. Often, they aren’t.

Kids can learn powerful things from fundraising. They can learn how to speak up with confidence, how to believe in a cause, how to ask without shame and give with excitement. But those are big skills. And kids don’t absorb them just because someone handed them a prize chart and a pamphlet. That’s our job as parents — to coach, to filter, to figure out if this is a real growth opportunity and actually good for the child, or if it’s just free marketing.

When a campaign comes home, we look at it together. Sometimes we opt out. Sometimes we join with limits. Sometimes I’ll match what they raise to help them reach a goal — not to buy the prize, but to show I’m supporting their efforts. The common denominator every time? We talk it through, and we decide with care.

And hopefully, when we treat collecting as a chinuch opportunity, it can actually help a kid grow in beautiful, lasting ways.

…valuable and meaningful — when it’s for their own school or yeshivah.

I’m not into kids going door-to-door collecting for random organizations just to win a drone. That doesn’t sit right with me.

But collecting for your own yeshivah on Purim? That’s different. That’s something I actually think is important. It’s a personal cause, and it gives boys a chance to support something they’re part of, something that matters to them.

Yes, Purim collecting has become “a thing.” But Purim is literally a day for giving tzedakah. And in most yeshivahs, the boys are organized so it works well.

That doesn’t mean there’s no risk — of course there’s risk. There are setups that are irresponsible, and there are groups that go off plan. But that’s where chinuch comes in — both from the school and from the parents, having the necessary discussions before Purim.

Once a year collecting for your yeshivah on Purim isn’t the same as constant fundraising for causes they don’t know. It’s a way of giving back to their own school, it gives them a sense of belonging, and practically speaking, it gives structure to a long day. What are they going to do otherwise — kumzitz (or worse) from Megillah till Maariv? This is a way to channel the energy into something real.

…destroying the focus of Purim.

Last year, my son’s class was promised a major incentive if they hit a certain goal. They were so excited… excited enough that fundraising became their entire Purim.

They weren’t focusing on the Megillah. They weren’t present at the seudah. They weren’t enjoying giving mishloach manos. All they were doing were busy scanning the room for who they could ask for money. Literally — during davening, at people’s houses — they were collecting nonstop. That was the whole night and day.

Yes, tzedakah is a mitzvah of Purim. But so is simchas Yom Tov. So are the other mitzvos hayom. And instead, the focus was on who could raise the most, who got the best prize, who hit the biggest house.

I’m not saying it’s never appropriate to have kids go collecting, especially once they’re older. But this system is warping the entire focus of Purim, and we’re just letting it happen.

…fine, until prizes are linked to results instead of effort.

I don’t have strong opinions about kids collecting. If they want to approach an uncle for tzedakah, or raise a little money with a prize chart, fine. As long as you know where your kids are and safety isn’t a concern, I’m not bothered. Maybe we should be teaching kids some basic etiquette (like not banging on people’s doors two minutes before Shabbos, or ringing doorbells late at night) but overall? No strong feelings.

Where I do have very strong feelings is when schools tie rewards to how much money kids bring in. A trip for the class that raises the most. A prize for the student with the biggest total. That’s where I have a real problem with the system.

In school, kids should be rewarded for effort. For learning. Not for how much their uncle donated in their name. And if you must reward something to do with fundraising, at least reward the work — how many phone calls they made, how many people they reached out to. Not the final dollar amount.

That’s not a reward for the child. That’s a reward for the family’s financial network.

…teaching a very dangerous attitude

What bothers me about kids fundraising is how it changes their mindset. Suddenly, my kids are talking about who’s rich, who’s not, which houses are “worth going to.” They’re literally planning routes based on income. My son — in seventh grade — sits with his friends comparing notes. “He gives twenties. That guy gives hundreds.”

It becomes this weird strategy game — not about the mitzvah, not about the cause, just about who’s going to give them the most.

And I get it — that’s what professional fundraisers do. Fine. That’s their job, and they have to do it to keep our incredible mosdos and organizations afloat. But I’m not raising professional fundraisers. I’m raising children. And I don’t want that money-tracking mindset becoming part of how they see the world, and the people around them. But once they start collecting like this, it slips in fast… and it’s very, very difficult to go back.

…a great opportunity to channel entrepreneurial skills into a mitzvah.

You know the boys who always have a business idea up their sleeves, who turn every opportunity into a (slightly lopsided) barter, who see dollar bills in snow shovels and lemonade?

Yup, me, too.

As a mom of a bunch of boys, I know that these skills can, and hopefully will, be great when they’re grown and need to bring in parnassah. At this age? I don’t love it.

So when the tzedakah campaigns, with their beautiful branded brochures and prizes for different tiers, come around, I think they’re great.

For a change, the kids are collecting money for something bigger than themselves. Yes, they’re competing, hustling, tracking dollar amounts. But for a change… it’s not for themselves, and the prize at the end is far less valuable than the amount they actually give to tzedakah.

They’re using this energy anyway. Let it go toward causes that need it —and let them learn that chesed, giving, and tzedakah are fun, too.

…something that’s become normal —  but it’s far from ideal.

There are a few different issues when it comes to kids collecting tzedakah.

First, there’s the halachah itself. The Gemara says it clearly: When collecting funds, there should be two people; when distributing, three. That’s to preserve integrity, and to avoid any suspicion or misuse of money. With children, that’s even more important — they’re holding other people’s money, and it’s very hard for a kid to resist temptation. That alone makes me uncomfortable; it can easily become a situation of lifnei iver.

Then there’s the pressure. The raffles, the trips for top earners, the prize tiers. On one hand, the kids love it. There’s excitement, competition, energy. And I know the institutions really need the funds. But on the other hand, it creates real inequity. The children who have wealthy relatives or confident phone skills do great. And others — through no fault of their own — struggle. Some kids can’t make those calls. Some don’t have that kind of family support. And that divide becomes very stark, very fast.

So no, I don’t love kids collecting. But I haven’t outright banned it either. I do talk to my children about safety, about boundaries, and about being extremely careful with other people’s money. I try to have them collect in pairs so they can keep an eye on each other, the way the halachah intends.

At the end of the day, I get it. It’s a system we’ve come to rely on. But just because it’s become normal doesn’t mean it’s ideal. Sometimes I think we forget that.

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 983)