Stupid f*#!ing
new daycare.
A week ago today the boys started their new daycare by our new house. We chose the place with the not-as-nice physical facility but with the very convenient location and warm attitude and environment (at least that's what I thought when I toured it). It was an angst-filled
decision, and an even more angst-filled transition.
It's been a rough week, which was to be expected, since we pulled them out of the place they'd known since they were each 2 months old. Yes, I expected them to cry when they were dropped off at a foreign environment, but I also expected someone to give a shit and pay attention to them!
If they ever cried at drop-off at the
old daycare, they were cuddled and loved on until they forgot about Mama leaving. Not so at this new place: The first day I had to literally tell the teacher in Graham's room that she should pick him up and hold him until I was out the door.
Dan and I have been literally having to drag Cole in from the parking lot, and then once inside his class he claws at the door to get back out. (This from a child who would happily run right into school and start playing before.) Tuesday he came in screaming and upset and neither of his teachers even acknowledged him. It wasn't until he got about a foot away from the one teacher with his pathetic wailing that she casually said "Oh Hi Cole." I left and he was wandering around crying getting no attention. It took every ounce of restraint for me not to gather him up and curse them out and take him back home with me.
Today takes the cake, though. Today he did a little better and willingly went into the classroom and didn't cry until he saw I was leaving. I kissed him and left and then went back to the door to spy to see how he did. They got a chair for him and sat him at the table for art. All the kids were gathered around getting moons and stars with glue on them, but the bitch at the table was handing them out like it was an assembly line, not smiling, not talking to the kids, not teaching the kids.... just gluing white moons on the blue papers in front of them like she was miserable. Cole continued to cry and call for me from his chair. He had
Terence the tractor with him and was clutching it looking generally pissed off. I think one time the teacher acknowledged him by saying "Mommy will be back for you," but no affection and no real re-assurance.
Finally she looked at him and threateningly snapped, "Do you want me to take your toy away?"
Cole just looked at her with his big sweet blue eyes, half-shocked / half-afraid and said "noooooo."
"Then CALM DOWN!" she snarled.
Then, she quickly jerked her head toward another little boy who wasn't sitting at the table but was over playing with some other toys. "And YOU GET OVER HERE!"
Nasty bitch.
Cole stopped crying, but he wasn't happy.
I went to the front desk where the director is, and I immediately voiced my concerns. The director did not share my level of concern. She gave me some "blah, blah, blah, we'll talk to her" kind of answer. At that instant nasty bitch herself came out of the classroom for some more glue and I took the opportunity to tell her, in a nut shell, that nobody talks to my son that way. When he is upset and trying to adjust to a new school he does not need to be threatened; he needs positive reinforcment and affection.
I looked at the director after my confrontation for some back up, and she didn't have too much to say. The assistant director said something along the lines of, "If we need to address some things to make you feel better, we will." Make ME feel better? Like I'm the one with the problem? PLEASE!
I went back and spied through the door on the boys one more time to make sure everything was kosher, then I stormed out, got in the car, broke down crying, and called Dan. When Dan got wind of what had happened he called the director and reamed her a new one. Good ol' Dan... I can always count on him to be "the enforcer" when someone messes with me or the boys.
After an hour working out at my
new gym I was a little calmer and more composed and decided I'd check on the boys one more time before going home to go to sleep (since I work tonight. Trust me, if I weren't working all night and didn't need sleep right now, Cole would not still be there with Ms. Nasty Threats.)
I went back into daycare and the director just looked at me. I matter-of-factly told her, "I'm just stopping in to see how everything is going with them," and walked by towards their classrooms to spy on them again. I want everyone there to know that I am going to be dropping in and out keeping tabs on everything until we can find a better childcare alternative.
I spied some more, and both boys were on the playground. Ms. Nasty was telling all the kids to stop touching the "dirt", which really is playground mulch, composing the ENTIRE playground surface. Everytime a kid bent down to touch it they got "corrected." She was civil about it, but PLEASE... the mulch is everywhere. If you don't want them touching it, put down grass. Cole was filling a dump truck up with the mulch, and he was looking at her with his "guilty" face, like he was waiting to get yelled at. She didn't actually yell at him... maybe I got through to her. He had made his way to the slide by the time I left and seemed okay, but just not HAPPY.
What infuriated me even more though, was that after the scene this morning, when I stopped there the second time, the director didn't say one word to me. She let me walk in and out without addressing the big elephant in the room, which was me being back there because I was so worried about my babies.
Undoubtedly she thinks we're "difficult," and maybe she wants us to disenroll our kids. But we're no strangers to daycare, and we don't have unrealistic expectations... because the last school was able to take care of Cole and Graham in a way that met our expectations and we never had to be difficult. I'm going to keep being difficult until these people become competent.
Meanwhile, I think the time has come to consider a full time nanny. At least until they get into where I initially wanted them to go,
The Cedarhouse School (where they've been on the wait list since February).
It almost makes me want to quit my job and take care of my kids myself.
the boat,
and Oma and Opa's deck. (Don't call child protective services! Those are EMPTY.)
