Dear Administrator

Is this chinuch? This tiptoeing around parents in the name of misplaced rachamim?
Dear Administrator,
It’s been a rough year. I called it from Day One, when I asked for support for my student, whom I saw was having difficulty. And that was before I found out about her difficult summer experience and her hard year in nursery.
I have been teaching for a very long time. I’m a successful morah; parents request me when placing their children in preschool. It is both an honor and a humbling experience, and I try to live up to my name. That includes reaching out for help when I need it.
When I reached out to you, you were overwhelmed with the demands of a new school year. You did try to send help when you could, and for that I’m grateful. An extra pair of hands is always welcome. Sadly, it wasn’t enough, and this child’s behavior continued to escalate with explosive physical reactions that seemed to come out of nowhere.
And then I discovered another child whose needs could not be met in our classroom or school. You listened, and again you sent help when you could. But things did not get better for her. I witnessed her suffering as she struggled to meet expectations she was not hardwired to understand.
You told me to give the parents time to grieve a dream. I am a parent; I’ve had my share of tza’ar gidul banim; I know firsthand what it is to mourn. I also know that to best help our children, we need to be pragmatic, especially in early childhood education. It is imperative to use this time for valuable early intervention.
Winter came, challenging us to keep our students both calm and active. That always includes some new issues, both academic and behavioral. My assistant and I valiantly did our work of trying to educate Hashem’s children with boundaries and respect. Sometimes it worked, but for some it did not.
The first time the child hit Morah, punched and kicked her, the only disciplinary action was leaving the classroom for a time out and a phone call home. We documented the incident, we spoke about “continuing to monitor the situation.” We did that. We monitored, we documented, we followed “protocol” again and again and again.
We sent emails begging for resources, whispered urgent requests as we passed you in the hallway, called SOS on the walkie talkies when in the playground, and pressed the call button when we needed assistance in the classroom.
Finally, at PTA, we gently informed the parents about these issues. We encouraged them to set up meetings in which to ask for more resources. In the meantime, we continued doing all the great stuff that makes up for a preschool year, while juggling the demands and needs of our most challenging students. When they finally got some help, the revolving door of therapists caused disruptions to our classroom learning and routine. Still, we accommodated everyone with a smile, happy that these children were finally receiving support.
We were in a good place. We were seeing progress. We were proud of our efforts to help all the children in our classroom succeed.
Pesach approached, and we pulled it off, with special projects and preparations. After Yom Tov, the children came back happy from their long break — and oh, how they grew! Over the year, they made great strides in all areas of development, and I confess, I love listening in on their conversation. They have so much to say.
Most of them. Unfortunately, the ones we were most concerned about are still facing difficulty.
The year is almost over. The behavior has not gotten better. On the contrary, it has escalated to aggression and violence toward other students, the morahs, classroom furniture and tools, and even to you, the administrator.
Summer is coming, and I wonder: Is this chinuch? This tiptoeing around parents in the name of misplaced rachamim? How does this help anyone, especially the child? What good is assuaging the parents’ ego when it is their child suffering?
I look back at this year and I wonder what I accomplished. It is a demoralizing thought for a seasoned, sought-after teacher. I wonder if, in your effort to please the parents, you forgot the moros in the trenches, doing the great avodas Hakodesh, pouring out love for these children. We need support to continue our work.
I wish you a restful summer. I will certainly need it. And when the time comes for you to prepare the classrooms for next year, please look back at this letter and reflect on what you can do to set us all — children and the dedicated moros of klal Yisrael — on the path to success.
A veteran preschool morah
(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 948)
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