There was this feeling of dread, like one of those deep pits in your stomach as you take your first few steps into a haunted house. Even if it’s only for a second, its still there. That feeling like you know something is might go wrong, but you just can’t figure out what it is.
Only I new what was wrong… I knew exactly why I felt that way. I knew I hated the idea and yet knew it was in his best interest. Even still, walking though the door and having to be buzzed in, put me on the other side of the fear that goes through every parent’s mind as they leave their child in the care of someone else.
My mind slowly began to shift from dad mode to administrative mode… The words flowed from my lips like water from a hose… “What is your security procedure for entering the building?” “Do you practice fire drills and lock down drills.” How often do you check that your doors are locked?” “Are your staff members trained in CPR/First Aid?”
A reassuring look from the wife told me I needed to take a deep breath and listen to what the woman had to say. Problem is, I didn’t care what she had to say. I could find fault with Mother Theresa if she was sitting across from me explaining how she would care for my child.
I wasn’t happy with the “curriculum” (he’s one), I didn’t like knowing he had to nap later than he usual does (kids at my school learn to do it without any problem), I was completely enraged when I saw the back door wide open (mistakes happen and become a learning experience). Again, I wasn’t happy because I don’t think I wanted to be happy.
You’ve heard the horror stories… Kids getting fed mass quantities of NyQuil to shut them up, people picking up the wrong kids, kids being abused… Hell I work in a school named after a student who was tragically killed at Sandy Hook Elementary School. I know the dangers, I work tirelessly everyday to ensure the safety of the children in my building as if they were my own.
Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe I know too much; I’ve seen too much on my end to allow myself to relax. Then again, I don’t want to think I’ve left any stone unturned when it comes to Jackson.
Im an educator of young children; I have been my entire life. I have convinced numerous parents the benefits of early childhood education, if not for the academics than simply for the social skills and language development that is gained from being surrounded by peers. I have studied research on the brain and philosophies of how young children learn. I can rattle off the increased background knowledge and character development that students gain from structured social interactions away from their parents. I’ve seen first hand parents who are were just like me before the school year started and convinced them we would take care of their most precious possession in the world.
That feeling of dread that permeated throughout my entire body that day, only increases as the we creep closer to the possibility of leaving Jackson at a daycare facility. (Even just typing that caused a knot in my stomach). It could be for 1/2 a day once a week… I’m still not sure I’m going to be OK with this.