Today is the last day my daughter's favorite teacher at the USC/Gateway Child Research and Development Center, Katie, will work. She is taking her warm smile and her MA in early childhood education to a job with better benefits, hours, vacations, and pay. And we professors think we don't get enough for what we give. Early childhood educators get even less. I hate a system that values teaching children so little as to not offer the pre-school teachers who teach the young children the same retirement plan, pay, or health benefits package that we the professors get for teaching the older children. I hate a system that ranks preschool teachers lower than professors. I hate a system that couldn't hold on to Katie.

I can't understand why this news hit me as hard as it did. When she first told me earlier this week, I cried like I had been told a relative was dying. I left the building, sat in my car, and cried some more. All day, my stomach ached with a new sense of emptiness.

Now, here is the last day, and I need to go buy her a present. I want to find her something that will thank her for making it ok for me to leave Sarah and go to work, for helping me through this very rough transition, for giving me faith that Sarah would be just fine. But I can think of nothing that would honor her enough. Flowers? Candy? Books? A little statue that says, "great teacher?" They all seem too trite.

To compound my sense of emotional turmoil, I don't even know what teacher will be in the classroom with Sarah on Monday. I know Angie and Andrea will be there in the morning, teachers Sarah's knows and likes, but she doesn't run to them like she runs to Katie. Katie makes Sarah smile even on her grumpiest mornings, knows how to play with Sarah's hair to put her to sleep, and remembers that Sarah's favorite color is pink. She holds Sarah in her arms to play with her, laugh with her, and to comfort her when she cries. I've watched other teachers try to talk children through their tears, as if words can ever be enough. Katie knows that the human touch is the most important comfort, and doesn't leave a child to cry alone. Katie isn't afraid to touch, cuddle, and love because, I think, she realizes there is enough love inside her to go around.

Why can't we reward USC/Gateway preschool teachers like Katie with decent wages and benefits? What is our problem?

Unfortunately, I don't think it will be only Katie that we lose. Andrea, Angie, and other excellent teachers will be next if we don't do better for those who are doing so much for our children. We need to honor our preschool teachers with the dignity and money they deserve.