When I first found out I was pregnant, I frankly didn’t put much thought into long-term childcare plans. Living in New York City, my husband and I knew we wouldn’t have the traditional village available to us — my parents, while local and thrilled to get a first grandchild, are older and weren’t particularly eager to volunteer for solo babysitting, while his parents live thousands of miles away.
But we were in a uniquely lucky situation: We both happened to have flexible, largely remote jobs.
For the first few months of my surprisingly generous parental leave, my husband and I, cocooned in newborn bliss (and perhaps slightly delirious from sleep deprivation), didn’t stress about what would happen when I went back to work. I figured we could make it work through a combination of creative time management and strategically scheduled naps — at least until our daughter was eligible for 3-K, free schooling available in New York City for kids the year they turn 3.
My husband became the primary parent
Surprisingly, this plan ended up working, for the most part, and for just shy of a year, we managed a fairly even 50-50 split in parenting duties. As time went on and my own work ramped up and the baby potato turned into a sprinting toddler, it became clear that my husband would need to become the primary parent.
It wasn’t something either of us had considered before having a child, but it made the most sense: He found far greater fulfillment in being a father than he’d ever found in his career, whereas I had always defined myself by my work as a writer and editor. He kept his job but scaled back, working largely in the evenings and weekends so he could be free during the day for stay-at-home parenting.
As our daughter became a toddler, she blossomed under my husband’s full-time care, with constant adventuring and frequent playdates keeping her days busy. We didn’t need outside childcare — but as it turned out, she did.
I’d considered traditional childcare, but couldn’t stomach the cost
New York City has notoriously high childcare costs.
Courtesy of Michael Matassa
In the interim between our delicate balancing act and deciding my husband would drastically scale down his work, I considered a number of different options, from traditional daycares (upward of $2,500 a month in my neighborhood for full-time programs) to nanny-share arrangements with other local families (maybe slightly cheaper, but a pain to coordinate).
We were lucky in that we were able to avoid childcare costs, which would have effectively canceled out one of our salaries, though I still toyed with the idea of enrolling her somewhere part time to get her used to the idea in case our situation changed.
Enter Barnard College’s Center for Toddler Development.
I first heard about the program in a local moms’ book club I’d joined. One of our first reads was “How Toddlers Thrive” by Tovah P. Klein, a prominent child psychologist — and incidentally the then-director of the Toddler Center. Another mom in the book club with a daughter two years older than mine mentioned she was now applying.
I was frankly flabbergasted when she explained the details. It’s part research program, where the toddlers are minded by teachers and selected students from the college’s graduate program and observed for published research purposes from behind a one-way mirror, and part “school,” albeit an extremely part-time one, with each “class” of toddlers meeting only twice a week for two hours each day for the duration of the school year.
I was intrigued by the program’s unique “gentle separation period” and its said mission to help toddlers have a positive first school experience while supporting healthy social and emotional development through hands-on, child-guided play.
At that point, my daughter was only 18 months old (the halfway point to our 3-K end goal), but I’d already started to suspect that separation might be an eventual issue. With two working-from-home parents, she was used to having us around constantly — and had never had a babysitter.
The few times we’d tried to step out to grab a coffee and handed her to a grandparent, she would shriek like she was being abandoned. Over the next several months, she also grew more shy, coinciding with her stranger danger peaking.
We paid $7,500 for our 2-year-old
Convinced our future would be filled with school refusals and drop-off meltdowns, I hardcore pitched the Toddler Center to my husband for the coming school year. We didn’t need it for childcare, but I became convinced we did need it to help give our daughter the gentlest, most gradual introduction to being away from us. He was less convinced, sure she would grow out of it and be OK with separating by 3-K, but agreed in the end.
If the program details were mind-boggling, the price point was eye-watering. Though there isn’t a set, publicly announced tuition rate, the Toddler Center offers sliding-scale tuition and payment plans to make the program accessible to a broader range of the population. According to its website, a third of Toddler Center families pay tuition on a sliding scale (I assume the higher-profile alum parents like Amy Schumer, Sarah Jessica Parker, and Robert De Niro paid full sticker price for their kids to attend).
After submitting a sliding-scale tuition application, which required forking over the previous year’s tax returns to prove we were indeed not flush with cash, we landed on $7,500 as the final figure for our almost 2-year-old to take her first baby steps toward school.
At first, it was torturous
It did not go well.
Courtesy of Michael Matassa
The first few weeks of the program allowed the parents in the classroom, gradually moving us farther from it (a separate, no-toys-allowed room in the back, meant to be unappealing to the kids) to encourage the toddlers to ignore them and play in the main classroom area. That trick didn’t work on our daughter, who simply sat next to the chair of whichever of us had taken her in that day, chattering happily as we tried to gently encourage her to go away.
As I’d dreaded, the initial actual separation — when parents would bring their kids into the classroom and tell them they were leaving — was horrendous. The Toddler Center mandated that only one parent or caregiver drop off their child each morning.
For the first few weeks after separation, we could both sit in the observation room, where we were treated to a front-row show of our daughter sobbing hysterically and trying to reason with the grad students to open the door she was convinced we were right behind. It was excruciating, and plenty of tears were shed on our end as well.
There was virtually no improvement for months, which was far longer than I expected. And I felt an immense amount of guilt for having come up with this idea in the first place: Were we actually traumatizing her instead of helping her? Had I epically miscalculated this? Did I pay $7,500 to torture my toddler and myself?
I was wracked with doubt, and we debated withdrawing her from the program before the first semester had even finished. It was particularly hard on my husband, who, as the primary parent, was typically the one dropping her off and dealing with the meltdowns — and who also really missed her on school days.
Suddenly, though, and for no particular reason at all, it got better. A lot better.
Instead of sobbing by the door for a full hour and a half, she started interacting with the other kids. She found a favorite grad student she’d attach herself to. She played happily on the classroom slide. And eventually, she comforted the other toddlers during their hard separation days, assuring them their mommies or daddies would be back.
The Toddler Center was expensive, but extremely worth it for us
While it was difficult for my husband to be apart from his little buddy for the few hours a week she was at the program, they turned it into an opportunity for new adventures. In the spring semester, he began biking with her to school, stopping to pick up flowers on the way there and back. Another tradition became that he would bring her a blueberry muffin from a local café every day at pickup. These small rituals helped them bond even more.
Courtesy of Michael Matassa
I don’t pretend to have a handle on the intricacies of toddler psychology, and I can’t tell you what the flipped-switch moment was where it finally clicked for my kid that being left at school with her teachers didn’t mean we were gone forever. And yes, for the record, she still cried during drop-off the first few weeks of 3-K.
But I am convinced that completing the Toddler Center program drastically reduced her adjustment period for “real school.” Tossing her into the deep end for six hours a day, five days a week, was simply not the right option for our family.
In the end, I’m glad I listened to my gut, dug into our pockets, and toughed out the tears — and I’d like to think my daughter, somewhere deep down in her toddler brain, is too.
