The role of daycare workers: Amina, the art of always being there
Every morning, while many Quebecers leave for work, they take on a complex task, which nevertheless often goes unnoticed: they accompany their children during the day. “They,” because they are mostly women. Many have an immigration background. In this series, we present to you a portrait of educators and daycares in schools in Quebec.
At the end of a day in June in a Montreal café, we meet Amina*. The sky is indecisive: it rains, it stops raining, and this ballet lasts all day. She arrives, very punctual, with a nice umbrella. But we'll need a few minutes before we start trading. Children from the school across the street enter the café with their parents. They keep coming to say hello to Amina, even after spending all day with her. They love it.
─ Hello, Amina.
─ Amina, let me introduce you to my dad.
- Here you go, mom! Amina is here!
It must be said that she is everywhere in the public school where she has worked for the past four years as a daycare educator. She has a deep voice, her words are sweet. It moves with grace and lightness. Its very small size contrasts with the presence it exudes: as soon as it enters the café, you can feel it. She has been doing this job for fourteen years, and she takes it very seriously. In her country of origin, Morocco, she taught French for fifteen years, after which she retired and moved to Quebec. After having the equivalences of her studies recognized, she obtained a college diploma (DEC), which allows her to occupy this position.
Moving to Montreal, Amina made the decision to stay home with her two children. At the time, she was married and her husband had a good job. “It was a choice. I didn't want to leave [my daughters] to go to work.” After a few years, she is ready to return to the workforce and then occupies a position that she likes but that is not related to children. As time goes by, Amina realizes that she is missing this contact. A lot.
So she became an educator, a position she had no intention of leaving. “As long as I am healthy, I will work,” she says, with her open and warm smile. It may sound easy to say, but it takes a whole day working with second graders to fully understand what that means.
At 68 today, Amina works three blocks of time at school. She comes back at 7 am and leaves at 6 pm. During the educational days, she also accompanies children on subway or bus trips to the four corners of the city.
Taking care of a group of 18 students for all these hours is quite tiring, even for a younger person. But Amina never seems tired. Instead, she is able to come back from an outing in the park on a rainy day, as she did today, and go to a café to answer any questions we have.
Accompany with the spirit
When she talks about her job, Amina is full of enthusiasm. “Everything we do has a big impact on children: our behavior, our words, our voice. You can contribute very positively to his confidence, his self-esteem, his ability to help each other. But you can also have a negative impact. Words leave a lasting impression on children.”
Today, with the shortage of workers in this profession — as everywhere in the public education sector in Quebec —, she regrets the relaxation of hiring criteria.
“I would like them to require a university degree,” she says. “I am sorry that I am not giving it the importance that it deserves. This must change if we want to offer quality service [to the schools of the Montreal School Services Center].”
She shows us a text she wrote a few years ago for a presentation to professionals in training: “Anyone can look after a child. The only criteria required is to be a person aged 12 and over, capable of looking after a child until the parent arrives. On the other hand, our work as educators is based above all on the meaningful relationships we create with children. It is through this relationship that we transmit the values of respect, generosity, generosity, sharing, mutual aid, empathy and open-mindedness. To be an educator is to transmit skills, it is also to transmit know-how and interpersonal skills”. She is very committed to these values, it shows. She speaks with joy about the time spent with the children, those little moments that can go unnoticed in a long day at school, but that are also part of the children's lives.
At school, students come to see her: “Look at my new skirt, Amina.” “Come and hug me, Amina.” She knows everyone's first names.
This is the case of a little girl who has adjustment problems. At the beginning of the year, the girl frequently quarreled with her friends and girlfriends. She had difficulty making friends. At recess, she often cried in the corner. “Nobody could understand what was happening to her,” says Nassima, another teacher at the school. “She was lucky to have Amina this year,” she said.
Because Amina took him under her wing. “I am working hard to see a change in this little girl. For me, problem children are the ones who need us to be there for them the most. That's where I can make a difference.”
A few days before the end of the school year, the little one plays in the schoolyard with another girl. They whisper secrets to each other, laugh while looking at a piece of cardboard with drawings that one brought for the other. She no longer cries in her corner, she even has a nice smile. “It makes a big difference compared to the beginning of the year! ”, highlights Nassima.
“Amina is an exemplary person,” says Nassima. “What I like the most about her is how she manages situations and discipline: she is supportive and very firm, but at the same time she is always nice.” When she has to be listened to, Amina explains to the children the rules, the consequences, “and I end up with a compliment,” she says.
Woman, mother and activist
Raised in a middle class family in Morocco, Amina is a woman who knows what she wants. After a year of studying law in her country, she flew to France, where she met her future husband. He was then very active in politics.
The young couple returned to Morocco and participated in the founding of a leftist party opposing the Moroccan regime at the time. On this subject, she prefers to remain discreet, “out of respect for the other activists” who went to prison for their political activities. Her husband, for example.
Even if she feels she was “lucky”, it was not easy to be considered a rebel at that time, she explains to us, and even more so when you are a woman. But that's Amina's nature: she's not the type to sit idly by and say nothing.
At the time, she was also part of an association that fought for women's rights in her country. When the situation calmed down, her husband was released, and after years of living a more peaceful life, the couple decided to leave. “We thought it was time to go look for something else.” They already have one child.
“It was not an escape, it was a choice,” she clarifies. “We chose Quebec because we wanted a French-speaking area to settle in. It was hard enough to leave everything behind to add, in addition, a language that we don't speak like English.” Fortunately for Amina and her small family, the immigration experience was not traumatic, but it is also very rooted in its roots.
She doesn't forget where she comes from, and does everything she can to make sure her children don't forget her either. Moreover, she took care to transmit Arabic to her eldest daughter. The youngest, on the other hand, mastered the language less well... until this episode that marked the life of the whole family: the day before Amina left for a vacation in Morocco, her youngest confided to her: “Mom, I want to go with you. I want to go and see.”
“It seemed impossible! Find the ticket from one day to the next, prepare for the trip...”. However, the next day, her 18-year-old daughter left with her mother, “by a miracle,” recalls Amina. Another major unexpected event: the young girl loves her country of origin so much that she decides to stay there.
Amina then called her boss in Quebec to ask for unpaid leave. That's how she and her daughter spent an entire year rediscovering their language and culture. “Before, my daughter felt a bit left out of our family conversations. After this year she was very proud. And she kept that.”
For Amina, it is important to preserve origins and stories. “In my community, I see a lot of young people who don't speak the language. They have no connection to their culture, they don't know where they come from.”
Amina continues to nurture dreams for the children around her and for her community. Whether these dreams will come true is unknown. But after everything we know about her, there is hope. Sometimes hope brings a nice sun.
*Amina is a fictional name. The protagonist of this story wanted to remain anonymous to respect the safety of others involved in her story.