As the daughter of a preschool and a kindergarten teacher, I was destined to become a childcare queen. Last summer, I set out looking for a job assuming I'd be stuck flipping burgers or at best, behind a desk, but was pleasantly surprised when I found a job at a daycare.
I was blessed with an abnormally good group of kids. If there are usually four or five rotten apples in a bushel, I had just one, a spoiled three year old named Faith. Every day when her parents left the room, the showdown began. She would throw herself dramatically to the floor, wailing in misery. How dare they leave her in this desolate wasteland? In a fit of rage, she screamed and threw entire mountains of toys clear across the room, never slowing for a second. When I tried to stop her, she ran from me and cried under the door for her mom, who reliably came to her rescue.
The first week, she wore me down, but the second, I came back with an iron resolve-I would fix her. I had to for my own sanity. Originally I tried a positive reinforcement system adapted from my dad's kindergarten class; she could earn a star for being good and at five stars, she would receive a prize. She never got a single star. Bargaining with a small child was a near impossible task, so I switched my tactics. I started to ignore her, playing with other kids as she threw her usual fit. At some point, she would get jealous, stop crying, and come join in. After a few weeks of this, she began to realize her tantrums only worked at home. She calmed down, eventually stopping the tantrums altogether.
Faith is now one of my best kids. One day, she brought me a crude ladybug drawing with heart stickers all around it. "I love you, Miss Amanda," she stated matter-of-factly. The difference between who she was and who she is now is astounding. Obviously there were other factors involved in the transition, but knowing I helped her makes my job meaningful and worthwhile. Fixing Faith is one of the most rewarding things I've done.
I was blessed with an abnormally good group of kids. If there are usually four or five rotten apples in a bushel, I had just one, a spoiled three year old named Faith. Every day when her parents left the room, the showdown began. She would throw herself dramatically to the floor, wailing in misery. How dare they leave her in this desolate wasteland? In a fit of rage, she screamed and threw entire mountains of toys clear across the room, never slowing for a second. When I tried to stop her, she ran from me and cried under the door for her mom, who reliably came to her rescue.
The first week, she wore me down, but the second, I came back with an iron resolve-I would fix her. I had to for my own sanity. Originally I tried a positive reinforcement system adapted from my dad's kindergarten class; she could earn a star for being good and at five stars, she would receive a prize. She never got a single star. Bargaining with a small child was a near impossible task, so I switched my tactics. I started to ignore her, playing with other kids as she threw her usual fit. At some point, she would get jealous, stop crying, and come join in. After a few weeks of this, she began to realize her tantrums only worked at home. She calmed down, eventually stopping the tantrums altogether.
Faith is now one of my best kids. One day, she brought me a crude ladybug drawing with heart stickers all around it. "I love you, Miss Amanda," she stated matter-of-factly. The difference between who she was and who she is now is astounding. Obviously there were other factors involved in the transition, but knowing I helped her makes my job meaningful and worthwhile. Fixing Faith is one of the most rewarding things I've done.