Your Child Is Not DoorDash, And Pre-K Isn’t Amazon Prime

Preschool isn’t “just pre‑K.” We dig into the data on chronic absence and make the case that showing up is the intervention: consistent attendance wires language, early math, and self‑regulation, and those early gains echo into second grade and beyond. When half of a public pre‑K cohort is chronically absent, the consequences aren’t abstract—they surface as reading gaps, behavior challenges, and classrooms stuck reteaching routines instead of building new skills.

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Transcript

Opening And Why Attendance Matters

SPEAKER_00 0:04

Welcome to Stumbling Through Work Where Educators Figure Shit Out. The podcast for educators and anyone who ever walked into their program and said, Nope, not today. I'm your host, Jared Huff, here to unpack the wild stories, broken systems, and to call out the chaos. Let's get into it. Hey team, welcome to another episode of Stumbling Through Work where educators figure shit out. Today we're talking about something that sounds boring. Attendance. Yes, attendance. Not curriculum, not licensing, not ratios, not which parent is about to send you a 12-page email because their child's sock went missing. Just attendance. And before you skip this episode, which would sound and kind of be ironic talking about attendance, stay with me. I came across an article by the Brooking Institution written over 12 years ago and is still applicable today. Because missing preschool, which is something we as educators already know, actually matters. Like long-term life outcome matters. Which is wild because half the world still thinks, you know, preschool is just coloring and snacks. Let's start with the mindset you you know this conversation. Parents at drop off. Oh, we're going to Disney for a week. Or grandma's visiting. Or he didn't feel like coming today. It's just pre-K. It's fine. Just pre-K. Just pre-K. Like it's a gym membership. Like we're running toddler spa. Meanwhile, as educators, you're over there building language pathways, executive functioning skills, social regulation, early math concepts. But sure, finger paint? Totally optional. Turns out when kids miss a lot of preschool, they don't just miss crafts, they miss foundations. And see, here's the part that stopped me. In their study, they looked at a large public pre-K system, and almost half the kids were chronically absent. Half. Not a few stragglers, not flu season, half. Chronic absence means missing about 10% or more of the school year, which doesn't sound huge until you do the math. Couple days here, a long weekend there, a random Tuesday because, you know, we overslept. Then boom, you've lost a month at four years old. And here's the kicker. Um, families that have transportation problems, health issues, um, unstable schedules. And so the kids who benefit most from structure and learning time are the ones missing it. If that isn't the most education system thing ever, I don't know what is. Now, here is where it gets uncomfortable because we all say they'll catch up. We love that phrase, they'll catch up, they're young, they'll catch up. No, they don't actually. The data shows kids who missed more preschool had lower early literacy, weaker math skills, poor or poorer social emotional readiness, struggled more with behavior, and were still behind years later. Not weak, years. Like second grade reading scores still showed the gap. Second grade. Do you know how long that is in kid years? That's like three lifetimes. That's potty training, learning to tie shoes, losing 18 teeth. I'm 18 teeth, um, hell, discovering Minecraft, and they're still feeling the effects of missing preschool. That's not a small ripple, people. That is a wave. And now let's talk about center life because if you're listening and you run a program, you already know this. Attendance impacts and affects everything. You can't run small groups, you can't scaffold learning, you can't build routines. Every day feels like, well, hi, welcome back. Hi, here's how we wash our hands again. It's like groundhog day. You are reteaching the same transitions forever, and then people wonder why the classroom feels chaotic. Because consistency builds regulation, and regulation builds learning. You can't develop social skills if you're only there twice a week like a guest star. Kids need repetition. You don't learn sharing from one experience, it doesn't happen that way. You learn sharing for you learn sharing from 400 tiny conflicts over the same red truck. Attendance is repetition. No repetition that equals no skills. It's not complicated, it's just developmental science. But here's my favorite thing: society will say, why aren't kids ready for kindergarten? And it's the same society, the one that we live in, that cuts transportation, that offers no sick leave, that makes childcare unaffordable, it treats pre-K like babysitting, then shrugs when kids don't understand. And I'm not and I'm just sitting here like, wow, you remove every support system, and now you're surprised family struggle to show up. Groundbreaking. It is truly groundbreaking. Your next headline is going to be something like, Did you know water is still wet? The research point towards something really simple. It's not about scolding families, it's not attendance threats, it's support. Stuff like reliable transportation, flexible scheduling, health access, parent communication, making school feel valuable. Because the truth is, families don't skip school because they don't care. They skip because life is chaos. Work schedules change, cars break down, kids get sick, money runs a little thin. Punishing that doesn't fix it. Systems fix it. This means directors, owners, policymakers, districts, we can't just say attendance policy must attend. That's cool, but how? And so here's the bottom line: preschool isn't optional enrichment, it's infrastructure. It's like building the foundation of a house. Nobody says, eh, we'll pour half the foundation to see what happens. Because you know what happens? The house leans, then it cracks, and then it collapses. And then later someone blames the roof. That's what we do in education. We skip the foundation and then blame third grade teachers. So yeah, attendance matters at four, at five, every day. Showing up is literally the intervention. And if you're a director listening, track attendance like you track licensing things. If you're a teacher, notice patterns. And if you're a policy person, fund the boring shit that actually works. Buses, health, family support, not another laminated poster that's just gonna go in the closet. And if you're a parent, just know this. When your kid shows up, they're not just playing, they're building their brain. So yeah, it counts, and we'll be right back. Okay, quick break. If you're a teacher or director who's currently stumbling through work, and I mean that literally, figuratively, or spiritually, you need to check out our new merch. We've got shirts that say exactly what you want to say in staff meetings, what you want to say to parents, mugs for caffeine that hold your entire personality together, and gear so you can walk into the building already announcing, nope, I don't have time for this today, without even opening your mouth. These are perfect for the classroom, the office, or the car where you sit for 12 minutes pretending you're going to quit. Again, grab your shirts, your mugs, and your survival merch at abbreviatedlearning.com because if you're gonna stumble through work anyway, you might as well look good doing it. Welcome back. So this is for directors, leaders, program captains, firefighters with clipboards. And if you're not a leader yet, congratulations, you still sleep sometimes. Because once you take that leadership role, such as a director, you don't go to work, you enter a daily obstacle course where the copier jams, licensing shows up unannounced, a teacher calls out, someone microwave fish, and a parent wants a 40-minute conference at drop off, and it's 7 12 a.m. And somewhere in the middle of that chaos, you're supposed to lead with vision. Here's the most basic leadership advice ever. It's almost annoyingly simple. So simple, most directors ignore it. Are you ready? Every decision should answer one question. How does this impact the children and families? That's it. Not, you know, is this easier for me? Is this faster? Um, well, licensing like this, can I avoid this email? Nope. Kids and families every time. Because the second you stop filtering decisions through that, you turn into a paperwork manager with a badge. And then suddenly families feel like interruptions, staff feels like problems, and children feel like just ratios, just numbers. And that's when burnout starts. That's when directors become grumpy spreadsheet goblins. And you know the ones they've forgotten why they work in early childhood, but they can recite the budget to a penny. And there's always a moment, usually it tends to be around year two or three of leadership, and that's when you realize, you know, I've spent seven hours today talking about payroll and not one minute with the child. That's the warning sign because we didn't get into this field to become, you know, accountants with walkie-talkies. Yes, that is part of the job and it is important, but it's not the only focus. We got here because some tiny human once hugged our leg and said, Look what I made. And we thought, yeah, this is it. I can protect this, I can help this grow. That's the mission. Everything else is just support. To stay centered on families, you end up wearing, you know, 14 emotional hats a day. But there are just four big ones, in my opinion. And so let's talk about them. First one for me is hat number one, the historian. You are basically the keeper of the center lore. You remember why the center opened, who was the first families, you know, the year the roof leaked, the legendary cook who quit mid-lunch, the great licensing visit of 2022. Like you remember all of this stuff. And see, staff forgets, family rotates, but you remember. And when things get messy, people look at you like, have we survived worse? And you go, Oh yeah, sit down. Let me tell you about the time we had no heat to inspect us, and Brenda was trying to bake cookies during that. History gives people perspective, it reminds them we've been through chaos before and we're still standing. Directors who don't know their history make decisions that accidentally erase their culture, and suddenly your warm family-style center turns into a corporate childcare with laminated feelings. Hat number two. The anthropological sleuth. This one is my favorite because you basically become a low budget behavioral scientist. You're just watching humans all day. Like, hmm, interesting. That teacher only calls out on Mondays. That parent always drops off angry on the first of the month. That child melts down exactly at 4 47. You start connecting dots. You're not judging, you're just studying. Because behavior always means something. That difficult parent probably exhausted, or that lazy staff could be overwhelmed. That clingy child probably navigating a change at home. Directors who pay attention solve problems faster. Directors who pay attention write policies for everything. And policies are not therapy. You cannot policy your way out of human emotions. I have seen people try it, it does not work, and it gets ugly. Hat number three, the visionary. This one's hard when you're tired. Because vision requires hope. And sometimes at 5 58 p.m., hope feels illegal. But this is where you look past today and you think, what could this place be? Better classrooms, stronger teachers, happier families, professional growth, real culture. Vision is what keeps your team from quitting on a bad week. Because if today is the only thing they see, they're out. But if they can see where they're going, they'll stay. Not for you. I mean, maybe a little bit for you, but for the mission. And hat number four, the healer. Now, this one nobody trains you for. And honestly, it is the most exhausting because directors absorb emotions like a sponge. Teachers crying, parents venting, kids melting down. By 3 p.m., you're basically an emotional support animal with a master key. And healing doesn't mean fixing everything, it means listening, giving grace, moving schedule, saying, you know what, just go take a break. I think you need it right now. Sometimes healing is just not making things worse, which frankly is a leadership skill because nothing escalates faster than a director who reacts instead of responds. Calm is contagious, so is chaos. So choose wisely. And the big mistake directors make, they start thinking, if I just tighten systems, everything will run perfectly. No. Systems support people, but they don't replace them. You can have the perfect checklists, the perfect schedules, you know, perfect compliance, and still have miserable families because nobody feels seen. Childcare is not manufacturing. We're not producing identical screws, we're raising humans, which means messy, emotional, unpredictable. So if your leadership doesn't include empathy, you're building a machine, not a community. And here's something practical. Before any decision, ask how does this affect children and families? Because sometimes the easiest answer for you is the worst answer for them. Leadership means choosing the harder right over the easier wrong. Annoying but true. And you will forget sometimes because you'll get caught up in budgets and compliance and enrollment numbers, spreadsheets, and suddenly you're speaking only in percentages. That's your cue to go sit on the floor in a classroom for 10 minutes. Just go just sat down for a few minutes and just watch kids build blocks. It's an instant reset. Trust me, I've done it many a time because nothing realigns your priorities faster than a four-year-old who proudly shows you a tower made of two triangles and a spoon. That's the mission, people, not the budget report. Now let's make this practical. If you're truly centered on families, you will answer emails with clarity, explain policies like humans actually wrote them, greet parents by name, check on stress staff, celebrate small wins, and ask for feedback, fix problems fast, and not because it's in the handbook, because it's respectful. And respect builds trust, and trust builds enrollment. And see, enrollment pays the bills. See, empathy is financially smart too. At the end of the day, though, nobody remembers. Wow, what a compliant licensing binder. I mean, maybe licensing remembers, but other than that, no one does. What they remember is my child felt safe there. My director listened, my teacher grew. That's the legacy, not the paperwork. Paperwork is just the receipt. So if you're drowning this week, try this. Before reacting to anything, ask, how does this help the children and families? If it doesn't, rework it. Because the second we forget who we serve, we're just adults arguing in a building with small chairs. And that's not leadership, that's chaos with a badge. So, you know, stay focused, stay human, and if all else fails, go sit on the carpet and read a book to toddlers. It fixes your brain faster than therapy. And we'll be right back after the break. So, are you an educator watching everyone else get promoted, watching everyone else get raises, or even get the recognition for things you've literally have been doing forever? That's why we offer educational career development coaching designed for teachers, directors, and leaders who want to move up, earn more, and actually get the credit for the work they do. We work on interviews, resumes, salary negotiation, leadership confidence, communication skills, and how to stop letting your admin gaslight you into believing you're not ready yet. You are ready. You just need the strategy. Book your session at abbreviatedlearning.com and start moving towards the title, salary, and respect you deserve. Because stumbling through work is funny, but stumbling through your career is not. Okay, team, we are back with asking for a friend. We are at the start of a big snowstorm. Our area is predicting up to two feet of snow between today and tomorrow. We have closed the school and have three parents complaining. Seriously. They're not essential employees. One is HR where their job is done from home. One is a shift scheduler whose job can be done at home. And he had no problem taking three days off last week to take his kid to an indoor water park. The other is just a computer tech and does 98% of their work from home anyways. They have no problem with wanting to put their three and four-year-old children in the car tomorrow and driving them in. Really? Over two feet of drifting snow, and you see no problem with putting your child's life in danger when you can just work from home. So roads are unsafe, visibility is trash, snow plows behind, staff commute dangerous, emergency services are telling people to stay home, and parents are emailing. So are you sure you really have to close? Yes, Karen. I double check with the blizzard and it's confirmed. See, if they were nurses, okay, cool. Firefighters, sure. ER doctors, absolutely. We'd problem solve, we'd figure something out, because we always do. But no. Let me introduce the cast of this situation. Parent number one, who's does HR and they work from home. Parent number two, the shift scheduler, also works from home and took three days off last week to go to an indoor water park, but you know what? Those are your days off. You choose what you do. Fantastic. Parent three, computer tech, who works 98% of the time from home, and probably the other two percent is probably just walking to the fridge. And yet these people are ready to load their children into a car during a two feet snowstorm to drive to child care so they can sit at home on their laptops. Make it make sense. This is where being a director gets weird because half your brain is professional, calm, measured. Safety is our priority. We follow local advisories. And then the other half is like, you want to risk hydroplaning your toddler for circle time? I swear sometimes you just really want to reply, ma'am, your child is not DoorDash. We are not delivering child care at personal convenient levels. This is not Amazon Prime Preschool. And let's talk about logic for 30 seconds in this situation. See, when we close, it's not because we're lazy, because we just want a day off, or we know we enjoy sending this to 47 different families. It's because staff safety, child safety, emergency response limitation, building access issues, liability all of those things basic human common sense. If teachers can't safely drive in, you don't have a school. And news flash directors can't. Cannot legally run eight classrooms alone like some kind of exhausted octopus. See, parents see, oh, the roles aren't that bad near my house. Cool. But your teachers might live 25 minutes away in another direction, through hills, through side streets. You know, we're not, you know, just deciding for you. We're deciding for every human connected to the building. It's systems thinking, which is deeply unsexy. I get that, but it's extremely necessary. And here's what kills me. Some parents will say, we just want what's safest for our kids. Do you? Because then you immediately will go, but can you open anyway? So which one is it? Safety or convenience? Because those two don't always shake hands. Sometimes we have to protect families from themselves. I said it. Sometimes they just not, it ain't all pistons aren't firing. Because parents do things that make me question everything. Flip-flops in the you know, in a blizzard, driving with bald tires, bringing kids with 103 fevers because it's probably allergies, and now two feet of snow, sir. You once called because your child's mitten was missing, but now you're comfortable driving through snow apocalypse. The math isn't quite mathing. And here's the hard part. As directors, we don't get to be sarcastic out loud. We get to say, are you out of your mind? We have to say that inside of our head because what we have to say is, thank you for understanding that safety comes first, even when they absolutely do not understand, because leadership is emotional regulation, which is basically feeling everything and saying nothing dangerous. It's a superpower and it's also exhausting. Remember the golden question: how does this impact children and families? So let's apply that now. Staying open could mean risky travel, stress staff, low ratios, potential accidents, unsafe conditions, or closing could be minor mild inconvenience, extra screen time for the kids, some pajama day. So yeah, I think we'll choose the inconvenience every time. Because inconvenience does not equal emergency, but sometimes parents act like it does. But see the deeper issue is here's what here's what the reality is. It's not about snow, it's about how society treats childcare. We quietly become always open no matter what, like we're a gas station or the motel six or something like that. We're not. We're human-centered work. Teachers have families too. Teachers deserve safety too, because nothing says, you know, quality care, like, sorry, we're short staffed, Miss Jean just slid into a snowbank. But I'm moving on. We're moving on to the next question. I'm a director of a preschool. It's literally the most difficult job, and all I do is manage dumpster fires and emergencies and callouts. My nervous system is fried, and I don't know how any one person can do this job long term. I seriously do not know if I can last another year. This is my second. I manage 18 employees and have 80 children. I love the children, but I'm burning out quickly and don't know what to do. First of all, when people hear director, for some reason they picture like clipboards, vision boards, um, walking c walking in classrooms, smiling, talking about curriculum. It's so cute. It's very Pinterest. But what actually it is is you open up at 6 a.m. at 6 12, you have two call-outs, 6 14, a parent is at the door super early at 6 20. You have an annoying licensing email. Um, 7 05, you're making breakfast, and when in the toilet overflows, it gives you a little break to like 8 10. Then now you got staff crying about something. All of this before 9 o'clock. But let's keep it going for you know, shits and giggles. At 9 o'clock, someone randomly quits or they walk out. 10 o'clock, you know, you got a payroll error, 11:30. A parent wants a 45-minute conference about why she doesn't like that teacher in that room and she's never met her. You know, 1 o'clock, you haven't eaten. All of this has happened, and we're just at 1 o'clock. This can be exhausting. Every day, sometimes it doesn't feel like leadership, it's like emerging, it's like emergency response with crayons. And if your nervous system feels fried, good. It's because you're human, and there is nothing wrong with that. You are human because this job is basically high stakes, low resources, constant noise, emotional labor, zero downtime, and 80 small people making unpredictable life choices. And of course you're tired. You're running a small city with 18 employees and 80 children. Do you know who else manages that many humans? A cruise ship. And they get a staff of 200 and a bar. You get a broken laminator and a licensing binder. Here's the lie nobody tells directors. If you just get organized enough, it'll calm down. No, it does not. Because childcare isn't a spreadsheet problem. It is a human problem. Humans don't stabilize, they just rotate chaos. You don't eliminate fires, you just change which fire is burning. Monday may be staff, Tuesday, parent drama. Wednesday could be something like ratios, Thursday, an inspection, Friday, an existential crisis. That's the cycle, people. So if you're waiting for when things calm down, when things slow down, you'll be waiting forever. And here's what actually is happening: you're not tired from work, you're tired from constant villigence. Your brain never shuts off. You're always scanning who called out. Is that safe? Is licensing happy? Is a parent mad? Is a teacher about to quit? Is someone bleeding? It's like being a lifeguard for 10 straight hours a day. And of course, you're fried. Your brain thinks you've been chased by a bear all day long. Except the bear is named Brenda and she forgot to submit her timesheet again. This job cannot be done alone. It was never meant to be. But sometimes the industry quietly expects one director to manage staff, parents, manage complaints, finances, curriculum, enrollment, emotions, and all be cheerful. That's not leadership, that's emotional exploitation with a title. So if you're struggling, you're not weak, you're overloaded. Big difference. If you're a director listening, you're not failing, you're firefighting. And the fact that you're still showing up means you're stronger than you think. Now drink some water, delegate something, find something to delegate, and stop trying to save the world before 9 a.m. And we'll be right back. You know that moment in your day. The one when you stop, stare into the fluorescent lights, and think, There has to be a better way than whatever nonsense way we're doing right now. The best practice series is that better way. Cause these books, they're short, they're friendly, they're written in plain English, and not that education jargon sprinkled with fairy dust language. Hand them to your team and say, Please just do it like this so I don't lose my last good nerve. We've got guides on tours, policies, communication, safety, programming, and all the daily madness nobody warns you about. And the best part, your team will get it, families will feel the difference, and you get to breathe like a normal human again. Grab your copies at abbreviatedlearning.com or just risk another week of someone asking, wait, what's that procedure again? Hey team, it is interview time. You are interviewing and you ask the question, how was your working relationship with your previous supervisor? And they respond with, Well, it started in 2022. Brenda had just gotten promoted, even though everyone knew she shouldn't have. Stop right there, stop immediately. Do not hire them, do not hire them. But some of y'all will because you hire out of desperation. Why are we time traveling? Why are there chapters? And if your answers start sounding like previously on days of our preschool, thank them and move on. This is not a storytelling prompt. This is not open mic night. This is not your villain origin story. This is risk assessment. Here's another terrible answer. She literally destroyed my mental health. I still can't drive past the building. Ma'am, sir, I am not licensed to unpack this. I am hiring for pre-K, not therapy. Or something like, oh, she was just clueless, didn't know ratios, didn't know licensing, didn't know anything. I basically ran the place. Okay. So two things just happened. You transition, you just trashed your old boss, and you sound impossible to manage. Now I'm thinking if I hire you, I'm next. So pass. And now let's really decode this question because it's not about your old supervisor at all. I don't care if Brenda was a mess. I don't care if your director scheduled you 19 days straight. I don't care if payroll exploded twice. That's not what this is about. When I ask this question, I am secretly asking, are you emotionally stable at work? That's it. Specifically, I'm evaluating, can you take feedback? Because in ECE, I will correct things. Things like ratio, paperwork, licensing stuff, the usual parent communication. If you crumble or argue every time, we are both going to be exhausted. Can you handle conflict personally? I mean, can you handle conflict professionally? That's also what I'm looking for. Um, someone who's not texting co-workers about it, you know, forming a break room rebellion, posting passive aggressive quotes online, but someone that can actually have conversations, solutions, and positive adult behavior. Because let me tell you one thing: one dramatic employee can wreck an entire building. Morale tanks, turnover spikes, parents feel the tension, kids feel the tension, all because one person can't regulate themselves. So this question is not history, it's forecasting. I'm predicting your future behavior. Now let's talk strategy. Because interviews are marketing, they're not confessions. I don't need the truth, truth, I need the professional truth. So I want to hear something like I had a professional working relationship with my supervisor. Notice, not fake praise, there was no sarcasm, not you know, we survived each other. Just calm and calm people and get hired. Or something like we communicated regularly about expectations and goals. That translates to I'm coachable. Uh that that's something that's music to my ears. And if you say this, I am literally writing strong candidate on my interview notes. Let me just end with this. From my side of the table, I am not hiring the most entertaining person, I'm not hiring the most dramatic storyteller, I am hiring the least stressful human. Because in early childhood education, everything else is already stressful. So if you walk in calm, steady, professional, you win. If you walk in with, let me tell you what Brenda did energy, you're done immediately. So next time an employer asks, you know, how was your working relationship with your per with your previous supervisor? Don't give them a documentary, don't give them trauma, don't give them a revenge speech, give them calm, professional, and stable. Make them think this person won't ruin my Tuesday. And then congratulations, you're probably gonna be hired, or at least on the short list, but if they start off with a monologue, don't hire them. Move on, do not hire them, and we'll be right back. Listen, if your center or program is currently held together by tape, caffeine, and vibes, you might need consulting, and that's where abbreviated learning comes in. We work with childcare centers, studios, and youth programs that are doing their absolute best while simultaneously drowning in staffing issues, quality, enrollment gaps, and with that one parent who emails 14 times a day. We help you streamline your systems, fix the operational chaos, train your teachers, and get the program functioning like you're not just winging it every morning at 6 a.m. Whether you need policies, tours, staff development, or someone to just look at your program and say, Okay, here's how we unjanky this. We're here for you. Visit abbreviatedlearning.com to book consulting for your center or program because stumbling through work is funny on the podcast, but not in real life. Okay, it is policy time, and remember, something became a policy cause someone demessed the shit up for all of us. Today's policy is not hiring relatives. The policy reads as such: the company may refuse to hire relatives of present team members if doing so could create supervision, safety, morale, or conflict of interest issues. Childcare already feels like Thanksgiving dinner with licensing requirements. We do not need to literally hire the cousins. On paper, this sounds mean. I get it, it does. It sounds cold, it sounds corporate, like we're running a bank. But let me explain something very clinically and very clear. This policy exists because someone somewhere tried it and it went completely off the rails. I have been in this situation before because policies are not created because everything went smoothly, they are created because something caught on fire, emotionally or illegally, or both. Here's how it always starts. A staff member says, My sister needs a job, my boyfriend loves kids, my cousin just moved here, my aunt has experience, and your brain goes, Oh, good, reliable, built-in trust, easy hire. Wrong. So wrong. Because the second you mix family and employment, you are no longer running a center, you are running a reality show. Let's start, let's just say you hire somebody's sister. Cool, day one is fine, day three is fine. Now you're in a week two, and you have to coach her because I don't know. She keeps forgetting ratios or whatever. So you say, Hey, let's talk about procedures. Normal leadership, normal things that you would do. Except now, her sister, who already works for you, is in the break room. Like, why are you targeting my family? Targeting, ma'am, she left 11 kids unattended to go heat up some coffee. That's two things wrong. I can tell you right there, in that one line. This is not personal, but to families, it's always personal. You can't supervise objectively anymore. Every piece of feedback becomes you're attacking us, and suddenly you're not a director, you're a referee with toddlers and adults, same behavior, bigger vocabulary, and for some, the same vocabulary. Here's what happens with relatives rules soften, and childcare can't afford for soft rules. You start hearing things like, it's fine, that's my cousin. I already I already showed her that she doesn't need the full training. I'll clock her in, I'll clock in for her. She doesn't need to sign out. No, no shortcuts because licensing does not care if you share DNA. Background checks do not say, Oh, cool, you're related. Skip it. Safety requires structure, not family favors. The second you bend a rule just this once, that's the day something goes wrong. It always happens that way. And guess who it lands on? It doesn't land on the cousin, it lands on the director. Always the director. Now, this one is perceived favoritism. Nothing kills staff morale faster. Nothing. If when two siblings work together and one gets promoted, everyone assumes it's rigged. Even if it was earned, if you discipline one, everyone thinks you're too soft. If you discipline both, everyone thinks you're retaliating. There is no winning in this situation, and now the center isn't a team, it's the family group versus everyone else. Congratulations, you just started preschool game of thrones. And now let me tell you about Brenda. Because every policy, as I say, has a Brenda. So imagine this. You hire Brenda. Lovely, warm, great with kids. Brenda says, My nephew needs a job. He's amazing. And you think, sure, how bad could it be? Fast forward three months. Here's what you have now. Brenda and her nephew take breaks together. They call out together. They swap shifts without telling anyone. They cover for each other's mistakes. Incident reports mysteriously disappear. The nephew shows up late every day. But Brenda clocks him in anyway because he was basically here. Basically, here is not a timestamp, Brenda. Then one day, you coach the nephew for being on his phone in the classroom. Totally reasonable. And then Brenda loses her shit. Now she's crying and now she's defensive and she's telling everyone you're targeting her family. By lunch, half the staff thinks you're unfair. By 2 p.m., Brenda's sister, who doesn't even work there, has now called the center. At 4 o'clock, the nephew quits dramatically. 4 05, Brenda quits in solidarity, and then at 4 07, you're short two teachers and scrambling for ratio. All because you thought, what's the harm in hiring family? That's the harm. That's right there. That right there, the Brenda effect. Here's the thing. Your job isn't to make hiring feel nice, it's to reduce risk. Every hire either stabilizes the program or adds emotional complexity. Family hires almost always add complexity, and complexity equals stress, and stress equals mistakes. And then mistakes in childcare are not oops, their reports or lawsuits or news stories. So yeah, we have a policy because we trust each other is not a safety strategy. Just saying. Well, that is all that I have for you guys on this episode. I want you to remember to reach out to families not attending and see what their barriers are. See what resources you can help give them. And if somebody complains about you know a blizzard closure, for them the weather radar and just go make some hot chocolate, you've earned it. Until next time. Bye. Alright, that's another episode of Stumbling Through Work where educators figure shit out. If today made you laugh, think, or just say, Wow, that's my life, go ahead and subscribe and leave a review. Or share this with another educator who's one licensing violation away from quitting. I'm Jared Cuff. See you next time, probably stumbling, but still showing up.