Same old story

Tonight, on my way home from work, I got a call from Kate's teacher, Tricia, who's also the director of the little daycare center Kate's been attending for two-and-a-half years.

I was kind of alarmed when I heard Tricia's voice. Because she never, never calls unless there's an emergency. But all she said was, "Hey, are you going to Skyline tonight?" Skyline is a little local restaurant that we frequent most Wednesday nights. Kids eat free on Wednesdays, plus there's a craft table for the little ones, plus several other friends and their families join us. It's our Wednesday thing. Tricia knows she has a standing invitation to meet us at Skyline on Wednesdays, but she almost never does.

So I knew something was up when she said she wanted to join us. Shit, shit, shit.

And sure enough, about halfway through dinner, she dropped it on me: she's leaving the center in two weeks to take a director position at another daycare. Slightly better pay, slightly better hours. She'll miss my kid terribly, etc., etc. I know the spiel by heart.

So I said: "I'm happy for you, but very sad for all of us parents. And for Kate. And for the other kids."

This is what I always say. What I've said a million times before to a million great daycare teachers to whom my kids have grown attached. To whom I've grown attached. A couple of times, I've cried during this parting. Or the teacher has cried. One time, about a year ago, we both hung on each other and sobbed.

But this time, I was just...stoic. I've gotten so used to this situation.

Later tonight, Kate, Anna, and I were counting up all the teachers we could remember who've left in the two-and-a-half years that we've been at our current daycare, a tiny little intergenerational care facility that only takes 16 kids. (It's intergenerational because it exists inside a nursing home; every afternoon, the kids visit the nursing home residents.) Anna and I came up with 8 names in about 30 seconds flat, and then the names of a couple more very short-lived teachers re-surfaced in our memories. I'm sure there are others we were forgetting.

And that's just at our current daycare. For four years before this one, we were at another center--a huge, multi-classroom center--where teachers would come in and out like...I don't know...the only simile that comes to mind is the cliche of the revolving door. Most of those teachers were kind and loving and dedicated. But they were always on the lookout for a better wage, a lower teacher-kid ratio, more flexible hours. And who can blame them?

When I think of the number of women (because, really, there's only been one man in all those years) who've gone in and out of my children's lives...it's just heart-breaking. And guilt-inducing, of course. When I think of the number of women who've had to re-start one childcare job after another...well, that's just heartbreaking too.

I don't know what the solution is. Unionization of daycare workers? A complete overhaul (ha) of the childcare system in this county? What else?