What Your Daycare Teacher Would Say…

Diaper slinging, nose wiping, back rubbing and sneeze catching is the name of the game when you work in childcare. It’s terribly exhausting as you’d might imagine, our feet are sore, our emotions are empty. It’s just how it is. Typically you get into this kind of work for the love of it all… you typically don’t for the pay. While we are usually not compensated nearly as well for our time as we should be, here are some things that you should bear in mind that would make ALL of our lives a little easier. Rather, here’s all the things I would say to you if I didn’t fear the wrath of my boss. **This post is toddler specific**

  1. I loathe lace up shoes, specifically: converse (ESPECIALLY high tops) and baby Jordan’s. They might be the cutest thing to happen to you since the second your screaming demon seed crawled out of you but they are quite literally the bane of my existence. I have 12 toddlers under my care… are you under the illusion that I’ve got all the time in the world to tie up your kids asshole fucking shoes? You know what toddlers aren’t great at? Helping me get their chubby little feet into incomprehensibly difficult shoes. What starts off as happy, willing assistance turns into me screaming on the inside and smiling like the joker on the outside.

    converse
    “Aww but look they come in pink.” Fuck your face.
  2. Pull ups. Like don’t even get me started. JUST KIDDING IM ALREADY STARTED. Your kid not even ready to potty train? Why are you sending them in pull ups? I have a perfected system of diaper slinging. A system that is profoundly slowed down when I have to deal with the bullshit that is pull ups. But do you know what really makes me want to light your house afire with all of you inside? When you send me the pull ups that don’t conveniently open on the sides for easier changing. So every time I change your kid I not only have to take off his/her pants, but I also have to take off their shoes, and they better be god damn velcro shoes or I’m going AWOL.
  3. Speaking of potty training. I actually don’t have the fucking time to take your kid every 30 minutes, hell, every hour to sit on the potty and sing a happy song and hopefully they’ll do something. If you think I’m capable of potty training 12 kids at the same time, and then get righteously offended when your asshole has an accident, why don’t you take a fucking hike and hire a nanny. I’m busy. Incomprehensibly busy. A level of busy that I just don’t think you fully appreciate, Linda. So why don’t you come and do my job for a week before you tell me that I’m not taking Little Nathan to the potty enough. When your kid is ready to say “I. Need. To. Pee.” I’ll take them.

    image10
    Potty training is why Teacher has an unmanageable Vicodin addiction.
  4. These. Gloves. I’m not impressed when you send this bullshit to daycare. On a GOOD day, toddlers can figure out their thumbs. And thats like … a solid nap, high spirits, not mentally deranged teacher, good day. How do you expect them to figure out how to get their tiny little fingers into all of these separate compartments? Oh you just thought that I would do that? What with the other 11 children in the background laying on top of each other biting, snotting and spiting all over the place? You thought wrong ass face. Do you also want to know something else? The SECOND these piece of shit gloves touch water the river nile is running off of them. Effective? As effective as my filter after half a bottle of wine. gloves
  5. Sending them to daycare in a gown that was blessed by the Queen is surely the quickest way for it to turn into a pile of shit. I’ll ALWAYS do my best to throw bibs at them in a fury, but often I forget because usually there are 4 crying, 2 of them shitty and 1 of them biting someone else. And sometimes, they get their booger-y fingers into the markers/paint/anything that stains and rub it on themselves intentionally, likely just to spite me. Do us all a favour, if you’re having family photos after just let me know, so that I can take off their tiny bow tie and save it for after they pour the paint over their heads.
  6. Yes. Your kids an asshole. Sometimes, I wanna punch him in his/her little asshole face. I think that’s a natural feeling with toddlers. S/He runs when they’re not supposed to, they bite other kids, they throw shit and laugh right in my fucking face, they choke hold other children because the other children have a toy they want. They’re assholes. And like any good group of solid assholes, they feed off of each other and enhance each other’s awful habits. You think your kid is like LITERALLY a drop of heaven? Blessed by angels and baby Jesus himself? Think-a-fucking-gain. If you’re hanging on to that distorted reality, your kid is LIKELY the worst one.
  7. Can you take your kids crap home? The piles and piles of art, old socks, winter boots when it’s the middle of summer and did I mention art? I don’t what it. You’re supposed to keep it for some kind of scrapbook so it looks like you gave a shit. Wanna know a secret? If you don’t pick it up within a reasonable time frame, I throw it the fuck out.
  8. Can you also bring a second change of clothes? They barf often, poop everywhere, spill absolutely everything. I don’t want to give you a set of daycare clothes because I know that I’ll literally never see them ever again. Because you never bring them back, I have a severely depleted supply of clothing to split between 12 toddlers. Be a better person and bring a spare set of clothes. messy
  9. If you don’t label it, I’m not responsible for it, and fuck your hat if you try and blame me even remotely for it. Do you know how many people shop at the Oshkosh store? So sue me for the fact that I can’t distinguish between two of the same $700 sweater. SUE ME. Between everyone having the same shit and toddlers favourite game of pulling stuff out of one cubby and putting it into a different one… I can’t keep track of everything. So again, I tell you, don’t be an asshole, get out a sharpie in-between hiding from your kids in the garage and label the fucking shit.

Lastly, sometimes a thank you is really all that’s needed to know that the emotional toil and physical pain we just put ourselves through wasn’t for naught. It goes a long way and makes the boogers, sweat and poop all seem a little less terrible. (SOMETIMES NOT THOUGH)

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