Crazy Kid Experience Leads to Career Change
By Katy Chapin

Personal Essay

Even when I was five years old, I knew I wanted to grow up to be an elementary- school teacher. There was never any doubt. I loved the idea of being around kids all day, and as I grew, that idea only got stronger. I saw qualities in myself that would be great for a teacher: I was patient, organized and driven. I surrounded myself with kids as much as possible until I could get a real job working at a gym's kids' club.

For two years I worked with kids ranging from four months to six years. Yes, every now and then there was the angel child who made the workday that much easier … but then there were the others. Those were the kids who tried to escape when no one was looking or those who just liked to punch their friends.

Once, while I finished cleaning up the room and got the paperwork in order, I waited with one little girl for her mom to pick her up. I thought nothing of the girl standing on top of the slide until a stream of liquid flowed down. She was peeing all over her clothes, down the slide and onto the toys. I ran over to try and get her into the bathroom, but it was too late. I now had the enjoyable job of cleaning up not only a wet little girl, but all the toys again, too.

If working in the kids' club was not enough adventure, last summer I was a nanny for two families. Luke was a six-month-old cutie, but he could also cry louder than any other kid I have ever heard. While I normally loved watching Luke, the only thing about one day that I loved was leaving. Luke cried for two straight hours as I frantically tried to think of something to calm him. I tried changing, feeding and rocking him. I desperately ran around the house looking for something to soothe his screams. Nothing worked. Out of ideas, I counted down the minutes until his mom would be home. I tried to find something that would take my own mind off the terrible noise as I rocked him. I couldn't focus on television, and the music could not get loud enough. When his mom finally arrived and I told her everything that I'd tried, she remembered that she had taken his blanket with her and he needed that before he could go to sleep. After I gave him his blanket, he immediately stopped crying.

Logan, a bright five-year-old who spent his summer mornings inside reading and doing math, also enjoyed driving me crazy. When I took Logan and his 18-month-old brother, Tucker, to the park, he played a game with me (more fun for him than for me), where he would jump on his bike and take off. As he flew away from me, I grabbed Tucker and scrambled to keep up with him.

The chase was over, and the boys were caught. I put a television show on for Logan while I put Tucker down for a nap. Once Tucker had dozed off, I set my attention to Logan. When I arrived downstairs, Logan was no longer sitting on the couch. I assumed he was just around the room somewhere. But after scanning the downstairs, I was still alone. A slight fear went through me as I called out his name. I checked all around the house, the garage, the backyard; and with every passing second, the fear continued to grow. I darted to the front door to check outside when all of a sudden I heard, "Katy, I'm just right here," through the baby monitor. I was suddenly flooded with relief as well as anger. "I just want to play alone," he said. After a few minutes of begging him to come out of hiding, I finally gave in. "Okay, Logan; if you come out I will give you a cookie." At the end of this whole ordeal, Logan came out from under his brother's crib, laughing, and enjoyed a cookie. I left the situation swearing off kids forever and still slightly shaky. Even once my nerves had calmed and I was able to take a breath, I decided I did not want to be a teacher.