Typical Day
Megan Little is up, showered, and dressed, all by 7:00AM. She catches her reflection in the mirror. Mehhh...she's not wild about the nuclear yellow golf shirt that's part of her daycare job uniform. But, the black knee-shorts she's she gets to wear with it are comfortable and cool. It's sure to be a hot one today, especially on the playground this afternoon.
Oops. 7:20AM already? Megan grabs her keys and water bottle, trying not to wake her roommate as she leaves for work. She hops in her car and sets off for the twenty-five minute drive to Busy Bee Daycare. If traffic isn't too bad this morning she might have time to stop for breakfast. Better yet, she could save her cash and get Mrs. Cooke, the kitchen lady at school, to make her a PB&J.
Luckily, there's no traffic this morning and she got the door code right on the first try. Megan understands that entry control is a must for child safety, but it'd sure be nice if the code were a little shorter.
She clocks in, gets the morning scoop from the receptionist, Mr. Gibson, and heads for the kitchen. Megan decides she'll give Mrs. Cooke a break and not ask her to cut the crusts off her sandwich. After all, she is a grown-up.
PB&J in hand, she walks down the hall toward Mrs. Knight's classroom and thanks her lucky stars for the expert training she's getting. Mrs. K has been a daycare teacher forever. She's like the real-life Mary Poppins. On Megan's first day at Busy Bee, she watched in total awe as Mrs. K taught her lesson on sea creatures while helping a child with a nosebleed, getting a late drop-off settled, and mediating an argument over the alphabet blocks, all at the same time.
While Megan is looking forward to the day when her new classroom is ready, she's very glad to have the time to learn from Mrs. K. It would be amazing to be as unflappable as her mentor.
Megan pauses to brace herself before entering the zoo—er, classroom. She loves working with the kids (most of them, anyway), but she's still adjusting to the avalanche of little ones who pile on her every morning. There are only twelve kids in her classroom, but they all seem to want her undivided attention and affection.
As soon as she opens the door, at least five children jump up and run over to hug her, squealing, "Good morning Miss Megan." Three of them clamp onto her legs. One jumps up and grabs her hand. Another just kind of bounces around her.
Megan smiles and starts extracting herself from the pile of children. "Good morning, everyone. Are you supposed to be jumping up like that? It's important to follow the rules. Look at your friends who're still seated."
"Miss Megan," one of the kids pipes up, "You look like a bee." He tucks his hands under his armpits, imitating wings, and starts running around yelling, "Bzzz. Bzzz."
"I know I do." Megan steers him toward his seat with one hand and waves to Mrs. K with the other. Mrs. K is chuckling, even as she sets a child right-side-up in her chair.
As the kids eat (read: crumble up and play with) their Pop-Tarts at breakfast, Mrs. K tells Megan they'll have an extra break today because it's special classes day. Independent teachers of dance, gymnastics, soccer, and karate come by every two to three weeks and work with the children for an hour and a half (hallelujah). The kids rotate through each class just long enough to go home and beg their parents for lessons.
Breakfast and clean up end. Now it's Circle Time, brought to you by the letter E, the number seven, and the concept of sharing. Oh boy, do the kids ever love the sharing thing. As in, they share what mom and dad fight about, what the neighbors are up to, and whose grandparents are having what medical problems. They share everything.
After the extreme sharing session is over, Megan reads the kids Green Eggs and Ham. There are lots of interruptions from the more inquisitive kids, who haven't yet grasped the concept of waiting to find out what happens.
Just as she's wrapping up the story, a call comes over the intercom to line up. After four quick potty breaks and more hand-washing, Megan escorts the class up the hallway and turns them over to the special classes instructors. Yesssss. Peace, quiet, and a chance to ask Mrs. K to share some of her hard-earned wisdom.
"Mrs. K," Megan says, as she picks up the crayons that have been strewn all across the floor, "What would you say the biggest challenges are in teaching pre-K."
Mrs. K snorts. "Oh, that's easy. The parents."
Megan is perplexed. "You're kidding. You've got twenty tiny chaos machines in one room, none of whom know how to use a tissue, and the parents are your biggest problem?"
"I'm not kidding." Mrs. K snaps the lid on a big Play-Doh tub. "Parents, especially first-time parents, can have a lot of trouble thinking about their kids objectively. You think a pre-schooler's meltdown is bad, you should see an overtired parent's."
"Parents? They can't possibly be losing their cool more than these little creatures."
"Oh they can," Mrs. K sighs. "You've got the parents who feel personally responsible for their kid's every move, who go into a guilty tailspin when the kid does one thing wrong. You see parents who believe their child is the ultimate angel, parents who want to let their kid do whatever they want, and parents who don't pay any attention to their kids in the first place."
Megan thinks about that for a minute. The idea of a parent going into a guilty tailspin over their child not sharing crayons is a little funny; the idea of a parent flat-out ignoring their child isn't.
"People think of us as glorified babysitters," Mrs. K continues, "and they end up treating us that way a lot..,I don't know. I guess I just try to focus on the kids and their needs. Our job is to prepare them for school. We let them choose between blocks and Play-Doh, between markers and crayons, and by the time we send them off to kindergarten, they'll hopefully have gained some independence."
Megan smiles. "Yep, that's definitely why I'm here. I'm glad you've been around the blocks and are here to give me a heads-up."
Mrs. K laughs. "Trust me, I'm still learning too. Kids will never stop surprising you—I guarantee it."
Special classes end at lunch. Next up? Nap time. Since the kids have been running around all morning, Mrs. K and Megan have no problems getting them to sleep today. The extra activity, plus full tummies, equals lights out. Megan could get used to this.
There's always a catch, though. Extra-tired kids often have accidents at nap time—and it's not long before one of them does. Megan sacks up the damp sleeping bags and clothes to send home for cleaning while Mrs. K comforts the near-hysterical child and helps him into the extra outfit that the daycare keeps on hand for just this situation.
After nap time, Mrs. K takes the kids out to recess while Megan bleach-spritzes the cot belonging to the poor kid who had an accident. Then she goes out onto the playground.
Mrs. K is a pro, but she can't handle twelve Energizer Bunnies all on her own. Not only is that not possible, it's not legal. There needs to be a certain ratio of teachers to students, both so that each child can be monitored and so that if something happens, one teacher can get help while the other keeps the students calm.
216,936 questions, nine squabbles, and countless shouts of "Watch me Miss Megan" later, recess ends and it's time for Learning Centers. Megan and Mrs. K divide the kids into four groups of three and rotate them through building blocks, art, dress-up, and reading until it's time to go home. After they're gone, the two adults clean up the classroom. Everything is put away and straightened up.
When Megan finally gets out the door, she is sticky, rumpled, and exhausted. But, the kids love her and she loves them. That makes it all worth it in her book.
On the drive home, she thinks about what she'll make for dinner. The forecast is uncertain, but one thing Megan can predict: There's a zero percent chance of chicken nuggets.