on the one hand, yes, delicate crystal wine glasses that sparkle in the candlelight and gold leaf teacups with matching saucers from a matching pot on a tray with artfully cut fruit and engraved silver teaspoons but also you can have these godawful ugly coffee mugs my students have given me when you pry them from my cold dead hands.
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(one of the kids’ block tower falls over)
Preschooler #1: HOLY SHIT!
Lead Teacher and I: (jaws drop) Uh, no, no, we don’t use that word-
Preschooler #2, oblivious to the fact we heard it: (gasps) MISS. C, MISS. S! HE SAID HOLY SHIT!
Us: NO!
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This week has been a lot. My co teacher has been out all week so Monday through Wednesday they had my most anxiety-inducing coworker in my classroom and I straight up had to be like hey please stop putting her in my room, so I now have one of the newish girls in my room and she's great but she needs a lot of instruction still and she doesn't know the kids and their schedule super well. But on top of all of this I have to get ready for conferences (I hate conferences) and there's a bulletin board in my room that needs updating and I literally have no extra time. And the two kids that I thought were moving to the next room on Monday aren't going until the following Monday which is stressful because the one little boy is so ready and needs more challenge and to be with kids his own size. Anyway rant over.
I remember when I couldn't even stand people talking about the problems they had with their children on a radio show because I was so overloaded with stress about the 20+ children at the daycare I was parenting*. (* What daycare is these days.) I would legitimately get so angry and turn it off for the rest of the ride because I didn't want to hear anything anymore. And I had an hour drive to get home.
I would lay down for sleep and try to do my nightly routines and my mind would play back any sound I'd heard that day, their screaming, the tiny voices shouting my name and their whining. I'd try to do things for stress relief, and needed headphones to separate my mind, to avoid replaying the songs in my head that had to be played all day, because stereo player silence was not looked positively on by management or auditors.
I remember being so sick of the mascots and insisting to the children that they were real, and these characters were the reason for art and music and why we study them. I felt like I was experiencing Corporate Hell and brainwashing three year olds to talk to a plastic sticker on the wall of a mascot when I didn't have time to interact with them. We were encouraged to use that tactic often, when a child would come to us to interrupt, not knowing better of patience.
The main mascot was used as a moral guidepost, however vague.
Everything below the cut is what the tags are about.
I had a parent who told me he was surprised his five year old son was still dressed when he came to pick him up- because at his old daycare, they left him undress whenever.
I never had stress like the day I reported to CPS about a child who'd did and said things that no one his age group should even know about. That child knew evil and it was present in his eyes. I have never wanted violence so desperately, to kill what he had been made into before he got to hurt more people. I wanted to kill a five year old boy and the human creature that turned him into this .His family could die too, the entire bloodline as far as I was concerned. I wanted the satisfaction that I could not have years ago, to kill the one that had possessed someone I'd loved and adored years ago, that was now infested in this child that I could see perfect dullness in his dead eyes. They had no life in them, and I wanted to be the one to be the one who stopped the flow of blood to his diseased mind. I saved many young minds from trauma by resisting that urge in front of them. He was transferred by his parents to a different school.
The day I vented about it to my friend, I was so distracted talking to the phone in the passenger seat, I rear ended someone, and wrecked my vehicle so badly it was undrivable. Everyone was uninjured. It was ruled an accident due to the slick roads. I still think that pickup driver was texting at a green light.
Weeks before I decided I would quit, I sat out beside a large bush next to a fast food place, and tears escaped before I knew why they were coming. I laid in the dirt until it was time to go clock in. A week before, I had had a panic attack terrible enough to take myself to the hospital, afraid what I would do if given the chance to run into traffic .
I bought myself a new shirt on the first day after the hospital, because I was told to be around people, for my own safety. For the days I took to recover, I bought myself a print of that one Louis Wainwright painting , " I am happy because everyone loves me." and framed it a month later.
I don't know that I'm strong enough anymore to handle having children of my own. I think I might be the best example of a person who should not have any. I think I'll be surgically sterilized as soon as possible.
I'm better now. I very truly love the job I'm at. But I know my limits more intimately than I ever thought I could. And I'm never putting myself in a situation again where I'm doing the emotional labor for parents and employers who throw money and gifts at me.