People often ask me exactly what I do at my job, and I find it difficult to explain. To sum it up, I supervise the teachers of 15 preschool classrooms. In reality, it includes so much more than that. There is a lot of paperwork, a lot of quality control, and even more surprises and minute-to-minute management.
Friday was one of my long days, meaning that I start work at 8am, which is when the teachers arrive, and I close the building at 6:30pm when the last teacher and child from the extended hours program leaves. And boy, did I plan to get a lot of paperwork done during those many hours. I planned to do so much paperwork that I decided to wear a white shirt. I decided to wear a white shirt that I had been so excited to buy and had avoided wearing for weeks because I was afraid to mess it up. I wore that beautiful, soft-wash, button-down, bright white shirt on Friday.
White Shirt Hazard #1: I joined two coworkers for chocolate chocolate chip pancakes and coffee before work.
White Shirt Hazard #2: In the reception area, I worked with the receptionist to contact each classroom to find out how many students they had in each room (an every day task). While tapping my pen on my chin as I thought about how to provide enough teacher coverage in those rooms, I wrote on my shirt a little bit.
White Shirt Hazard #3: An unusually busy morning. A staff member at another of our preschool sites passed away last week and yesterday was her memorial. Many of our staff members attended the service, and I had a team of teachers from another of our preschool sites available to substitute during those hours. I had to place them all in rooms that needed them, and take them directly there to introduce them to the other teachers. Additionally, I had two visitors from the Keystone STARS program, which is a Pennsylvania organization that reviews and rates early childhood programs. I had invited these two visitors to observe some of the classrooms to help me figure out how to improve the quality of our school. I also had to place them in classrooms and deliver them there. All of the running around caused me to sweat. In my white shirt.
White Shirt Hazard #4: Carrying my coffee cup down the stairs to my director's office to have her sign papers. Sloshed coffee out of cup. Landed on pants, not shirt. Crisis averted. However, the paperwork was also averted, as we were distracted by the receptionist looking for upcoming dates to add to May's calendar. It was at that point that I learned about a fairly large week-long fundraising/awareness raising activity that I have to help plan and carry out in two weeks. Then I was called from the office to help that team of substitutes figure how where to go and what to do next. More sweat.
White Shirt Hazard #5: My director found me again (my coffee and unsigned paperwork were still locked in her office) to tell me that one of our more rambunctious and large students had just pushed his teacher down and she was injured. We both went to the room where the children were eating lunch and the teacher was crying. She filled out an accident report and I stayed to help keep the rambunctious child under control. First, he tried to flip over the lunch cart. I had to use my entire body to make sure that the cart full of pizza and corn (a classic school combo) stayed upright. He then lifted his cot and tried to place it on top of another child who was already on his own cot. I had to put my body in between them. Eventually I was able to calm down the rambunctious child by giving him some tight squeezes on the shoulders and rubbing my hand smoothly but forcefully up and down his spine while he sat on my leg as I balanced on my other knee (we are approximately the same size), and we were able to move to his cot together. I sat on it and he laid his head down on my lap. However, he was still very restless and rubbed his face, covered in pizza sauce and boogers, all over my lap.
White Shirt Hazard #6: I finally snuck out of that classroom when the rambunctious child stopped "being a good listener," to ensure that I wasn't rewarding his bad choices with my presence (which was also a distraction for the other children who were supposed to be napping). I ate two bites of my lunch (also pizza) and I was called to another classroom. It was still naptime and the teacher needed to go on her break. The other teacher (a substitute from another room) was still going to be in the room, but there were four children awake, so they still needed two adults in the room. I was in the room for approximately ten seconds when a child emerged from the bathroom and said, "The water is coming out." He was followed by a steady flow of fast moving toilet water. Within minutes I was using a mop with rusty screws sticking through the handle to push around toilet water, and then using the press handle to squeeze the grey water from the mop into the large industrial bucket. Over and over and over. When I'd finished mopping, I had to spray bleach and crawl around the floor on my knees to wipe it with paper towels. As I was working, the adorable child who clogged the toilet kept getting up from his cot to tell me things and show me the skateboard on his shirt.
"Ms. Jill, Ms. Jill. I have a question to ask you." I squatted in front of him and asked him what he needed to ask me. He said, "Um. My mom wears make-up here (points to eyelids) and here (points to eyebrows) and here (points to lips)." I replied, "Ok. Great. Can you go back to your cot until it's time to get up. Maybe you can sing the ABCs." He answered, "Ok! I'm going to sing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star." And that is what he did.
White Shirt Hazard #7: I finished my lunch in ten minutes and went back to check on the rambunctious child. He was being a good listener, so I told him he was making me feel so happy. Then I went to another classroom to help fill in for a teacher who had to leave early. I entered the room as the children were finishing their snack. Six kids immediately ran up to hug me with their melon and whole grain cracker encrusted mouths.
White Shirt Hazard #8: Next week the Special Needs Department is having a Sensory Day for Autism Awareness month and I have been enlisted to help with the tactile activity. After all of the children left, I practiced making oobleck and flubber with turquoise watercolor paint.
I left work at 7:00pm, only minimally stained, but maximally aware that the only way to be completely and totally engaged with young children and all of their needs is to be completely and totally unafraid of getting messy, looking stupid, having your ego stomped, or being up close and personal with pizza and boogers.
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