To preface, I work at a KinderCare and am a floater teacher for those who are curious.
My shift is 9 to 6 PM and I spent 9 to 4 PM in the one-year-old room with a co-teacher I have complained about on here before. We had 10 one-year-olds today and it started off smoothly for the most part, aside from trying my hardest to keep the floor clean while a bunch of them kept dumping every single toy out of the bins and putting ones in their mouths that were choking hazards. What broke me soon after and became the start of my awful day was having to do diaper duty all by myself because my coworker admitted he is way too slow at changing them. Even though I usually just bite the bullet and change them quickly so I have one less thing to worry about, I can’t lie and say that doing 20 diapers total today, all while trying my hardest to ensure my co-teacher was efficiently keeping our children safe and in control, didn’t drive me absolutely nuts because it did and it was very hard on my back and knees. A lot of them were extremely loose and/or diarrhea as well and one child in particular had such a horrific and visibly painful case of diaper rash that our assistant director still refused to send home, so I felt terrible for her and tried my best to give her some TLC throughout the day.
Around 4 PM, I got sent to the preschool three to four-year-old room, and what went down next was so genuinely terrifying and stressful that it put me on the brink of having a near full-fledged panic attack, leaving me completely rattled to the point where I went straight to a bar after clocking out just to get a drink and stop my hands from shaking and my mind from racing. I will call the main character of this whole ordeal Mitchell for obvious privacy purposes. Mitchell is a three-year-old prone to sudden, explosive rages, violent outbursts, and a terrifying level of defiance that would make even the most misbehaved kids look like angels. Multiple kids and staff members look at him as a walking safety hazard, but because keeping him and his sister enrolled brings in the tuition money, management refuses to kick him out unless someone gets injured to the point where they’re hospitalized. Never mind that he’s already punched, kicked, and bitten both teachers and students alike and once went as far to escape our building during pickup and almost ending up in the middle of the street while cars were passing by.
When I was put in a room with him and four other kids, he started off fine, but out of nowhere, he began throwing a fit and started hurling plastic and wooden toys across the room, nailing one of his peers right in the face with a hard figurine. When I calmly told him to stop and put the toys down, his anger instantly was directed toward me. He cocked his arm back and threw the toys straight at my head. Before I could even process what was happening, he then grabbed an empty plastic bin and launched it like a missile, directly hitting another student right on the head. She fell to the floor while crying out in pain and I immediately threw myself in front of her to act as a human shield while Mitchell shrieked and charged at us. I was yelling across the room for my co-teacher to help me, all while Mitchell went on an absolute rampage and flipping chairs, dumping toy bins everywhere, popping open my water bottle to flood the floor, and grabbing our classroom iPad to fling it across the room while laughing maniacally saying that he broke it.
While my adrenaline was already maxed out, one of the other students had a massive pee accident, instantly soaking his pants and creating a huge puddle right in the middle of all the scattered toys. I was trapped in a nightmare and felt completely torn between either racing to help the child soaked in his own pee and keeping my eyes locked on an unhinged Mitchell who was still trying to attack his peers. I rushed the kid who had the accident into the small adjoining bathroom, keeping the door cracked so I could keep a close eye on Mitchell, but my worst fear happened in a second as Mitchell stormed into the bathroom while I was trying to change the kid and viciously attacked me. He bit my leg hard enough to leave a mark, smacked me right across the face, and tried to headbutt me right before bolting out the door cackling. As I frantically tried to finish dressing the sobbing child, I could hear Mitchell continuing to trash the room by climbing shelves and tables and ripping things in half. I sprinted out after him, yelling for him to get down while he darted around the classroom akin to a feral animal on the loose. When my assistant director finally came into the room after what felt like an hour, though it was only about 10 minutes, the place looked like a war zone. She took one look at the chaos and completely dismissed the danger, saying, "(My name), you seem to deal with a lot when you’re with him, haha." Her laughing it off and completely invalidating the fact that I was literally just assaulted filled me with boiling rage. I was standing there covered in sweat and trying to tend to children that got hurt while she was treating the severe safety hazard that is Mitchell like it’s something that should be easy to deal with when he’d be too much for even the most experienced teacher. She then walked out and left me entirely stranded to fend for myself against a violent child without even offering a shred of backup, which felt like a slap in the face to the hard work I provide as a teacher there.
The chaos soon ramped up again and Mitchell sprinted across the room, grabbed a kid by the collar, and roughly shoved him face-first into the sharp corner of a wooden table. I dropped everything I was doing to help him and Mitchell just stood there pointing and laughing. Just when I thought things couldn't get worse, my assistant director came back, unlocked the door, and brought in six more children straight into the volatile hellhole that was my room. When I looked her dead in the eye and begged her not to put more kids in a room running rampant with violence and chaos thanks to Mitchell, she coldly brushed me off and said “(My name), just please try to use all of the skills I taught you when it comes to managing the classroom. If you feel stressed about Mitchell, just take a deep breath." The sheer nerve of telling me to use "classroom management skills" and take a deep breath while throwing them into an absolute war zone felt so insulting and if she were in my shoes, she’d know that no amount of “breathing exercises” is going to manage a child who clearly needs clinical behavioral intervention. The moment she vanished again, Mitchell swarmed the new kids, hitting and scratching them one by one. I had to physically restrain him while urgently asking all of the other kids to huddle in a corner with books to distract themselves. He broke free by scratching me and then lunged at a little girl, grabbing fistfuls of her braided hair and pulling so hard I thought he was going to rip a strand of hair or a bead out. What scared me most was looking over at one of our most vulnerable students, a little girl who is severely mentally and physically disabled and has a feeding tube, sitting inches away from Mitchell with her nurse. Even her nurse looked terrified, pulling me aside to whisper that she didn't feel like the student she looks after was safe in this environment due to her disability making her a vulnerable target and that she felt like that the level of Mitchell's explosive violent behavior was closer to what you’d find in a child psychiatric facility rather than even one of the most difficult daycares.
When his mom arrived, I approached her and read my detailed incident report to her verbatim, while telling her that “so much happened it couldn’t fit on the entire report”. She listened passively and made him mumble a hollow apology, but her deadpan expression made it obvious she was completely desensitized to his terror because this was just another Wednesday for her. As soon as she left, my assistant director reappeared, not to check if I was okay after being bitten and struck, but to snap at me and demand to know why the room wasn't spotless 15 minutes past my scheduled clock-out time. I stared at her in disbelief, telling her that it was physically impossible to clean while single-handedly dodging flying objects, shielding injured kids from Mitchell, and managing him causing a riot. I wasn’t even able to clean the pee that the kid earlier got onto the floor until all of my kids left and I had an empty classroom, despite the puddle being there for nearly an hour and objectively causing a sanitary hazard, all because I was given no help with Mitchell. Everything that went down from how Mitchell hurt me and the other students to my assistant director’s blatant disrespect left me so shaken and worn out that I went straight to a bar for a drink after work while trying not to replay the entire day in my head.
I’ve been at this center since mid-April. From April to July, my time here was great; I felt genuinely supported and believed I had finally found somewhere I could thrive, especially after leaving a toxic workplace where this new job felt like a true breath of fresh air. Suddenly, however, everything has fallen apart over the past month. My days are growing increasingly stressful, leaving me completely worn out and beat down when I clock out. I have started resorting to drinking more than usual, and I worry constantly that this stress and anger will fester and inadvertently bleed into my relationships with my parents and my partner. I previously told myself I needed to stay here for a full year so my resume would show stability rather than a string of short-term positions, as I am much more mature and career-oriented now and want to avoid looking like a job-hopper. That being said, I honestly do not know how much longer I can survive this environment. My ultimate career goal is to become a Registered Behavior Technician, as I genuinely feel like I excel at helping children with severe autism calm down and decompress, and management frequently calls me in when our most difficult kids act out without their assigned RBT. I have had plenty of unofficial practice alongside the ones that come in who tell me I would do great at it and I do feel like it could be my calling, which makes me feel optimistic. It’s just different dealing with those intense behaviors when I’m completely isolated in a room trying to manage a violent child while responsible for five or more other kids who are at risk of getting hurt. I just don’t know what to do next and I feel like bursting into tears knowing I have to clock in for work in thirty minutes.