Here's what I heard yesterday when I picked up Axel from his child care center: "He wants to be picked up again. You know what? Your parents don't pay enough for us to pick you up all the time. Get up." This was said to a 20-month-old who'd plopped down on the floor in front of the door to the hallway that leads to the classrooms. It was not a joke. His toddler class had been playing in the gym, and two teachers were herding the group through the lobby and back to their classroom.
I'd just walked into the lobby after making faces at two of the toddlers, who's paused to make blowfish on the glass doors. I don't know if the teacher who made the comment noticed me waiting for the group to cluster and weave down the hallway. Maybe he was having a bad day, maybe he did want to be carried all the time, maybe he was just being a not-quite-two-year-old and being difficult. Maybe she was having a bad day and just wanted to be carried herself.
The teacher was right - we don't pay enough for each of our children to be held constantly. That would mean all the parents would have nannies and one-on-one care for each child, and, umm, they wouldn't be in group care. Rarely are early childhood teachers aren't paid what they're worth.
I can think of lots of reasons why she might have said what she said. But I really don't care. What does matter is that she thinks it's okay to say that to a baby - and if she says that when a parent is around, what's she saying or doing when they aren't?
As I followed them down the hall - this group came from the classroom just beyond Axel's - the other teacher, the quieter teacher who seemed like the (kinder, gentler) assistant teacher talked to a couple stragglers, pointing out a picture of an elephant on the wall and shepherding them along. She seemed like she actually liked kids. Why one would go into childcare - or stay - while resenting babies for being babies I don't know.
I didn't say anything to the teacher - who I've never met and whose name I don't know - or to the director of the school. I just went into Axel's classroom, still a little stunned and mulling over what I'd heard - and picked up Axel from his teachers (who I generally like). I'm not quite sure what to say - I overheard a teacher make a snotty comment? I'd feel like a tattle tale. Also, I assume that the director knows that this particular woman isn't the best or the brightest of her staff. Further complicating the situation: the director is retiring in December, and from what I've seen, the woman has started to check out. She's leaving on a jet plane for a leisurely retirement somewhere she won't have to change any diapers or wipe any noses and the rest of us will have to fend for ourselves.
At the same time, though, I'd sure want someone to say something if that kid was my son. Sure, he wasn't hit or screamed at, but that sort of nasty sarcasm doesn't have a place in the lives of toddlers. Maybe I'm overreacting and she was just venting. I've told Axel he's being a butthead a half a dozen times. But there was something about her tone that made me tighten my jaw. This teacher is in the room that Axel will move to next, once he's over one and walking. That's three months or so away.
There's no way Axel's going to go in that room, with that teacher. He's already on three wait lists for centers that serve children over the age of one or eighteen months. I'm looking at adding him on even more. Some of these wait lists are never ending - we've been one for over a year and a half, and were supposedly going to get a spot last June. But odds are that we'll get one. And if we don't, I'll take a month's vacation or we'll make our budget do some magical rhythmic gymnast type stretching and get a temporary nanny for six months to cover the interim.
Here's what I want: a safe childcare center where kids get outside everyday, do art projects, make messes, have storytime, eat real food, snuggle down for naps, explore the world, and - most importantly - have warm, qualified teachers who love their quirks and their silly baby habits, who kiss them when they fall down and who love it when the babies give them hugs, who tell the kids no when necessary and comfort them when they cry. I still haven't figured out which preschool approach is right for Axel - Montessori or play-based or Waldorf or academic or what have you - and I don't think I'll have it figured out until he's three and a half or so. He's got lots of time to have his days packed with enrichment activities like Japanese lessons or yoga or playing the flute. For now, just a warm, loving, safe place will do - a place where snotty comments get directed at the parents who can stand up for themselves, and not the kids.
Is that too much to ask?