Even the best early years educators don’t get along with all their charges, says our Secret Practitioner...
I have a secret. A terribly, weighty secret that I’ve been carrying around ever since I started working in early years settings, just over two decades ago (I know, I know – I can’t quite believe it myself).
It’s something I can’t tell anyone. Not family or friends, and certainly not anyone I work with – even though, actually, they are probably the people who would benefit most from knowing it.
Want to know what it is? Okay then. Because this is anonymous – and only under that condition – I’m ready to confess.
My carefully concealed, awful truth is this: I don’t like all children. Not only that, I’ve looked after more than a handful of children whom I would say I’ve actively disliked.
It’s the ultimate taboo – in teaching generally, but especially in the early years. We don’t do this job for the massive pay packet, after all, and I’ve never worked in a nursery that didn’t stay open for 51 weeks of the year, so extended holidays aren’t really a thing, either.
The only possible reason, therefore, for choosing this as a career must be that we just love children. Right?
Actually, I would say that, generally speaking, I do love children. I love their curiosity, their energy, and their total lack of filter when it comes to pointing out how squishy my tummy is, or what a weird colour I’ve chosen to paint my nails.
I adore seeing them develop, gently guiding them towards more ambitious choices and bolder challenges, and helping them unravel the mysteries of the world around them.
Every time one of my charges learns something new, or reaches a developmental milestone (no matter how “early” or “late” it might be), it’s as exciting as the first time I witnessed such a thing.
But do I like them all? No. No way. Because here’s the thing: children are, ultimately, little people. They are all different. From the moment they’re born, they are shaped by their closest family and the environment into which they’ve arrived – and that’s not even taking into account their genetic preprogramming.
By the time I meet them, they’re already a fair way along in terms of fundamental character development; I don’t like, or expect to like, every adult I encounter, so why on earth would it be different for younger versions?
I really hope it goes without saying, but I’ll spell it out anyway: never in a million years would I let my dislike for a particular child influence how I treat them.
I’m as kind, fair, fun and loving with the little ones I’d really rather not be around as I am with those I find more “sympa”, as they put it in France.
They get as much of my time, my records and reports are just as detailed, and my communications with their parents are every bit as positive, thorough and enthusiastic.
I am, in short, a professional. And that’s really why I’m writing this, albeit not in a way that would enable anyone to identify me.
Because in fact, nurturing every child in our care, to the best of our ability, regardless of personal preference (or prejudice), is one of the most important things we bring to our role as practitioners.
It isn’t easy – I’m also a parent, and trust me, there are times when each of my three children has been very aware that I’m not liking them very much in that particular moment – but it is an important and precious responsibility, which we take very seriously and for which, I think, we deserve more recognition than we often get.
I know I can’t be the only one who feels like this. I’m sure that most teachers could come up with a list of children they’ve taught while actively disliking them at the time. We just don’t talk about it.
Maybe, if we did, it might all get a bit easier.
Our Secret Practitioner has worked in the Early Years sector for over 20 years.
