My daughters' last day at their childcare center is next week. After that, our oldest will be in "big school", and our youngest will stay home with me. Though I am eagerly anticipating our family's new adventures, I am also sad and nervous about the days to come. With a few short exceptions, my children have stayed at this preschool since they were seven and nine weeks old, respectively. It will be strange to walk out the doors of the facility that became their home away from home for the final time.
Some people see daycare as a detriment to children. While I don't believe that every childcare center is quality or that anyone can be trusted to care for kids, our girls' preschool has proven that exceptional care can be found. This place has been a blessing beyond words.
For primarily financial reasons but also some personal ones, I have needed to work throughout the past four years of our kids' lives. Thankfully, I have not had to worry about their well-being for a single day after I've dropped them off with their teachers.
Piper and Caroline have blossomed at their center. Their development and character are ultimately my responsibility, but both of their teachers have partnered with us to help them become the spunky, curious, sweet, smart, and loving girls that they are.
Teaching (because that's what it is, not babysitting) at a childcare center requires skill. The average four-year-old asks 400 questions per day, but even the little ones who don't ask questions yet poop their diapers, fuss, refuse to take naps, spit their food out, destroy things, and engage in other similar sorts of mischief. Not only are childcare workers simultaneously dealing with all of this times eight to ten, but they are also training the children to be kind, to play with toys appropriately, to identify all of their letters and numbers, and to make wise choices.
At times, I am impatient with my own two children. Our girls' teachers perhaps become impatient with them, too, but they do not show it by raising their voices or inflicting punishments not fit for the crime, as I do embarrassingly often at home. I can also be lazy about teaching them important academic and life skills, while the girls' teachers are tirelessly intentional and persistent. And people say that anyone could do their job.
Though I have paid for childcare, payment alone does not entitle me to the extraordinary standards that I hold. Yes, their teachers have been required to check their diapers every hour, to make sure that their classrooms never exceed the established student-teacher ratio, and to follow a specific curriculum and schedule.
They didn't have to bend over backward when my kids have had rough adjustments to new classrooms. They didn't have to read books on the floor with them, hug them as I dropped them off the in mornings, send me pictures of their days while I've been away, or volunteer to babysit them outside of school hours.
They didn't have to love my girls. But they have, and they've done those parts for free.
Piper and Caroline may never remember Miss Barbara, Miss Sierra, Miss Michelle, Miss Shelby, Miss Nicole, Miss Tamara, Miss Eliana, or Miss Tracey, but I will. Our family is forever indebted to these ladies who have made it possible for me to leave my precious little ones for a few hours each day, knowing that they will be happy.
If your child attends a daycare, hug her teacher. Daycare workers do a big job.