This morning in any kindergarten in any suburb of any big city in Germany. 25 children are rioting noisily for two educators, while any mother indignantly searches for her child's slipper. She scolds softly, but loud enough to be heard. "Can't be," she hisses. "Every day you have to rearrange everything, search and that poor Ben has a sniffing nose is no wonder if nobody makes sure that the eight layers are correctly stacked. He is also dirty every day and she is happy Already on the parents' evening, where you can clarify "all of that". I swallow. Look at the 25 children, two frighteningly cheerful adults compared to me and this mother, who will stay in this madness all day today and think I'm happy not to be in their skin.
Mission Impossible every day
Yesterday I had five children at home. That was completely crazy, and it became clear to me again: You know a child, but you still have no idea about the others. While my son always needs a "who is the quickest challenge" to get out of the slouches, little Sophie immediately starts to cry as soon as the going gets tough. And if, as the mother of a fruit-killer, you suddenly have to cut cucumber-radish monsters or you are required to have lots of apple slices, that's kind of confusing. One child had to do business five times larger, another felt excluded from building Lego because he didn't feel like Lego himself. Four children absolutely wanted to ride a bike in front of the door, one cannot yet ride a bike. When the last "not-my-child" was picked up, I waited in vain for the referee with the medal. I deserved it, damn it. Instead, I got a real argument between "my child no. 1" and "my child no. 2". I gave myself the medal. A red, liquid, with alcohol.
Educators do this every day. Without wine.
Educators cannot end with Merlot medals every day. Wouldn't be so great for health. They can't even put the gang right in front of the telly when it gets too colorful. They cut cucumber and radish monsters day after day, persuade fruit-keepers to make a spoonful of applesauce, settle 400 disputes instead of 15 disputes a day, are buffers between 25 children and between parents and day-care center managers, and at the same time take care of helicopter children and neglected little TV junkies , 25 children change their clothes if necessary, if something goes wrong and can still hear that they are to blame for Ben's sniff nose because of the choice of clothes from the incomplete change bag. In addition, they should please support the preschool children, cuddle the little ones regularly, gently treat the mental food intolerance of difficult candidates and keep the entrance area tidy. Oh yes, and the unmarked hat shouldn't really get lost. Isn't that too much to ask for in a kindergarten with only 140 children?
They also like to do all of that
Anyone who now – like me – thinks that all in all is somehow pitiful has underestimated the most heroic quality of most educators. Educators do not want pity for what they do. You like to do that. They manage to take these little strange people so deeply into their hearts over decades that they go to work motivated anew every day. It doesn’t matter what it is, even if it is the last nerve. Recently, Heike, my son's educator, stayed after work because he couldn't find the group again after a discussion with her. "He looked so sad, so I preferred to cuddle and talk to him," she told me the next day. I wanted to hug her tightly.
People have respect!
What educators like Heike can do, I just couldn't do and what they are willing to give can never be weighed up with money. But what takes them unnecessarily energy: parents who don't mark their children's belongings, who pull on little things, who want a thousand special treatments for their sweetheart or who don't even spend the two minutes reading the current notices. I also fall into one or the other of these categories, it is also human to be stupid or careless at times. But then to take out your own frustration on the educators, that's really not the fine English. I promise improvement for my part and give them a Merlot medal. Oh, and tomorrow, on parents' evening, I'll roar like a lioness, if only one dares to lose respect. Even if educators do not earn as much as they should, they certainly deserve our RESPECT.