The Day My Son Began to Fear Preschool
“No, Mommy, no!” Johnny screamed, flinging himself onto the floor and pounding his fists. This heartbreaking scene had repeated itself for three consecutive mornings: tears, screams, and utter despair. Wearing my bag and feeling my heart shatter, I was at a complete loss.
Until recently, my little boy loved going to preschool. Since he was eighteen months old, he eagerly played with other kids, participated enthusiastically in activities, and sang the songs he later joyfully repeated at home. Each time I left him there, he would run inside without a backward glance. Yet, about a week ago, everything changed.
He resisted entering, begged me not to leave, clinging tightly to my legs as though I was taking him somewhere dreadful.
Initially, I thought it was just a passing phase. Even the pediatrician shrugged when I described the situation:
“It’s common at that age. The so-called ‘terrible twos’ or ‘threes’ often lead to more tantrums, increased sensitivity. Don’t worry too much.”
However, deep down, I sensed that this wasn’t merely fussiness. Johnny had never been a difficult child—energetic, yes, but never throwing such fits. His frightened eyes and genuine anguish could not be dismissed as typical developmental stages.
One morning, losing patience, I shouted:
“Enough, Johnny! You need to stop!”
He looked up at me with fearful eyes, and instantly, I realized I had made a mistake. Kneeling down, I hugged him closely.
“I’m sorry, darling. Mommy didn’t mean to get angry. Tell me, what is it that you don’t like about preschool anymore?”
He buried his face against my shoulder and whispered shakily:
“I don’t want to… I don’t like it anymore…”
“Why, sweetheart? Did the other children upset you?” I asked gently.
He shook his head silently, then barely audible, added:
“Mom… no lunch? Will you come back before lunch?”
Those words hit me like lightning. Why lunch specifically?
A Growing Concern
That day, I promised Johnny I would return before noon to pick him up. He nodded, eyes shining with hope. I left him at preschool, but his pleading gaze haunted me all morning, knotting my stomach.
At work, I couldn’t focus. Eventually, I asked my supervisor for the afternoon off due to a pressing family matter. Luckily, she understood without pressing for details.
I resolved to go to the preschool at lunchtime to uncover the truth myself. The vague explanations about children’s behavior were no longer enough—I needed to witness the reality.
The Startling Revelation
Quietly entering the building, I headed toward the dining hall. Though the doors were shut, large glass windows allowed parents to observe inside.
My heart raced as I spotted Johnny sitting at a table with other kids. Beside him was a woman unfamiliar to me—not one of the usual teachers, possibly an assistant.
She took Johnny’s spoon, filled it with mashed potatoes, and pressed it against his tightly closed lips.
“Eat!” she ordered sharply.
Johnny shook his head, clenching his mouth shut as silent tears streamed down his cheeks.
“Open your mouth and eat immediately!” she insisted loudly.
My blood boiled. My son looked terrified. This was no tantrum; it was real suffering.
The woman repeated sternly:
“You will finish everything on your plate, understood? You don’t get up until it’s all gone!”
Glancing at his plate, I saw a small portion of minced meat, mashed potatoes, and some vegetables—nothing excessive. I knew Johnny was never a big eater. I never forced him; when he said “enough,” I always respected his fullness.
At that moment, Johnny tried to protest by opening his mouth, but the woman shoved the spoon inside forcibly. He began coughing and choking. I couldn’t contain myself any longer.
I flung the door open and yelled:
“Step away from my son immediately!”
Confrontation and Demand for Respect
The woman turned in surprise.
“Parents are not allowed in here!” she snapped.
“Well, maybe they should be!” I retorted loudly. “Can’t you see how overwhelmed my son is? He’s a healthy child but not a hearty eater. Forcing him to clean his plate is cruel!”
My voice echoed through the room. The children stopped eating and stared wide-eyed. Some teachers hurried over.
I didn’t pause:
“Do you realize what happens when a child is forced to eat against their will? It causes trauma. It distorts their relationship with food. Such outdated methods contribute to eating disorders!”
The woman had turned pale, but I pressed on:
“Forcing a spoon into a crying child’s mouth is humiliating and inhumane. These children are not puppets—they are little human beings who deserve respect!”
Finally, I approached Johnny, gently wiping his tears and whispered:
“It’s okay, sweetheart. Mommy is here. Remember, I promised you a special treat this afternoon, didn’t I?”
Aftermath and Healing
I took my son home, and in the following days, I had an extensive discussion with the preschool director. The woman I had witnessed was sternly reprimanded and reassigned.
Johnny gradually regained his joy. There were no more morning tears or protests. Yet, for weeks, I deliberately visited the preschool during lunchtime, observing discreetly to ensure nothing like that ever happened again.
With time, Johnny rebuilt his confidence and once again looked forward to attending preschool happily.
The Valuable Lesson Learned
This experience taught me a crucial truth: raising a child means, above all, respecting their boundaries. When adults believe they have the right to impose their will entirely, they inadvertently teach children that their needs are irrelevant.
- Respecting children is not a privilege, but a fundamental right they must grow up knowing.
- A child’s protest is often a clear signal, a plea for help that deserves attentive listening.
- Forcing compliance, especially regarding basic needs like eating, can cause lasting emotional scars.
My son’s refusal to eat was more than just defiance; it was a heartfelt cry that I finally had the courage to heed.
In closing, this difficult journey revealed the importance of nurturing children with empathy and understanding. True education lies not in coercion, but in honoring their individuality and feelings. Only by embracing this can we help them flourish into confident, respected individuals.