08/15/2026
I woke up feeling defeated today.
Childcare is hard. And, if I’m being completely honest, it feels like it is getting harder.
Burnout is real.
Yesterday, while I was at camp, an altercation escalated to the point where I was hurt. The children who witnessed it were scared, and I left the situation feeling frustrated, overwhelmed and, honestly, sad.
Not just because of what happened yesterday, but because it feels like yesterday was a reflection of a much bigger issue that we are seeing across childcare.
I am frustrated with a system that does not always provide families with the resources and supports they desperately need. I am frustrated for the educators who are navigating increasingly complex behaviours and situations while trying to ensure that every child in their care feels safe, seen, valued and supported.
And I am sad that honest conversations between childcare professionals and families seem to be getting harder.
We know that it is difficult for a parent to hear that their child had a challenging day. Nobody wants to hear that their child struggled with listening, regulating their emotions, respecting boundaries or interacting appropriately with others.
But those conversations are important.
They are not an attack on your child. They are not an attack on your parenting. They are an opportunity for us to work together.
Our staff are trying to manage classrooms where listening can sometimes feel like a thing of the past, where disrespect is becoming more common, and where behaviours can escalate quickly. At the same time, they are expected to provide meaningful learning experiences, build relationships, support emotional regulation, document observations, communicate with families and make sure every child receives the attention they deserve.
And we are doing all of this in a world that has changed dramatically.
Children are growing up surrounded by technology, screens and constant stimulation. We simply cannot compete with the immediate gratification that technology provides. A screen does not have to ask a child to wait their turn. It does not need them to listen to a direction. It does not ask them to share, compromise, regulate their emotions or navigate a disagreement with another person.
But childhood still requires all of those things.
Our job is not to compete with technology. Our job is to teach children the skills that technology cannot teach them: how to connect, communicate, problem-solve, regulate, empathize, listen and build relationships.
And we need families to help us do that.
What are we doing for the people doing this work?
I think about this a lot.
Ontario has worked hard to make childcare more affordable and accessible for families, and that is important. Families deserve access to affordable childcare.
But what are we doing for the people actually providing that care?
The Government of Ontario's current CWELCC wage floor for eligible RECE program staff is $25.86 per hour in 2026. That is an improvement from where the sector has been, but when you look at the broader picture, the federal Job Bank currently reports a median Ontario wage of $22/hour for RECEs, based on 2023–2024 Labour Force Survey data.
These are people who have gone to school, completed professional training and entered a field that carries an enormous amount of responsibility, for very little money.
They are responsible for the safety, development, learning and well-being of other people's children.
And yet, compensation has historically not reflected the importance or complexity of the work.
At our centre, 75% of our staff are parents themselves.
Think about that for a moment.
They spend their day helping other people's children learn, grow, communicate, regulate and navigate the world—and then they go home and do it all over again with their own children until bedtime.
They give so much of themselves.
Do we always recognize that?
Do families know how much learning happens in a childcare classroom?
Do they know how much thought goes into planning an environment, supporting a child's development, redirecting behaviour, helping a child regulate after a difficult moment or simply sitting beside a child who needs someone to be there?
Our educators play a pivotal role in the early years of a child's life.
They are not babysitters.
They are professionals.
By 2027, every staff member at our Main Site will either be an RECE or actively working toward becoming one. That means that every member of that team is pursuing the education and professional knowledge needed to provide high-quality early learning experiences for the children in our care.
I am incredibly proud of that.
And I am incredibly protective of my staff.
I care deeply about them. I want them to stay. I want them to feel valued. I want them to feel respected. I want them to feel like the work they do matters.
Because it does.
But we cannot do this alone.
We often say, "It takes a village to raise a child."
We believe that.
But the village has to show up.
Over the past year, we have heard things like:
"You're the ones who are educated. You figure out the solution."
"We pay you to deal with these things."
"We don't see that at home, so I'm not sure what you want us to do."
"Are you sure it was my child?"
"It's developmental."
"Have you tried a timeout?"
We understand that children can behave very differently at home than they do in a group setting.
We understand that.
But just because a behaviour isn't happening at home doesn't mean that it isn't happening at childcare, and it doesn't mean that it doesn't deserve a conversation.
When a child spends eight or more hours a day with us, we learn things about them. We notice patterns. We see what happens before a behaviour. We learn what helps them regulate. We learn what triggers frustration. We learn what motivates them and what makes them feel successful.
We aren't asking parents to have all the answers.
We are asking parents to be part of the conversation.
When we say, "We're struggling with this," what we need is not defensiveness.
We need curiosity.
We need partnership.
We need to be able to say, "Okay. This is what you're seeing. This is what we're seeing. How can we work together?"
We also need to talk about what children are hearing and seeing.
Children are sponges.
They hear everything.
They repeat everything.
Sometimes the first words we hear from a toddler aren't exactly the words we hoped they'd learn.
And yes, sometimes they are swear words.
Children will hear things at home, in the community, on television, online and from other children. Nobody is perfect, and we are not expecting perfection from families. We understand that words slip. We understand that life happens.
But we also need to recognize that what children are exposed to eventually makes its way into our classrooms.
And then our educators are left navigating the consequences.
The same is true of technology, social media, language, conflict and the behaviours children see modelled around them.
We cannot control everything a child experiences outside of our doors.
But we can work together to help them understand what is appropriate, what is respectful and how we treat the people around us.
We need parents to meet us halfway.
When a staff member reaches out about a difficult day, please don't automatically hear criticism.
Hear a professional saying, "I care about your child, and I want to help them succeed."
When we bring something to your attention, we are not trying to label your child.
We are trying to understand your child.
When we ask for your input, it isn't because we don't know what we're doing.
It is because you know your child in ways that we don't, and we know your child in ways that you may not get to see.
That combination can be incredibly powerful.
We want to approach every situation with empathy, kindness and understanding. We talk extensively with our staff about how we communicate with families because we want our families to feel respected and heard.
But that respect has to go both ways.
We are tired.
We are trying.
We are showing up every day.
We are navigating bigger behaviours, changing expectations, increased stimulation, technology, staffing pressures and the enormous responsibility of caring for other people's children.
And we are doing it because we love these children.
We need our families to understand that.
We need you to support our educators.
We need you to talk to your children about kindness, respect, listening, appropriate language, boundaries and how to treat others.
We need you to reinforce the skills we are working on here.
We need you to believe us when we tell you that something is happening.
We need you to ask questions instead of becoming defensive.
We need you to understand that "developmentally appropriate" does not mean "we don't need to address it."
And most importantly, we need a partnership.
There are many childcare options in Saugeen Shores, and we understand that our centre may not be the right fit for every family. That's okay. Families should choose a program that aligns with their values, expectations and parenting philosophy.
But as a centre, we also have the right to ask our families for buy-in.
We have the right to ask for respect.
We have the right to ask for communication.
We have the right to ask families to participate in supporting their child's success.
Because childcare is not something we can do to families.
It is something we have to do with them.
I don't want to lose the incredible educators who work beside me because they are burnt out.
I don't want good people leaving this profession because they feel undervalued, unheard or unsupported.
And I don't want children to lose the educators who love them, teach them, comfort them, challenge them and celebrate them every single day.
So today, I am asking our families for something very simple:
Meet us halfway.
We will continue to show up for your children.
We will continue to learn.
We will continue to adapt.
We will continue to have the hard conversations.
We will continue to care.
But we cannot do it alone.
It really does take a village.
We just need the village to show up.
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