There is a lovely and well-meaning article that has been making the social media rounds recently entitled To My Baby's Day Care Teacher, found on the Oklahoma City Mom's Blog. My first reaction was in line with most childcare providers; we are seen! We are appreciated! Working 9 to 12 hour days for minimum wage is worthwhile!
Then I realized that as a field, early childhood educators could be both emotionally appreciated and appropriately compensated. As a (former) family child care home operator, I was open from 7 AM to 5:30 PM, with about 30-45 minutes on each side for preparation and tear-down. I planned my weeks on Saturdays and Sundays, typically grocery and supply shopping for 3-4 hours and planning for an additional 3-4 hours. My personal time off was limited to one week per calendar year and three sick days. This was more generous to myself than many providers, who don't take vacations or sick days. For this, I was compensated about $4/hour (depending on the number of children enrolled and number of staff to be paid, this number varied between $2 and $7), because supplies and groceries and staff don't pay for themselves. As a center employee, I was at least compensated legally for my time on-site, but still expected to put in unpaid time planning, cleaning, contacting families, and organizing. Not doing this would put my job at risk, as we were supposedly allotted enough planning time to accomplish all of these activities. To be perfectly clear, I love my chosen profession. I just wish I and my peers could be compensated as professionals.
Child care is inherently a feminist issue; when your workforce is 96% female, you kind of find yourself at the center of some issues that male-dominated fields don't face. With turnover rates that vary by setting but can get as high as 50-80% in a single year, employees in childcare may not have the chance to be well-trained by experienced supervisors, as these supervisors are often classroom teachers who have lasted the longest. To be clear, not all (or necessarily most) of this turnover can be attributed to professionals taking positions in other settings. Many leave the field to pursue higher paid work as administrative assistants, CNAs, or restaurant servers. Mothers decide whether or not to return to work based less on professional goals and more on whether or not their income will adequately cover care for the child. Spoiler alert: many employees in early care and education settings will choose to stay home, because they aren't compensated enough to pay for care for their own children. Somehow the father's income is much less frequently placed on the line, regardless of industry.
Child care is poorly regulated. We have state licensing standards, of course, and Quality Rating and Improvement Systems. But these are often implemented in a manner that allows for dangerous deficits in quality of caregivers. The line, "you earn minimum wage while you try to save up for your next dream. Maybe you're saving so you can go to college, start your own business, or buy a better car" gets straight to the crux of the issue. We are not seen as professionals. We are seen as "glorified babysitters" (or just babysitters), spending time in one cuddly job in between pursuing higher education or shifts in a factory or other line of work. I cannot count the number of times my college-educated auto-didactic professional peers have been asked "When will you be a real teacher?" or "What do you do when you're not babysitting?" or "Will you be doing this much longer?" My strong distaste for being called either teacher or babysitter notwithstanding, these all imply an inherent lack of respect. But when centers begin to relax standards to get bodies in rooms to meet licensing ratio minimums, is it any surprise that some of them are dangerously under-qualified?
Of course, many of these problems could be mitigated by demonstrating longevity and expertise in the field, but these would require budgets for annual merit-based wage increases as well as tuition assistance. How are parents, already too frequently on shoestring budgets and choosing between paying for childcare or paying the electric bill on time, supposed to swallow these costs too? Adding early childhood education and childcare to the public school system seems like one method, though this too has its drawbacks (see: poor regulation).
The original article ends with a sentiment that warms even my (really, only slightly) bitter heart. "You are like the building blocks my son loves to play with- adaptable, colorful, and full of potential. Your job is the most important job in the entire world, and I know I don't thank you enough." At the end of the day, most individual parents (looking at you, Zuckerberg) really can't bear more of a financial burden than they are already under. But they can begin by assuming that we are trained professionals in a workforce that strives to improve, day by day, person by person. They can partner with us, donate empty paper towel rolls (and the occasional full tissue box), spend some time in our programs, work with our supervisors to ensure that the people caring for their children are not just saving to go to college or on their next adventure, but are people doing their own life's work in a field that just doesn't have enough to go around.
Then I realized that as a field, early childhood educators could be both emotionally appreciated and appropriately compensated. As a (former) family child care home operator, I was open from 7 AM to 5:30 PM, with about 30-45 minutes on each side for preparation and tear-down. I planned my weeks on Saturdays and Sundays, typically grocery and supply shopping for 3-4 hours and planning for an additional 3-4 hours. My personal time off was limited to one week per calendar year and three sick days. This was more generous to myself than many providers, who don't take vacations or sick days. For this, I was compensated about $4/hour (depending on the number of children enrolled and number of staff to be paid, this number varied between $2 and $7), because supplies and groceries and staff don't pay for themselves. As a center employee, I was at least compensated legally for my time on-site, but still expected to put in unpaid time planning, cleaning, contacting families, and organizing. Not doing this would put my job at risk, as we were supposedly allotted enough planning time to accomplish all of these activities. To be perfectly clear, I love my chosen profession. I just wish I and my peers could be compensated as professionals.
Child care is inherently a feminist issue; when your workforce is 96% female, you kind of find yourself at the center of some issues that male-dominated fields don't face. With turnover rates that vary by setting but can get as high as 50-80% in a single year, employees in childcare may not have the chance to be well-trained by experienced supervisors, as these supervisors are often classroom teachers who have lasted the longest. To be clear, not all (or necessarily most) of this turnover can be attributed to professionals taking positions in other settings. Many leave the field to pursue higher paid work as administrative assistants, CNAs, or restaurant servers. Mothers decide whether or not to return to work based less on professional goals and more on whether or not their income will adequately cover care for the child. Spoiler alert: many employees in early care and education settings will choose to stay home, because they aren't compensated enough to pay for care for their own children. Somehow the father's income is much less frequently placed on the line, regardless of industry.
Child care is poorly regulated. We have state licensing standards, of course, and Quality Rating and Improvement Systems. But these are often implemented in a manner that allows for dangerous deficits in quality of caregivers. The line, "you earn minimum wage while you try to save up for your next dream. Maybe you're saving so you can go to college, start your own business, or buy a better car" gets straight to the crux of the issue. We are not seen as professionals. We are seen as "glorified babysitters" (or just babysitters), spending time in one cuddly job in between pursuing higher education or shifts in a factory or other line of work. I cannot count the number of times my college-educated auto-didactic professional peers have been asked "When will you be a real teacher?" or "What do you do when you're not babysitting?" or "Will you be doing this much longer?" My strong distaste for being called either teacher or babysitter notwithstanding, these all imply an inherent lack of respect. But when centers begin to relax standards to get bodies in rooms to meet licensing ratio minimums, is it any surprise that some of them are dangerously under-qualified?
Of course, many of these problems could be mitigated by demonstrating longevity and expertise in the field, but these would require budgets for annual merit-based wage increases as well as tuition assistance. How are parents, already too frequently on shoestring budgets and choosing between paying for childcare or paying the electric bill on time, supposed to swallow these costs too? Adding early childhood education and childcare to the public school system seems like one method, though this too has its drawbacks (see: poor regulation).
The original article ends with a sentiment that warms even my (really, only slightly) bitter heart. "You are like the building blocks my son loves to play with- adaptable, colorful, and full of potential. Your job is the most important job in the entire world, and I know I don't thank you enough." At the end of the day, most individual parents (looking at you, Zuckerberg) really can't bear more of a financial burden than they are already under. But they can begin by assuming that we are trained professionals in a workforce that strives to improve, day by day, person by person. They can partner with us, donate empty paper towel rolls (and the occasional full tissue box), spend some time in our programs, work with our supervisors to ensure that the people caring for their children are not just saving to go to college or on their next adventure, but are people doing their own life's work in a field that just doesn't have enough to go around.
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