I must warn you that if you are thinking about working with children, it’s not for everyone. Whether you are planning to be a teacher, nanny, PSA or even set up a creche, you’ll be faced with many challenges. I think the biggest problem here is that many people believe if you’re a mom, you’ll automatically be good at working with children.  To work with kids I think you need to be patient, understand the difficulties and know how to be a figure of authority. With that in mind here are my tips for those hoping to work with today’s youth.

Your first step is deciding on the path you’re going to take to work with kids. For instance, if you want to work in a school and you have a degree you can sign up for a one-year teaching course. After that, you’ll start gaining experience, first hand in the classroom. If you are thinking about being a teaching assistant or preschool teacher, you will require less training. But, you will need to understand the responsibility you’re taking on. Teaching assistants often work with children who have special needs such as ADD and on some days may face bigger challenges than the teacher. If you want to be a nanny, you still need qualifications. You will have to take one of the early childhood courses available in your area. By doing this, you’ll gain all the information you need to work with kids. The experience will come later.

Understand Modern Challenges

The world has changed, not always for the better. Teachers, parents and anyone else whose life revolves around children are facing new difficulties. Self harm has doubled in the last year in children under 16. Researchers believe the number could be as high as seventy percent of all children will self-harm at some point in their life. Bullying is also on the rise but now takes place outside of the classroom, online. If you’re working with children you can’t underestimate the effects these issues can have. Bullying victims can believe suicide is their only option if the issue is not dealt with. Children don’t self harm for no reason and there will be an underlying cause. If you take on a duty of care, it’s your responsibility to notice the signs and help the child in need.

Know Who You Have To Be

If you’re working with children, it’s important you know what and who you have to be. As much as you may want to, if you are working in a school, you shouldn’t strive to be the child’s friend. Instead, you should be someone they can look up to and that they can trust. Perhaps most importantly, you should be someone they respect. You must be careful when walking the line between being a child’s friend and an authoritative figure.

I hope you find this information valuable. Remember, when you start working with children, you will be a part of what shapes who they are and who they become.

Jennifer Wolfe

Jennifer Wolfe, a writer-teacher-mom, is dedicated to finding the extraordinary in the ordinary moments of life by thinking deeply, loving fiercely, and teaching audaciously. Jennifer is a Google Certified Educator, Hyperdoc fanatic, and a voracious reader. Read her stories on her blog, mamawolfe, and grab free copies of her teaching and parenting resources.

More Posts - Website

Follow Me:

I don’t recognize any of the faces at pick-up. It’s been two years since kindergarten, and I stand in the hallway like the nanny in our small town of well-dressed, Volvo-driving mommies. They chat like old friends, tossing the occasional glance my way. I know there are checking me out, wondering which kid I belonged to. My outfit screams working mom, but without the pumps and pantyhose. They can tell I’m not white collar. Part of me secretly loves the confusion I’m causing. Part of me wants to cry.

Their little brown heads pour out of the room. I scan Hello Kitty and Bionicle backpacks and watch as one by one they run to their moms and then scramble to the play structure. Most days that’s where I find him, as I breathlessly ride onto the blacktop. The bungee cord on my bike basket secures tote bags overflowing with papers to grade and an empty travel mug, The other moms smile at me – that half-friendly, half smirky smile that lets me know I don’t exactly belong.

They don’t know how fast I ride the two miles to get here, how quickly I scurry out of my classroom to get to his. They don’t know that with my oldest child I got to work part-time, and volunteered in her classroom, and was home every day after school and knew all of her friends and their moms by first name. These moms, those whose boys scamper with mine, they don’t know me at all. They probably never will. They don’t know how my heart aches to be there every day before the bell rings, to have the conversations on the sidelines of the playground and drive on the field trips. They don’t know that someday, their sons and daughters will be the reason I’m not with my own – that their child will be my child in class, and all this time and energy and heartache will pour right from me into their teen…

I see him, the last one out. He carefully packs up his brown camouflage backpack. I cautiously enter, not wanting to invade this special place. I understand this is a time for his teacher to breathe, to pause, to center. He doesn’t notice me yet, but she does. “Hola”, she smiles as she greets me. I like her. I like knowing he spends his day with someone who cares. He looks up and runs into my arms.

“Mommy!” His eyes shine as he sees me. He is so small as I circle my arms around him, hugging all my love into his little body. I smile at her, say “Thank you”, and hold his tiny hand as we walk out the door toward our bikes. Together.

p.s. – Are you a working mom? I’ve been a teacher for 24 years – you might like to read about how I’ve spent my days with other people’s children teaching, creating community, doing global service in education, and finding the teacher-mom balance.

Related articles

• Travel with mamawolfe: Cementing Friendships in Nicaragua
• Mothers, Rejoice in the Moment

Jennifer Wolfe

Jennifer Wolfe, a writer-teacher-mom, is dedicated to finding the extraordinary in the ordinary moments of life by thinking deeply, loving fiercely, and teaching audaciously. Jennifer is a Google Certified Educator, Hyperdoc fanatic, and a voracious reader. Read her stories on her blog, mamawolfe, and grab free copies of her teaching and parenting resources.

More Posts - Website

Follow Me:

As a teacher, I’m trained in school safety procedures. I know how to protect my students in the classroom.

My first instinct when I heard about the Newtown school shooting, however, was to gather my own children near to me. My 16-year-old daughter and I had a road trip planned that afternoon, so we listened to the radio as the news of the victims and shooter began to emerge. She saw tears rolling down my face as I drove.

I tried to explain why I was crying; it’s the shared grief among the community of motherhood that couldn’t be felt by anyone who hadn’t held their baby in their arms. I explained to her about how we cannot fathom the pain the parents of the slain children must be experiencing. I praised the words of commitment toward ending gun violence, knowing that was a tangible action she could grasp. I shared my sadness and horror that a son would kill his mother–but there is no explaining that. All I could do as I drove along was hold her hand and share my tears.

image courtesy of freedigitalphotos.net

Jennifer Wolfe

Jennifer Wolfe, a writer-teacher-mom, is dedicated to finding the extraordinary in the ordinary moments of life by thinking deeply, loving fiercely, and teaching audaciously. Jennifer is a Google Certified Educator, Hyperdoc fanatic, and a voracious reader. Read her stories on her blog, mamawolfe, and grab free copies of her teaching and parenting resources.

More Posts - Website

Follow Me:

The pathway looks just as it did 40 years ago when I first rode to his office.  Tiny aggregate stones cemented along juniper prickly bushes, apartment parking lots on either side.  Only the legs moving the pedals had changed; a bit older, yet still the memories flash  back to Icees and Pay n Save nail polish.

It still smells the same, too.  That dental kind of tart, sterile and oddly comforting smell.  The waiting room, updated, yet still the same configuration as always.  The receptionist smiles as welcomingly as if decades haven’t passed.

I stretch back in the chair, searching for the familiar 70’s wooden signs warning me to floss and keep a clean smile.  The poster high overhead has been replaced, I notice.

“Ooh, I’ve never seen that before,” chimes the technician, a familiar face, yet only within the last decade.  Not something I want to hear, even though she claims there is good news along with the bad.

But I dodn’t panic.  I sink deeper, breathe, and know he will take care of me, just like he always has.  She steps out, and I overhear her telling him I’ll need an afternoon appointment – because I’m a teacher.  He hasn’t checked on me yet, so I fill her in.  “He’s the only dentist I’ve ever seen.  In my whole life.  We were neighbors when I was little.  And I even taught his son,” I inform her.

“You wouldn’t believe how many people say that.  The only dentist part, I mean,” she replies with a smile.  “It’s amazing.  Four generations, even.  People just keep coming back, bringing their families, their kids.”

I smile to myself.  Of course I believe it.  Well, maybe not the four generations part.  His icy white hair may hint at his age just a bit, but certainly not four generations.

When he enters I’m back in elementary school again.  Not many people can call me by my childhood nickname, but I wouldn’t have anything else right now.  He asks about my dad.  “Isn’t he getting to retirement age?” His eyes twinkle as he speaks.

“Are you kidding?  He can’t retire yet- he’s just a young guy,” I tease back, knowing he’s remembering those days when his kids and I used to kick-the-can down Mulberry Lane.

“And anyways,” I continue.  “He keeps getting too many clients who want him.  They like the experienced guys.”  No kidding here.

As he chuckles in agreement, my body folds into the chair and we begin.  It’s just like it’s always been.  I have no idea what’s really going on inside my mouth, but I’m ok with that.  For a type-A teacher like myself, that’s an uncomfortable feeling.  But strangely, it’s ok right now.

It’s never rushed, never wrong, there is never a misstep.  His skill doesn’t change with years.  He knows just how to make me feel at ease.  “Just sit back, kid,” he commands.  I haven’t been called that for a very long time.

When he’s done, he steps back and looks me in the eye.  All seriousness.  

“I can’t thank you enough for teaching my grandson.  He’s amazing.  He’s planning for college, creating amazing projects.  He’s learning to fly a plane,” he boasts in only the way a grandfather can.  “Thank you.”

My numb mouth cannot keep up with my brain, and I smile in thanks as he walks out of the room.

Biking home, I’m still in elementary school.  It’s all too familiar right now – just a bit farther and I’ll be back home.  Nothing much has changed in 40 years.

But as I enter my adult home, just a few blocks away, my brain and mouth collide.  Thank you, Dr. Spore, I whisper to the empty room.  Thank you.  

I’ve come full circle.

free image courtesy of FreeDigitalImages.net

Jennifer Wolfe

Jennifer Wolfe, a writer-teacher-mom, is dedicated to finding the extraordinary in the ordinary moments of life by thinking deeply, loving fiercely, and teaching audaciously. Jennifer is a Google Certified Educator, Hyperdoc fanatic, and a voracious reader. Read her stories on her blog, mamawolfe, and grab free copies of her teaching and parenting resources.

More Posts - Website

Follow Me:

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about my children growing up and away from us.

When they were born, I never wanted to let them go.  Sliding their precious bodies into another’s arms was reserved only for moments desperate for solitude.  Sleeping side by side, we monitored their every movement, every breath.

When my son started kindergarten, I was excited.  He was so ready to formalize his education – he loved learning, loved socializing, and eagerly anticipated learning Spanish like his big sister had.  He smiled all the way to school, and babbled about his adventures all the way home.

When my daughter started middle school, I was elated.  Finally, she would be on my campus, and all the regrets I had about not volunteering in her classes or driving on field trips might be soothed by knowing I could see her every day.  She immersed herself in friendships, studying, and never missed a dance.

When my son left elementary school, I was saddened.  Eleven years spent between the two suddenly evaporated without even being able to take one final bike ride to pick him up from school on the last day.  He was so ready to move on with his education – he loved his friends, loved socializing, and couldn’t wait to ride his bike with his friends all the way to the middle school.

When my daughter started high school, I was nervous.  This is when it all comes down to the end, the grades, the transcripts, the test scores and college admissions.  She would get her driver’s license, go to the prom, and before I knew it, leave home.

The clock in my heart began counting down.

When my son starts middle school this year, I am still half-way holding on.  I can’t quite let go, can’t pass him off to what’s next even though I know it will happen despite me. I squeeze my eyes shut and hope for it to happen painlessly, for it to slip through my awareness without having to feel the drop of my heart, the skip of my breath.

I’ve been thinking about them both lately.  I’ve been hoping that the days will stretch on endlessly, the mothering will just shape-shift into some kind of form that I can still cling to even when they’re not here.  I’m not ready to let them go, not eager for that kind of solitude.  I’ve been trying to cast every moment in bronze, and not let them slip through my fingers.

Jennifer Wolfe

Jennifer Wolfe, a writer-teacher-mom, is dedicated to finding the extraordinary in the ordinary moments of life by thinking deeply, loving fiercely, and teaching audaciously. Jennifer is a Google Certified Educator, Hyperdoc fanatic, and a voracious reader. Read her stories on her blog, mamawolfe, and grab free copies of her teaching and parenting resources.

More Posts - Website

Follow Me: