Fairmont Early Childhood Education

02/07/2023

“I am 2. I am not terrible…I am frustrated. I am nervous, stressed out, overwhelmed, and confused. I need a hug.”

From the diary of a 2-year-old:

Today I woke up and wanted to get dressed by myself but was told “No, we don’t have time, let me do it.”

This made me sad.

I wanted to feed myself for breakfast but was told,
“No, you’re too messy, let me do it for you.”

This made me feel frustrated.

I wanted to walk to the car and get in on my own but was told, “No, we need to get going, we don’t have time. Let me do it.”

This made me cry.

I wanted to get out of the car on my own but was told “No, we don’t have time, let me do it.”

This made me want to run away.

Later I wanted to play with blocks but was told “no, not like that, like this…”

I decided I didn’t want to play with blocks anymore. I wanted to play with a doll that someone else had, so I took it. I was told “No, don’t do that! You have to share.”

I’m not sure what I did, but it made me sad. So I cried. I wanted a hug but was told “No, you’re fine, go play”.

I’m being told it’s time to pick up. I know this because someone keeps saying, “Go pick up your toys.”

I am not sure what to do, I am waiting for someone to show me.

“What are you doing? Why are you just standing there? Pick up your toys, now!”

I was not allowed to dress myself or move my own body to get to where I needed to go, but now I am being asked to pick things up.

I’m not sure what to do. Is someone supposed to show me how to do this? Where do I start? Where do these things go? I am hearing a lot of words but I do not understand what is being asked of me. I am scared and do not move.

I lay down on the floor and cry.

When it was time to eat I wanted to get my own food but was told “no, you’re too little. Let me do it.”

This made me feel small. I tried to eat the food in front of me but I did not put it there and someone keeps saying “Here, try this, eat this…” and putting things in my face.

I didn’t want to eat anymore. This made me want to throw things and cry.

I can’t get down from the table because no one will let me…because I’m too small and I can’t. They keep saying I have to take a bite. This makes me cry more. I’m hungry and frustrated and sad. I’m tired and I need someone to hold me. I do not feel safe or in control. This makes me scared. I cry even more.

I am 2. No one will let me dress myself, no one will let me move my own body where it needs to go, no one will let me attend to my own needs.

However, I am expected to know how to share, “listen”, or “wait a minute”. I am expected to know what to say and how to act or handle my emotions. I am expected to sit still or know that if I throw something it might break….But, I do NOT know these things.

I am not allowed to practice my skills of walking, pushing, pulling, zipping, buttoning, pouring, serving, climbing, running, throwing or doing things that I know I can do. Things that interest me and make me curious, these are the things I am NOT allowed to do.

I am 2. I am not terrible…I am frustrated. I am nervous, stressed out, overwhelmed, and confused. I need a hug.

*edited to add: I have finally identified the author! Thank you, Dejah Roman for your POWERFUL words*

07/17/2022

07/16/2022

Child care teachers rarely realize just how important they are in childrens lives, as well as their parents.

Our daycare provider is so much more than just a babysitter, she provides a second home for our kids and loves them so well.

02/12/2022

09/27/2021

Phonics, reading, math and more!

08/25/2021

08/22/2021

Six years ago, I considered going back to school to get a certificate in elementary education. I thought teaching would be a pretty sweet gig, with summers off to spend with my kids.

I got a job working as a substitute teacher in our district, with kids in grades K-8. Figured I should “test the waters” a bit. And boy, am I glad I did. Because those waters are deep. And ROUGH. And you pretty much need to be an Olympic Swimmer to remain there. Which, I quickly realized, I am not.

I am patient. I am kind. I adore children. But I am NOT a superhero. And quite frankly, THAT is what it takes to be a teacher today.

It takes knowing exactly what to do when the “tough” kid walks into your classroom with tears in his eyes because his dog died last night.

It takes knowing exactly the right way to help a child who struggles desperately in math, without destroying their self-confidence.

It takes maintaining your composure when 27 children, at 27 reading levels, with 27 different personalities, are all vying for your attention at the same time.

It takes having a strong stomach, because you will be dealing with puke, and blood, and boogers (SO many boogers), and all kinds of other gross things.

It takes knowing how to discipline without causing embarrassment.

It takes being able to handle a constant level of noise that would make most people’s head spin.

It takes being able to handle your heart breaking when you see an innocent child hurting from a difficult family situation that you are powerless to change.

It takes being able to appear confident when you have no idea what the answer is.

It takes knowing exactly when and how to intervene when you see a child being ostracized by their peers.

It takes being able to maintain a straight face when a child says something inappropriate, but hilarious.

It takes nerves of steel when you hear that emergency alarm go off, knowing that you alone are responsible for the safety of these children.

It takes being able to go home with enough energy for your own kids after an exhausting day of wrangling a classroom full of other people’s kids.

It takes giving it your all, for the short time they are yours, knowing that what you say, what you do, and what you model, may have an impact on that child for the rest of their life.

Because I bet every single one of us can name our 2nd grade teacher.

And to this day, a few times a month, I stroll through the school entrance to sub a class or two, unburdened by lesson plans, test scores, and emails from parents. I do my best to fill their shoes for a few hours. And I am humbled by the task.

Because those teachers? Their cars are already in the parking lot when I arrive in the mornings, and remain in that parking lot long after I leave for the day. I see them taking work home at night, on the weekends, and over breaks. Like I said...superheroes.

So today, if you get a minute, thank a teacher. For caring about our kids. For shaping the future generation. For doing what most of us cannot. ❤️

*We loved this post from our friend at I Might Be Funny

Hey friends! We think you’ll love our new book So God Made a Grandma. Get your copy here: https://herviewfromhome.com/so-god-made-a-grandma/

02/15/2021

Wondering what to do with all of the new snow? Make a Snow Volcano!

02/07/2021