Our profession is all about teaching. It's important to remember that we are also always learning. We learn from other teachers, directors, and from our professional development.

I learned about gratitude from a sweet little boy who was in my care. He was eight years old, and it was a few days after Christmas. The school-age children were in the center because of the winter break. We were talking about how their holidays were going and the children were writing about their favorite parts of their holiday. After my group went to their next activity, I was reading their papers and noticing the expected lists of gifts — toys and video games, as well as family feasts and lighting of candles. Then I came to this little boy’s list. He was grateful that every person in his family now has their own pillow ... their own pillow. He never mentioned not getting toys or missing out on anything at all. He was simply grateful. He was grateful for something that most of us take for granted as an everyday necessity.

Years have passed since that day. I became a center director and am now the owner of a training organization, so I'm no longer in a center, however, I have never forgotten what that little boy taught me. It was far more than I ever taught others in all the years I was in a classroom. I learned many things from these children and try to use those lessons in every professional development course I put together today.

My passion as an early childhood educator is driven by a profound desire to transform early education. Over the past two decades, my work has been both rewarding and challenging. While I have witnessed many positive changes, I continually confront the difficulties of being part of a system that profoundly affects Black and Brown children. Systemic issues such as poverty, racism, and inadequate resources create barriers that impact their fundamental needs and hinder their overall development. These challenges underscore the urgent need for transformative change to better support these children and address the disparities they face.

Attending school provided valuable knowledge and guidance, but it was my firsthand classroom experience that truly exposed the deficiencies in educational practices and how they impact each child's learning journey, regardless of race, ethnicity, socioeconomic status, or identity. This experience deepened my understanding of the complex dynamics within our education system and inspired me to seek practical, impactful solutions. I am especially eager to explore how cultural factors, both constraining and enabling, shape early childhood education.

It was during this time that I recognized the need for a clear, unbiased perspective—free from the influences of politics and financial constraints—in decision-making roles. I became convinced that with my objective viewpoint, I could significantly influence the development of effective and equitable educational policies. Transitioning to an administrative role allowed me to wield the power and influence necessary to drive change and advocate for our children. I am committed to developing curricula that address the intersection of race, poverty, and education while equipping young learners with essential life skills for their future.

My professional journey has involved applying and adapting educational practices while fostering meaningful relationships with children, parents, colleagues, and administrators. These experiences have reinforced my belief in the necessity of a strong theoretical foundation, supported by research, to create safe, equitable, and culturally responsive learning environments. I also take great pride in facilitating professional learning opportunities for individuals and teams, believing that strong leadership can inspire and guide others toward innovation in education.

Part 1:

I actually fell into teaching for the convenience of having my oldest daughter go to a private school. I thought, I have my bachelor’s in political science - let me just go and work at the school. How hard can it be? I applied, and just kind of got thrown in. I was given a classroom and thought, They’re little kids; I’m just going to watch them. Basically, I had no idea that it was more than just watching kids play in a classroom.

So, it was pretty frustrating the first few months, and then the director advised me to get my Child Development Associate (CDA) and take some early childhood classes to get an idea of how children develop and the social-emotional aspect of interacting with them. Unless you have the education, the exposure, you don’t realize that everything is so purposefully set up in the environment for these children. Yes, they are playing, but it’s purposeful playing. They’re learning how to interact with each other as they play. They’re learning conflict resolution, how to have discussions, and how to respect each other when speaking. They are learning the whole social interaction of reciprocity - waiting and taking turns, cleaning up after themselves, and being aware of a schedule. Taking those classes really changed my life and opened my eyes to some biases I didn’t realize I had. You have these ideas about children showing intelligence and who is most worthy of your attention.

So that really pushed me to pursue more classes and, later down the line, getting my master’s in education. To have culturally sensitive teaching and culturally diverse teaching, we need to have an awareness of ourselves as adults. That is going to affect how we’re interacting with the children, and how we’re giving them the attention they need to flourish in the classroom.

I taught at different schools with different demographics. I was an assistant director and worked on the administrative side. I learned a lot working in different areas of education. It was rewarding, but I went back to pre-K because I just loved the fact that I was honored with this child that’s raw and still in the throes of the joys of life. You’re given this opportunity to create this safe space for them - a space where they can learn. Because if they don’t feel safe, and don’t feel seen, and don’t feel heard, then there is no opportunity for them to learn because they’re just in the space of survival. So that responsibility weighed on me.

I've done this for 26 years, but these last two years, they were hard. This work pushes you as a professional, and you have to push the boundaries and challenge yourself. I don't think we are valued enough or appreciated. We are given a curriculum, a lesson plan, and sent off to do what we do, but I don't think people take pre-K seriously. I just hope there is more conversation among all the stakeholders in this. It’s just kind of like the actual goal - which is developmentally whole children - is lost in the sauce. What can we do together? What can be done with the laws that are in place, what can teachers do in the classroom, what can parents be doing?

We need to all be having the same conversation.

Part 2:

My classroom has a cozy corner. The kids move their faces around on the mood meter. I have them talk about what they’re feeling right now. Let’s look at the mirror and at our faces, let’s look at these pictures. Giving a child that tool to adequately express themselves takes most of the behavioral issues out of the classroom.

It could be hard sometimes. I would just be getting my classroom routine down, and I would be given a child that needs extra attention because they weren’t successful in another classroom. It is going to be disruptive to the whole class. So, you have to step outside of yourself and your ego. Rather than seeing this as something happening to me, it is something happening for me. I really had to sit down and think, Okay this is a chance for me to make a difference - create a lesson plan, an interaction, an environment for this child.

There was a child who just destroyed my classroom, I mean like threw a shelf across the room. In the midst of all that chaos I had to take a deep breath, make sure first and foremost the other children are safe, that this child is safe as well, then think to myself, This kid is coming in angry and worked up. They need to have the emotional language to express how they are feeling.

I had to be proactive and look out for him. I had to see how he came in, greet him, give him a direct, Hey, how are you feeling? It doesn’t look like you are feeling so great. Let’s go ahead and put your backpack in your cubby. Let’s go sit down together. Let’s talk. And as I did that, I realized that for the most part, it really diffused any kind of emotional outburst because I caught it early. I saw him, acknowledged him, and helped him develop his emotional language.

The major outbursts and the destroying of the classroom decreased to almost zero. He still had his moments and meltdowns, but he is also four, so that’s going to happen. But now, if he had a meltdown, he was speaking through his emotions. I would reassure him, I would give him a hug, and I would let him be seen. I would help him interact with his peers, because a lot of times it’s that they’re frustrated because they don’t know what to say or how to say it. So, what do they do? They hit, they throw, they destroy things. They need to be validated - that what they are feeling is valid. Yes, you’re angry, I see that, and it’s okay to be angry, but let’s direct it in an appropriate way.

I think about him and the progress he made when he was in my class. It was amazing. I think about what this child has been through - because he’d been through the foster system which was traumatic in itself. I was given the honor and responsibility of helping him with the emotional language, helping his mother gain trust back in the system again. But on the flip side, I think, When this child leaves me, who is he going to? When this child leaves me, will he be able to get the same support that I gave him so that he can continue to be successful? Giving them these tools, knowing that it could be undone - it’s those things that really keep me up at night and make me wonder, What could I do on my end to be better? What can I do to advocate for them? So, I continue to support these parents, so they can fight for their child.

Getting into education was a career change for me. I was working in engineering and went back to school for my master’s in education. I spent 15 years teaching in public schools, working with students from kindergarten through eighth grade. Two years ago, I opened a group family day care. I had worked tirelessly in public schools trying to close the gap, but I realized I wanted to make a difference in a child's earliest years - that foundational stage to shape, guide, and create an environment where children can thrive from the start. I love it. It’s been a great transition, and I feel like in many ways, I’m still doing what I did in public school, but now it’s more on my terms. Becoming a parent shifted my perspective on education, and it’s incredibly fulfilling to provide children with a more personalized and meaningful approach.

One of the biggest challenges in education is individualization. Children come from all walks of life – different backgrounds, religions, abilities, and levels of knowledge. The challenge is figuring out how to keep everyone engaged while making sure they feel included in a shared learning experience. I think a lot of us need to hear that we’re not always going to be in control, and that’s okay. Sometimes, we need to give children space to make their own choices - let them figure it out for themselves, and they can surprise us. It empowers them and lets them take ownership of their learning. I tell new teachers all the time: You may have the perfect lesson plan, but at least one child will not follow it the way you expect. We have to be flexible; when we allow kids to explore in their own way, that’s where the real learning happens, and they often teach us something in return.

One of the most important lessons I've learned is that building relationships with children is just as crucial as what we teach them. Understanding what they enjoy, learning about their families, and framing conversations with care are essential. As educators, we play many roles; we’re the nurse, teacher, parent, therapist, and whoever else a child needs in that moment. As their role models, our words and actions deeply impact them. What children hear you say about them really matters. They don’t just absorb knowledge; they absorb how we make them feel. Even babies who can’t speak yet are very perceptive. They pick up on tone, body language, and the way we interact with them. I often remind my staff that knowing CPR, developmental stages, and behavior management strategies is vital, but so is being mindful of our emotions and how we engage with the kids. If a staff member is having a tough day, I encourage them to step away and find support. What we never want to do is make a child feel less than or unworthy.

Another important lesson is that all behavior has meaning and it’s our job as educators to figure out what a child is trying to communicate. I had a parent who was very concerned because one of her 16-month-old twins was biting everything and everyone at home and she was afraid it would be a major issue. It was interesting though because after an entire year, not once did he attempt to bite anyone in our care. Every day the mom would ask, “Did he bite his brother? Did he bite the other kids? Did he try to bite you?” My answer was always, “No, he doesn’t bite. He’s actually incredibly sweet, loves to help, and enjoys being part of the activities.” After many conversations, we figured out the root of the issue. It turned out that at home, his older siblings were much more independent, while he and his twin were still treated like babies. He wanted to be included, but couldn’t express it, which led to frustration and biting. Once we identified this, we brought in a speech therapist and with some adjustments at home, the biting stopped.

I’ve been really lucky to work with parents who trust and value my program’s approach. Many of them understand that their children will learn and develop here, but that it doesn’t have to be with pencil and paper. They recognize that play, movement, and hands-on experiences are just as important as academics. Learning happens through dancing, exploring, and engaging with the world. Embedded in those moments are all the essential skills they’re going to need to succeed.

]I am the owner, director, and one of the lead teachers of a very small program in the Catskills in upstate NY. I first found this program as a parent, actually—right after finishing my degree in early childhood education and having my second child. My plan had been to go into public education and work in our local school district, but it didn’t make sense for me to go into teaching right away because I had two kids under the age of 3 and I was able to take my kids with me to work. I then found this home-based child care program in a tiny little house in the woods. And that's where I really started to learn more about what a play-based program means.

I learned first through the lens of being a parent. I had taken a lot of classes on education and early childhood, and they would say, Play is best, but didn’t really expand on that. So, you were left thinking, Okay, but what does that look like? I think that's why a lot of programs rely on worksheets and cookie-cutter stuff, because that’s what we’re shown. This program was very different — I experienced almost like, unschooling, in a way. They let the kids learn through experience, and it took the pressure off kindergarten readiness in some ways.

It’s set up to encourage children to connect with the world around them and the things they’ve expressed interest in. As much space as possible is allowed for a child-led curriculum while also meeting NYS Pre-K expectations. One of the ways to do this is by offering hands-on experiences. So, multi-sensory learning like making letters out of sand or playdough, singing and dancing about a topic, baking or cooking to learn math skills, and using recipes to practice early reading skills.

I watched my daughter flourish in that type of environment and then enrolled my son. When I enrolled my son, I began subbing on the days they were both in care while continuing to work part-time at my other job. The program’s owner eventually decided that she wanted to expand but thought it would be too much to do on her own. She approached me and asked if I would help grow the existing program. I was definitely interested because I had the educational knowledge and the business experience — so I was able to blend those two skill sets.

We opened up as a center in 2016. About three years later, she was offered a teaching position at another school with a significant pay raise. It wasn’t that her heart wasn’t in our center; she just couldn’t afford to not take the other job. I ended up having to make a very hard decision — do I close, or do I try to do this by myself?

The first year I ran everything on my own was the 2019–2020 school year, which, as we know, was during COVID. Navigating everything with parents, students, and staff —especially in the beginning, with all the conflicting rules and regulations — I made mistakes, but I also learned a lot, real fast. It was supposed to be a "two week pause" - but we were forced to close from March until the end of the school year through our UPK programming. One of my biggest priorities during the time we were closed was making sure that my staff stayed connected and got paid. I was able to get us Paycheck Protection Program (PPP) grants, and we were one of the only summer camp programs to open for June/July 2020 with some really strict regulations.

We were outside all day in the Catskills and in all types of weather. The only reason we ever went inside was for the bathroom. It was a big learning experience, but the kids really needed it, and it put us on the map, because people didn’t really know about us before then. We continue to try to spend at least half our day, every day, outside. It’s very affirming just how much research and peer-reviewed articles support the value of play and outdoor learning experiences. Spending time outdoors, especially when given opportunities for risky play (involves children experimenting with their own limits) and interacting with loose parts (materials with no obvious play purpose) has been shown to lead to increased physical strength and stamina, improved motor planning, increased self-regulation skills, improved focused and attention, improvement in cooperative and collaboration skills, increased levels of creativity and imagination, and so much more! One of my favorites is that children that are given opportunities for outdoor learning in ECE are more likely to have pro-environmental behaviors in adulthood.

Our camp fills up every summer, and we need to have summer camp for some of that money to carry us through the school year. I can’t magic more money into early childhood or for parents. I accept private, universal pre-k, and county-paid families, so there are no more areas for me to pull money from right now. It can be hard to run a program all year round. The teachers work so hard and can get burnt out. It can feel like you can’t take a break. I believe very strongly in a healthy work-life balance, and I close our program for a couple of weeks every August so my staff doesn’t work all summer. It is to the dismay of a lot of families, but I make sure that everybody gets a break. We are nurturers and caretakers; if you call out, there isn’t always someone there to pick up the slack. I advocate as much as I can for my staff, and I pay them the best that I can, but it’s not enough — they deserve better. I have a fantastic team of certified educators who are all happy to be here, and I want to fairly compensate them for that.

The work is exhausting but something I find a lot of joy in. I can see the growth, and I can see the families are happy. I feel like the work is not a measurable success in the immediate - but it’s something very special, and I want to continue to do it.

I’ve worked in special education for 20 years. I advocate for and promote awareness of children with exceptionalities, and I currently work in respite care (a service to provide extra help for parents who have children with Autism or Down Syndrome). Working with children with exceptionalities has been the happiest time of my life.

I've supported children in the classroom as they developed their language and attention skills. Many of the students had behavioral challenges, especially because preschoolers are still building their self-awareness and the ability to follow directions. I think it’s important to recognize that these children are caring and intelligent even if they hit or misbehave.

One child I’ll never forget was selectively mute after surviving a terrible house fire. He had stopped speaking entirely. I never tried to force him to speak; instead, I focused on creating a safe, supportive environment for him to feel secure enough to express himself in his own way. I would often use visuals to communicate with him. For example, I would ask him a simple question like, “What do you want?” and then present him with a few visuals that reflected different items or activities. He would point to his favorite toys, snacks, or walk over to the door to indicate he had to use the bathroom. On the last day of school, he finally said, “Bye Miss Deb.” All the teachers and I were elated that he had found the confidence to speak on his own terms.

Another child I remember was acting out. He would hit or pull the hair of his peers or sit and stare at the ceiling. He would only become attentive when given new material. After observing him closely, I realized he was bored. Even though he was four, he had already mastered most of our program. After advocating for appropriate assessment, I discovered he was performing at the level of a seven-year-old. With the principal’s support, we were able to move him into a general education setting.

Children have taught me to always be a good listener and to always operate with an inclusive mindset. Non-verbal students will tap their belly to indicate hunger. Some children with motor issues will cry when they want to get out of their wheelchairs. A child with hip and/or bone issues will “W-sit” (sitting with knees out in front and ankles/feet on either side of their hips). Over the years, I’ve found that even though I'm the educator, the students can be the true teachers in letting us know how to meet their needs.

I had a very unusual introduction to early education. I’m actually a medical speech pathologist by training. I started out in the hospital system, working with both kids and adults. As I began seeing more private cases on the side, I became deeply interested in how to improve care in the most functional of settings for kids – school. It was fun to figure out, but also very hard. Eventually, I began working for a private practice, which led me further into the world of education.

I had cases in both public and private schools, and I noticed that students who needed some support but did not qualify for services was a pervasive issue across socioeconomic levels. All children (with a diagnosis or not) need to practice certain skills to be independent walkers, talkers, and readers. Literacy is another important issue in early education.

One student I will never forget was a little girl I met when she was four. Her mom, a former speech pathologist, noticed she wasn’t remembering her shapes or letters and was confusing her left and right. She was a dancer, and when the group went right, she went left. Over time, it became clear that she had a language-based literacy disorder. At the time, I didn’t know much about dyslexia, but I could see she was having trouble with word retrieval and recalling letters, numbers, and colors. Her mom insisted we figure it out together, and we did. For years, we worked on literacy and language for an hour every day. It was hard, but she stayed in mainstream school and eventually became a fluent reader. Today, she’s thriving.

In 2019, I launched The Indy Lab, starting with a class called Playful Literacy to teach parents about the Science of Reading (a comprehensive body of research that guides literacy programs) and to reteach struggling readers basic phonics. I wanted to engage children in play and early literacy, and I wanted to teach parents what they could do at home to support those skills. When COVID hit, parents asked if we could do more with our students, so we broadened the curriculum with STEM, dramatic play, and project-based learning. The Indy Lab* now provides preschool, school-age, and summer programs for more than 50 families in Westchester. It’s been an incredible journey of figuring out how to marry what we know in medicine with what we know in education.

Having a teacher who can be diagnostic and clinical about what’s happening with a child’s development, and who can enrich and practice skills in a play-based, child-led manner, is essential. Parents often give more weight to the perspective of clinicians, even if they don’t always agree. When a teacher raises the same concern, it doesn’t always carry the same authority. Teachers’ insights can be undervalued – even though they spend hours every day observing children in ways parents and specialists can’t. That’s why we emphasize teamwork, data, and objectivity in observations. Our educators are trained to use data to ground their insights, so that when they have to raise something difficult with a parent, they have the evidence, confidence, and professional standing to be heard.

Ethical, transparent communication is also essential. Regardless of whether the conversation is easy or difficult, I ask myself, Will this benefit the child? If the answer is yes, then I’ll adjust my language so it’s received as well as possible, but I’ll say it.

This work is by far the hardest thing I’ve ever done. But it’s also the most meaningful. In our program, we work hard to make sure teachers are respected for their expertise and parents feel like true partners. At the heart of everything we do is one guiding principle: children's development comes first.

NYWFC note: *Indy Lab is a QUALITYstarsNY participating program with a 4-star rating!

I got into this field in an interesting way. We are a family business. My mother opened a child care program in 1966 in Webster, New York. It was a one-room schoolhouse. She was kind of a pioneer because women didn't really get loans back then. She was a single woman who took a risk. At her height, I think she had ten centers between Rochester and Buffalo.

My original plan was to be an artist. I have an art degree and thought I’m going to paint my whole life. After I graduated, though, the opportunity presented itself for me to work with school-age children at one of my mother’s programs. That was 29 years ago. Once you start working with children, you get attached really quickly. I found that I was natural at it, and I really enjoyed working with that age group. I did art shows with them and mentored a couple of kids. As the years went by, I would hear back from them: one applied to art school and another became locally famous. I really felt like I had a hand in that, and it was so rewarding to me. So, I feel like my path has led me to where I’m supposed to be. My mom is now retired, and my sister and I run four centers for infants/toddlers through pre-school.

All children are natural-born artists. It’s up to the adults to foster that. Anyone can facilitate art with children. They don't have to be an artist. They just have to be willing to get messy. All this technology is wonderful - I use it, my teenagers use it - but going back to the basics is really the best thing for children. We're talking sand, water, paint, and drawing materials, available anytime. It shouldn't only be a special activity. We ask parents to bring in old t-shirts so we always have ready-to-go smocks. I also communicate with staff and parents that these are the years to get messy, to play, to get wet, and to get dirty – this is how children learn about the world: through exploration, touching, and doing.

One of the things I'm insistent on is always having good paper, in good sizes and with good weight. I have a connection with a printer, and they throw away so much paper. I feel like it’s the biggest sin. So, I call them once a year, and they will set aside drawing paper, painting paper, colored paper, and paper on rolls...I mean every kind of paper under the sun. It’s a lot of work, but my husband and I load up the truck and bring it to our storage facility. We have paper and art supplies all throughout the year. Back in the 90s, we did an activity once based on Jackson Pollock. I brought in a ladder and the kids got up and dripped paint on a huge canvas mural. They were barefoot and just covered in paint. I’m not sure many programs value paint, or realize how much you can teach a child with it. How the paint feels, the tactile, it’s such a sensory thing, and a really great learning activity.

With the preschoolers, I’ll have them paint a picture, and then I collect the dried paintings. I bring them back out a week later, and we color on top of them. I take them back – bring them back out a week later, and the kids will stamp on top. It turns into a multi-layered, month-long progressive project. The parents are amazed at how much the children worked on it, and the kids are so proud. It doesn’t cost much and just takes some planning. Infants and toddlers can be challenging because they tend to grab everything. But it can be done. Maybe we paint with pudding instead, or take a Ziploc bag, put the paint inside with the paper, so they can interact with it, and we don’t have to worry about babies putting it in their mouths.

Most recently, I’m interested in art therapy. I took a really great practitioner course, and it taught me so much about child development and how art can heal. When children have a tough time expressing themselves, it turns into a behavior. I’ve always put their hands in paint or water, and you can see them completely change. It isn’t clinical art therapy, but I love having that knowledge. There’s a difference between saying, “here - you look like you’re having a tough time, paint a picture” and that’s fine, they will have an experience – but if you really sit with a child and say “you must be so proud of what you made – I see you used a lot of blue – do you know how many shades of blue we can make?” I’ll sit with them and go over all the different shades and the look on their faces – it's amazing to them.

For older children, art shows help them foster an idea, and the art can be incredibly self-esteem-building. Their emotions come out, and you can see that they are looking for change and looking for growth, and it comes out on the paper. For the younger kids, they don't necessarily realize they're gaining confidence, but they are. They learn about the world by touching things - if you put a giant blob on your paper with too much paint, the paint is going to drip, - if you take a water bottle and squeeze it on the paint it makes it run down – when you take the painting off the easel and set it to dry, sometimes it dries differently, sometimes the paint cracks if it's too thick. There is a lot to learn through cause and effect.

The push for kindergarten can be stressful for parents, but children need time to develop their own intrinsic voice before they get to school. If they don’t have a chance to let it out, it builds up, and we see problem behaviors in classrooms. Art is a great way to help children navigate those feelings and express what they’re trying to tell us. If you look over and see a child painting up their arms, it might just mean they’re bored or ready for something new. Instead of getting upset, walk over and ask, “Is it wet? Is it cold? Should we wash it off? What are you interested in now?” Children are naturally curious, and that’s not a bad thing. The minute they hear doubt or shame, everything changes—they start to think they did something wrong, and that feeling follows them. Giving them space to explore through art helps them build confidence and learn about themselves.

If you had told me years ago that working in childcare would become my life’s purpose, I wouldn't have believed it. But sometimes you don't choose the job‚ the job chooses you.

I was born and raised in the Dominican Republic and moved to New York City in 2015. When I became a mother, something inside me shifted. I began to understand the deep responsibility of parenthood, the way a child needs love, guidance, and safety from their parents. After giving birth, I applied for several jobs. I actually landed two big offers but turned them down because neither of them worked with my new reality as a mom. That's when I found a job at a home-based daycare. I worked there with my 6-month-old son by my side. There were about 15 other children in the space; the hours were long, and I was making just $200 a week. But from the very first day, something clicked. The kids adored me, and I adored them. I built beautiful relationships with families that felt more like a community than a job. Together, we created a sense of belonging that I'd never experienced before.

It wasn't always easy, though. At times, I felt like the title (assistant provider) didn’t match the love and effort I poured into my work. The profession didn't feel respected, and I began to lose that initial spark. I became exhausted and unsure of what direction my life was heading.

Finding my purpose came from turning my struggles into a mission. I’ll never forget two siblings I once cared for who were eventually returned to their biological parents after being in foster care. Together with their foster family, we had worked so hard to help them heal from trauma, rebuild trust, and simply feel safe again. The children made so much progress and wanted to stay with the foster family, so it was heartbreaking to see that the system didn’t take that into consideration.

That experience made me realize that my work wasn’t finished. I decided to go deeper; I studied human resources, psychology, early childhood education, and later earned my CDA. After several years of learning and growing, I opened my own Group Family Child Care program in the Bronx. It has now evolved into a full community hub focused on mental health, inclusion, and flexible care for working parents – especially those with evening shifts or children with special needs.

I make connection the heart of everything I do. Every day, I talk with parents not only about their child’s progress but also about their lives, their stress, their hopes, and their goals. I founded The Mother Cloud LLC, a certified Women-Owned Small Business (WOSB) and Minority and Women-Owned Business Enterprise (M/WBE). Through this company, we offer family engagement programs, bilingual workshops, and small community events that help families feel seen, valued, and supported. Knowing that I can create opportunities, train new providers, and inspire others to recognize the dignity and leadership within child care work is empowering.

As a single mom and immigrant, I want others (especially women like me) to feel proud of their journey in child care. I hope my story reminds them that even when things don’t go as planned, they can still find a purpose, be influential, and discover something bigger than we ever imagined.

I chose to become a Behavior Interventionist because I’ve always felt a deep sympathy for children with autism. Growing up, I was considered “typical,” and it made me realize how easily people can be misunderstood or overlooked when they don’t fit the expected norms. I speak Mandarin, English, and French, and I started out doing translation and social work. A coworker suggested that I apply for a job in Applied Behavior Analysis. After completing the education and training, I realized this was the right path for me. It’s meaningful to meet children where they are and support their connection to the broader community in ways that respect their own pace.

My work focuses on reducing barriers that can make daily life more difficult. I support children by redirecting behaviors when needed, helping them express their preferences, and building daily living skills. I help them engage with their communities more comfortably by supporting communication and understanding. Social connection is so important for a child’s development. I often go with children to parks, stores, and other shared spaces to support their learning in social environments, to build their confidence, and engage with their peers.

Most of the families I work with are in the Asian community, where autism is still surrounded by a lot of stigma and misunderstanding. For some parents, it feels like a shadow they don’t want to acknowledge. My role is to support families in recognizing their child’s needs and strengths, and in finding a way forward that is informed and compassionate.

One case still stays with me. A child was diagnosed with autism at age two. Around the same time, his father passed away. His mother was absent, and he lived with his grandparents. The only connection he had with his mother was an occasional phone call, but he was nonverbal, so there was no real communication. What he needed most was attention, consistency, and love. Progress can be slow in cases like that - but slow doesn’t mean it’s impossible. When you give a child enough patience, enough structure, and enough care, you do see change. I saw it with him.

Society is also changing so fast. Technology, media, constant stimulation - even people without autism feel overwhelmed. For children who already struggle with communication, it can be even more intense. That’s why structure, patterns, and visual learning matter. Children with autism often have strong preferences, so supporting regulation and flexibility can be challenging. It's important to plan carefully and work through multiple approaches. Some days, I may spend over an hour helping a child regulate before we’re ready for thirty minutes of focused learning.

I’ve worked with one child for over five years. When I first met him, he was completely nonverbal. We had to take a long break because of COVID, and he regressed. It took a long time to get him back to where we started, but now he is beginning to speak in full sentences. The work can be exhausting, but when I see even a small amount of progress, I feel a real sense of achievement. It’s exciting and encouraging.

I continue to study and learn new techniques to better understand psychology. The more tools I have, the better I can support these children. Many cases are tough. But when I see a child connect, communicate, or take one small step forward, I know it’s worth it.

My mom worked for United Way my entire childhood, and I was the little kid putting painted handprints on the volunteer thank you cards. I grew up coloring under tables until I was old enough to help, and I always knew I’d end up in this work because I’d seen the impact a nonprofit could make.

When I became pregnant with my son, I didn’t know what to do about child care. I ended up going to Child Care Resource Network (CCRN) in Buffalo. I was in the lobby with a newborn, exhausted and crying, and the staff immediately said, we’ve got you - whatever you need. That was my introduction to the agency I now work for.

Between the time I had my son and started working for CCRN, I worked in an afterschool program, which was a full-circle moment for me. I wanted to do something that was going to be impactful and fuel my soul. I have great memories of my own afterschool experiences: learning to tie my shoes, trying new foods, and making friends. So many important things happen during those few hours each day. The biggest value afterschool provides, just like early childhood programs, is a safe space.

When I had the opportunity to lead my own program, I discovered that I would need the School Age Care Credential. I was nervous because I felt “done” with school and was scared I would fail, but the material was completely relevant to my work, and I ended up loving the courses. During that year, though, the program shifted away from afterschool, and I felt lost. My advisor asked me what I was most passionate about, and I said safety. That conversation eventually led me to a registrar role, and later, teaching the credential preparatory course myself. CCRN had supported me in some of the hardest moments of my life, and it helped me understand what adulthood and a career could look like.

I hear all the time that kids will be fine on their own after the school day ends, but not always. Parents are still at work, and there are hours left in the day.  Afterschool programs carry kids through that stretch of time. Parents know their child is safe, fed, and learning in an environment that may suit them better than a traditional classroom. If a kid needs to do homework on the floor or in a beanbag chair or with different lighting, staff can do that. Teachers can’t always give 30 kids one-on-one attention, but afterschool can. We serve families over the summer, too.

Afterschool programs also support families. I’ve seen support with housing, food, and clothing offered right at pickup. Kids grow community gardens and run service clubs. I was at a program where children were outside cleaning up their neighborhood because they decided they didn’t want to play in a place full of trash. Schools have lost so many arts and activity funding, but afterschool programs fill those gaps. They offer martial arts, Girl Scouts, robotics, and sports. Local colleges and music schools loan instruments and teach children how to play. Teens benefit from programming too, because they have nowhere to go between 3 and 7 p.m. Most businesses don’t want them hanging around, so afterschool becomes the safe and warm place to be.

Lack of child care is a workforce issue, and it affects every business — not just schools — because everyone employs people who have kids. Someone always knows somebody that relies on child care.

Right now, our biggest stressor is funding. We never quite know when it will appear, disappear, or arrive late. We worry about the loss of funding, which can happen suddenly, and overnight kids will have nothing. It takes about 90 days to get a program open. If funding comes in June, an entire summer goes by with kids left unsupervised or parents leaving work. You can’t safely fit more children in existing programs, so when programs we’re counting on don’t open, families feel it immediately.

I’ve seen what afterschool has done for our community. I made most of my childhood friends there. Kids need afterschool programs to build friendships, learn new skills, and discover what they love.

Our programs need the resources to keep providing that space.