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I’m scrambling to get my kid into summer camp. We’ve joined multiple lotteries and lost money, but I need to fill 10 weeks of summer.

My kindergartner is currently signed up for a summer camp without a location, a backup one without a starting date, and three waitlist lotteries. One organizer described our odds as “a fat chance.”

And it’s only March. Summer is still several months away.

Across the country, parents like me are in our annual scramble to piece together summer plans that balance affordability, availability, and, if we’re lucky, advancement.

Scheduling out 10 weeks for my children in the summer is difficult

My wife and I are raising two young kids in Philadelphia, relying largely on city-supported programs. These are reasonably well-run and relatively accessible.

Parents across the country face a familiar puzzle: navigating a fractured landscape of camps, lotteries, and deposits to keep kids safe and enriched. Programs with excess availability often lack resources. Programs in high demand often lack space.

For one week this summer, our preferred low-cost neighborhood arts camp had a lottery whose deadline had not yet closed. A similar program farther away required payment sooner. Not wanting to miss out, we applied for both. We got into the farther-away camp first, which required an immediate nonrefundable deposit — about $300. A few days later, we learned we’d gotten into our preferred neighborhood camp after all. The result: we simply lost the money.

That’s one week out of the roughly 10 weeks of summer we have to cover between the end of school and the start of the next year. As kids age, pressure mounts to stuff the summer with extra-curriculars, though there’s value in giving them unstructured independence. But young kids need to be minded while mom and dad are working.

This annual scramble has a structural cause

American schools typically close 10 to 12 weeks each summer, a calendar that dates to agricultural schedules and single-income households. But today, more American couples are dual earners, meaning both are working during the summer.

Few summer programs cover the full break. Parents must build their own patchwork system to bridge that gap.

The costs add up quickly. The average camp costs $80 per day, and twice that for overnight camps, according to the American Camp Association, though prices range widely.

Multiply $400 or more a week by several weeks per child, and the numbers climb fast. Even relying on city-run programs, we’ll spend several thousand dollars programming our kindergartner this summer, and that’s on top of our youngest, who is still in daycare.

The scramble hurts both kids, their parents, and the wider economy. Last fall, the Bipartisan Policy Center estimated a looming $329 billion loss over the next 10 years due to workforce shortages, driven by a childcare gap that deepens when schools close.

In other wealthy countries, the problem is often less acute. Many have shorter summer breaks or integrate childcare more directly with school systems. In the US, the burden falls largely on parents.

So every year, at the beginning of the year, families start playing a strange logistical game: mapping out calendars, tracking lottery deadlines, comparing deposits, and trying to avoid the weeks that might otherwise collapse into childcare chaos.

In our house, that process is still underway

After missing out on multiple lotteries for the most in-demand, nearby programs, I paid a registration fee for a different day camp while we wait to find out where that camp will be physically located. Another week is covered by a family vacation, and we’ve decided to shift a long weekend with friends into weekdays — my wife and I will be using scarce time off from work.

And we’re lucky. The city programs are relatively affordable, neighbors exchange tips, and we can cover the other costs. The real toll is logistical stress — the spreadsheets, the lottery calendars, the backup plans — and the occasional marital bickering that comes with them.

My wife and I recently exchanged icy updates as we evaluated our five-year-old’s summertime calendar as if we were planning an already-delayed product launch. Some costs of the summertime schedule scramble are clearer than others.




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OpenAI wants a new head of preparedness, but here’s why the $555,000 role could be hard to fill

Recruiting a new head of preparedness may be trickier for OpenAI than you might think.

The ChatGPT maker recently generated buzz online when it said the position — which pays $555,000 a year plus equity — is up for grabs. Yet some tech-industry observers say finding someone who’s qualified and willing to take it on poses a challenge.

Whoever lands it will be tasked with balancing safety concerns and the demands of CEO Sam Altman, who has shown a penchant for releasing products at an exceptionally fast clip. This year, OpenAI rolled out its Sora 2 video app, Instant Checkout for ChatGPT, new AI models, developer tools, and more advanced agent capabilities.

The head of preparedness role is “close to an impossible job,” because at times the person in it will likely need to tell Altman to slow down or that certain goals shouldn’t be met, said Maura Grossman, a research professor at the University of Waterloo’s School of Computer Science. They’ll be “rolling a rock up a steep hill,” she said.

Altman himself has even described the position as intense.

“This will be a stressful job, and you’ll jump into the deep end pretty much immediately,” he recently wrote on X.

Still, it could be a dream come true for the right individual. OpenAI has had a major impact on people’s lives, and the more than half a million dollars in base pay is in line with what AI talent can expect to earn these days.

Who might be qualified for the job

The posting for the position doesn’t list common requirements such as a college degree or a minimum number of years of work experience.

OpenAI said a person “might thrive” in the role if they have led technical teams; are comfortable making clear, high-stakes technical judgments under uncertainty; can align diverse stakeholders around safety decisions; and have deep technical expertise in machine learning, AI safety, evaluation, security, or adjacent risk domains.

OpenAI’s former head of preparedness, Aleksander Madry, moved into a new role in July 2024. He left a vacancy within the company’s Safety Systems team, which builds evaluations, safety frameworks, and safeguards for its AI models.

Madry has a background in academia, but a seasoned tech-industry executive would be a better fit going forward, said Richard Lachman, a professor of digital media at Toronto Metropolitan University. Academic types, he said, tend to be more cautious and risk-averse.

Lachman expects OpenAI to seek out someone who can protect the company’s public image regarding safety, while allowing it to continue innovating quickly and driving growth. “This is not quite a ‘yes person,’ but somebody who’s going to be on brand,” he said.

OpenAI’s approach to safety has raised concerns internally, prompting some prominent early employees, including a former head of its safety team, to resign. The company has also been sued by some people who allege it reinforces delusions and drives other harmful behavior.

In October, OpenAI acknowledged that some ChatGPT users have exhibited possible signs of mental health problems. The company said it was working with mental health experts to improve how the chatbot responds to those who show signs of psychosis or mania, self-harm or suicide, or emotional attachment.




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