Child care during nontraditional hours — including early mornings, evenings, nights and weekends — is a growing need for American families. Flexible care with variable hours from week to week is also in demand.

In many homes across the country, work happens outside of 9 a.m. to 5 p.m. The best available data, drawn from the past decade, suggest that in some states live with a parent who works nonstandard hours, and that accommodate those schedules — though these figures rely on data collected before the pandemic. These data also indicate that work outside traditional hours is common in families that have lower incomes. 

Expanding access to equitable child care options requires careful attention to the diverse child care needs of working families. For a parent who starts a shift as a nursing assistant at 7 a.m., works overnight as a hotel receptionist or drives for a ride share service as a second job on the weekend, , as many licensed child care programs follow a more conventional schedule. Challenges also exist for parents who work jobs with rotating shifts, who not only require care outside of normal business hours, but also need the hours to be flexible. 

To ensure that working families can thrive, the child care sector needs more public investment in child care settings that offer care during nontraditional hours and increased support for the workforce needed to deliver it. When designing a universal child care system, policymakers must consider the growing population of parents working outside traditional business hours and should incorporate the following three principles.

Include home-based child care providers in policy design. Right now, most child care during nontraditional hours is , rather than by licensed child care providers. In other words, by people families trust who care for children in ways that resemble parental care. This type of arrangement — known as family, friend and neighbor (FFN) care — is in the U.S. child care system. This trend points to both a preference and a gap: Families rely on familiar, home-based care during these hours, yet the supply of licensed child care that is open during these hours simply isn’t there. Building a universal child care system that is responsive to families’ needs will require recruiting and investing in licensed family child care providers and FFN caregivers who operate outside of child care licensing systems. Building policies that include the full range of home-based providers will require creative solutions, such as community-based peer support groups and access to resources and materials related to caring for children. 

Create fair working conditions and compensation for providers who offer care during nontraditional hours. Increasing child care access for working families must prioritize investment in the workforce caring for children during . These providers face some of the in an already strained sector: low pay, unpredictable schedules, on-call demands for families that need last minute child care or need to change hours without notice, and the strain of balancing their own family responsibilities with offering child care. Many FFN caregivers provide child care for their families . Expanding child care options that meet the needs of families working nontraditional hours requires intentional strategies that ensure a livable wage for paid child care workers and compensation for FFN caregivers — many of whom indicate for their work. These approaches must also reflect that the cost of care varies by time of day. 

Right-size standards and regulations to reflect the realities of providers caring for babies and children during nonstandard hours. Finally, quality and regulatory frameworks must evolve to recognize that care at 10 p.m. does not look like care at 10 a.m. Children’s development during nontraditional hours is shaped by like shared meals, bedtime stories and quiet, unstructured time. Systems that measure quality solely through daytime standards risk missing — such as healthy sleep practices and creating calm and comfortable environments — while placing unnecessary burdens on providers. Universal child care systems should offer tailored professional development that reflects the realities of care at night and on weekends — focused less on building lesson plans and more on developing routines, relationships and supporting children through transitions like bedtime or early wake-ups.

As states and cities build universal child care programs, ensuring access to child care beyond standard work hours must be a central goal. By embracing a mixed-delivery system that values all types of care, investing in compensation and professional development, and developing appropriate standards, early adopters of universal child care initiatives can provide an example of how to create policies that meet the needs of all working families.

The national nonprofit plans to the occasion with an “intentional year of celebration, reflection and doing what we’ve always done — center the voices of educators,” said CEO Michelle Kang. 

A century is a long time for any organization to exist. It is a long time — period. Thus, NAEYC’s centennial presents an opportunity for longtime early childhood educators and leaders to recognize the progress the field has made, and to consider why, 100 years later, some systemic issues remain unchanged. 

Founded in 1926 and first known as the National Association for Nursery Education, NAEYC has a long history of promoting high-quality education for children from birth to age 8, advocating for improved working conditions in the field, and helping families and the general public understand the value of early childhood education. Today, it is the largest early childhood education association in the country, with affiliates in nearly every state, reaching hundreds of thousands of educators through its research, advocacy and membership network.

Over the past century, NAEYC has been involved with a number of the profession’s major . The organization participated in the creation and expansion of , a federal program that provides high-quality early care and education to children from low-income families; collaborated on the development of the (CDA), a nationally recognized credential for the field’s educators; and built the first national to demonstrate quality in early learning programs.

But at the same time, the field has been defined by stagnation in critical areas, such as low compensation, insufficient public funding and a lack of professional recognition. 

“It’s a lot of ‘two steps forward, one step back,’” said Marcy Whitebook, who co-founded the Center for the Study of Child Care Employment (CSCCE) in 1999. “It’s not that we haven’t made progress. It’s that these problems we’ve had for a long time endure.”

Whitebook, a septuagenarian, recalled meeting with other child care workers in the 1970s and 1980s to campaign for better working conditions. At that time, these teachers felt their contributions to society were underpaid and undervalued. 

“People who did the work had no rights, raises and respect,” Whitebook said, referencing the of a campaign from that era. “That’s still true.”

Few would dispute that. Early childhood educators today make an average of to care for and teach the nation’s youngest children, according to the CSCCE 2024 Workforce Index — despite a growing body of research and increased awareness among the public that the early years are foundational for learning and development, and deeply connected to a person’s eventual success. 

In a of the early childhood workforce, released by NAEYC in February, educators reported high levels of burnout and increasingly unstable personal financial circumstances. One teacher in California said, “I’m constantly worried about making rent and affording groceries, which distracts me during the day.” 

Many teachers are also dealing with the consequences of working in understaffed programs. Teacher turnover remains high and recruitment challenging, largely because many educators leave the field for better-paying jobs elsewhere. 

What would most help them stay in the field, the survey respondents said, is better pay and more employee benefits. Instead, many providers are experiencing stagnant federal funding and a perceived reduction in public support. 

Carol Brunson Day, who became a NAEYC member in 1969 and later served as the organization’s president, believes that wages and compensation remain the biggest issue facing the field. 

“That problem was there when I entered, and it’s still there,” she said. “We’re working on it, but we don’t seem to be getting the kind of traction we should be.”

Day added: “Until we solve that problem, we are still going to have high turnover, which is not just not good for teachers, it’s not good for young children.”

Day also spent 20 years as president of the Council for Professional Recognition, a nonprofit that NAEYC helped form in the 1980s to oversee the administration of the CDA credential. 

That credential, she said, has not only helped “produce competent caregivers,” but has also created a pathway for a racially, culturally and linguistically diverse workforce — primarily women — to advance their careers in early childhood education. As a result of getting many community colleges to recognize the CDA and award credits toward an associate degree, some early educators have been able to use their CDA as a springboard to earn four-year degrees and beyond. “It’s not perfect yet,” Day said, “but it’s there.”

Kang called the credential “one of the best first steps into the field of early learning,” noting that at her own son’s high school, students can pursue coursework to earn their CDA before graduation. 

“It has represented the path for so many people who would not otherwise have been able to be part of the field,” Kang said.

Even still, it’s not a solution to the lack of professionalization that early childhood educators face. There is still, among much of the public, a perception that adults who care for babies and toddlers are not teaching, but “babysitting.”

“We have not gotten to a place where we fully understand, as a community and a country, that these are professionals doing this work,” Kang acknowledged. “We push back against the narrative that anybody who loves children can do this work.”

That misconception likely perpetuates the low compensation in the field and the limited federal investment it receives. If the public and policymakers recognized the importance of the early years, they would, theoretically, want to pay the professionals who work with young children a living wage while also investing public dollars to boost quality and accessibility. 

“The entire system depends, basically, on very underpaid people doing the work,” said Whitebook. “The whole thing has been operating on cutting corners with the people who do it.”

Indeed, the current structure of the system is unsustainable, said Kang, resulting in a “” of early care and education. And yet she finds herself thinking back to at least one point in the field’s history when that was perhaps not the case.

During the COVID-19 pandemic, in early care and education allowed the field not only to survive the disaster, but to come out of it, in some respects, stronger than before. That was also a time when many families and government leaders referred to early childhood education as “essential,” though Kang said she hasn’t heard that sentiment expressed for several years now. 

“There is very little about COVID that I would say we want to go back to,” Kang said, “but I do want to go back to that moment where policymakers on all sides of the political spectrum, families, community leaders recognized the importance of early childhood education and the investment needed to have it work well.”

It proved that it is possible for public dollars to buoy early childhood education and to raise the stature of the professionals who work in the field, she noted. 

“I don’t want to see us have another global calamity to get there,” Kang said. But when she reflects on NAEYC’s 100 years and the narrative around high-quality early learning, she said one thing is clear: “We need to support the professionals who are doing this work … so children can get everything they need to become the citizens we want them to be.”

You have to go there.

goes there.

Founded in New York City by Laurie Brotman, Bezos family professor of early childhood development, in NYU Grossman’s School of Medicine’s Department of Population Health at NYU Grossman School of Medicine, ParentCorps offers professional development for educators, a social-emotional learning curriculum for pre-K students and a parenting program. Prioritizing racial equity, the team honors families’ culture and their lived experience and expertise, and supports teachers in establishing authentic relationships.

“You can’t just tell people to change,” explained Kai-ama Hamer, who has been with the organization since 2018, serving as director since last May. “You have to know their values, what they’re doing, why they do this work, what moves them? And then once you unearth that, then they feel open.”

It starts the moment a parent or educator comes in the door.

“We want them to understand that even if our values are different,” Hamer said. “Even if we don’t speak the same language, ‘I see you and I care for you.’ And that is the basis for everything else.”

Beyond the Five Boroughs

Randomized control trials of the ParentCorps model have demonstrated improvements in home and school environments, as well as the health and development of children and parents.

In light of the evidence, it’s no wonder that the model is expanding. Detroit was the first pilot beyond New York City. Since 2015, when then-CEO Ann Kalass met Brotman as fellows, ParentCorps and Starfish have teamed up to build relationships with the early childhood workforce, social workers, facilitators and teachers, and to embed ParentCorps programming for children and families in Starfish sites. “We want Starfish to own the model in ways that work in their setting,” Hamer said.

In its 19 early care and education centers, Starfish provides integrated, high-quality care and support services that build on the strengths and assets of families in and around Detroit. Lindsay LaBoda, a social worker and a clinical therapist with Starfish, points to widespread trauma among the families they serve. “Trauma-informed care,” she said, “means fully supporting our children by identifying the signs of stress and responding with respect, care, and kindness. We don’t ask, ‘What’s wrong with this child?’ but ‘What’s strong about this child?’”

Kecia Rorie, operations director at Starfish, acknowledges that when people think of Detroit, they picture “blight, unemployment and an educational system that has failed a lot of children.” At the same time, she points to resiliency and a strong sense of community. “When parents walk through our doors,” she says, “you can tell right away, they’re very protective of their children, and we are honored that they allow us to come in their homes to take care of their most priceless, precious possessions, to just help guide them along the way.”

Ironically, for a city built on the automobile industry, Family Engagement Specialist Mary Woods-Miles notes that viable transportation is one of the biggest challenges for many Detroit families. Starfish provides $500 or more in Family Stability Funds for car repairs, insurance, down payments and other expenses, which helps parents get to and from work, and to drop off and pick up their children.

A New Twist on an Old Adage

ParentCorps reboots the adage, “build a better mousetrap, and the world will beat a path to your door” by building better training, using old-fashioned mousetraps. The trainers have asked me not to reveal the specifics of how the devices are used, but I can say that the activity also involves balloons. This is a distinctly low-tech approach.

Rorie recalls her first exposure to ParentCorps: “A colleague and I flew out to New York City just to observe. But by the time we got to lunchtime on day one, we looked at each other and said, ‘This is amazing.’ And by day two, we were like, ‘We have to take this back.’” At the time, Rorie said, “We were having trouble engaging with families. Our network of six Head Start grantees had just come together, but it was still new, and people weren’t used to it.”

One of the people she took it back to was Woods-Miles.

“The mousetrap game did it for me, too,” Woods-Miles said. “I knew that ParentCorps would be effective, but I didn’t anticipate it being as effective as it is.”

The experience made Woods-Miles reflect on her time as a single parent of a young child and all the multitasking involved. About 30 years ago, she tells me, the Head Start class misplaced her son. “I was going to community college, and it was finals time. When I went to get him, he wasn’t there. So I literally kicked in every locked door, broke some doors and went in the men’s bathroom until I felt like I couldn’t breathe. And I went outside, and there was my slippery kid saying, ‘Ma, what took you so long?’ He had gotten out with another family.”

Three Little Words

The ParentCorps approach boils down to three words: safe, nurturing and predictable. Woods-Miles acknowledges that not all the parents at Starfish go for it right away. One mom told her it wasn’t going to work for her children, but Woods-Miles persuaded her to try it. The mom came back the next week and admitted that letting the kids know what was going to happen in the evening helped her to be more organized, and as a result she had a few hours to unwind.

LaBoda appreciates the fact that ParentCorps doesn’t tell parents how to parent. “You’re the expert on your child,” she said. “Your know your child better than anyone else.” The point of the programming for pre-K caregivers is to get them to realize they already have everything they need to be a parent.

Recently, a grandmother in LaBoda’s parenting group announced, “Y’all can’t tell me nothing. Ain’t nothing new under the sun and y’all can’t tell me a thing.” Just a few hours later, she reported, “I actually learned a lot. I have to admit that I was wrong.”

For Hamer, the parents, grandparents, Head Start professionals and other educators contribute immense value to our communities that often goes unrecognized. “Once you understand the value of early education,” she said. “You see the value of those people who stay, who choose to stay because they really care.”

The CDA requires significant coursework and teaching. Vargas had to gain 480 hours of experience in the classroom, besides taking 120 hours of coursework either in person or online. She admits that it was a lot of work, but says “It’s so worth it. Earning my CDA taught me new and different ways to work effectively in the classroom, so I continued pushing myself each day.” Like many CDA holders who use the certification as a steppingstone to further career development, Vargas plans to pursue a degree in early childhood education.

Calvin E. Moore, Jr., CEO of the Council, says, “CDA holders know the demands of a real-world classroom and increasingly have what it takes to meet them. I’m gratified that the number of CDA earners between 18 and 34 has been increasing.”

The CDA Credential dates back to the start of Head Start — part of President Lyndon B. Johnson’s War on Poverty — when the supply of educators fell far short of the demand in the communities the program was meant to serve. In 1971, at the annual meeting of the told the National Association for the Education of Young Children, Edward R. Zigler, director of the U.S. Office of Child Development, declared:

“We must develop a middle-level profession to care for our country’s children. The need for the Child Development Associate, an individual who has not had as much scholastic training as those with college degrees, but nevertheless has the competencies to care independently for children, is central to a major issue in child care. Are we going to provide the children of this nation with developmental child care or are we going to provide them merely with babysitting?”

Before the Council took the helm in 1985, Bank Street College in New York City administered the CDA. “Providing child care is a profession,” said Ellen Galinsky, who taught at Bank Street for 25 years and went on to found . “Child care,” she added, “is a profession that requires a solid background in such fundamentals of child development as knowing what curriculum is appropriate to a particular age group, the basics of health and safety, and how to form effective partnerships with parents.”

Nearly 5,500 members of the CDA community have lent their voices and views to a survey on ways to bring more equity, ease and access to the CDA process. Nearly 90% of CDA holders report feeling more prepared for the classroom because they’ve gained a foundation in early learning and best practices for the profession. “The CDA was a wonderful way to get into my current position,” one teacher said, “and get into the job market I wanted to be in.”

Another respondent observed, “CDA holders appear to be better at interacting with children and communicating with parents. They also stay on the job longer and seem more committed to their work.”

According to Moore, remote learning is on the rise. He also sees increased recognition of the value of diversity, equity and inclusion in the workplace, with an emphasis on advancing communities that are underserved. “That is the Council’s central mission,” he says. “We have always been committed to ensuring equity for all children and for the teachers who provide them with the quality learning they need.”

Ten U.S. territories and states that have embedded the CDA in their child care licensure and career ladder for professionals in the early learning field: Puerto Rico, Oklahoma, Louisiana, Arkansas, Alaska, Wyoming, Ohio, Michigan, Florida and Washington, D.C. Florida requires every child care center to have at least one staff member with a CDA. In the District, a 2016 law mandates that all assistant teachers must have a CDA.

Scholarships and support are making it easier for teachers to earn the CDA. For example, the Council and the Maryland State Department of Education are now partnering to provide thousands of the state’s early childhood teachers with financial support to help them earn or renew their CDA. These financial awards cover application and other fees, as well as books required for the program, and the state considers this a wise investment in the future.

The Maryland-Council partnership is also promoting the high school CDA, incentivizing teens to imagine a productive future at a time when they’re searching for a path from high school to careers. The CDA helps them take their first steps into the early learning field because it “provides you with knowledge if you have no knowledge of child care,” as one novice teacher said in the Council’s recent survey.

College may not be the next step for everyone with a high school diploma. Exorbitant tuition and other factors are encouraging more high school graduates to explore nondegree pathways. for those without a college education, but child care is a worthy and essential field, especially if the passion for building brains in young children is there.

Asked what advice she would give to a high school student contemplating the rigorous CDA process, Vargas said. “If you keep going forward, you will see the benefit of the journey.”

“High schoolers who earn a CDA,” Moore said, “give us high hopes for the future of our field.”

Currently, Child Care NEXT funds six state coalitions . I had the honor of attending the inaugural summit and meeting tireless, fearless advocates from five of the six state coalitions selected for the first round. A bit later, I caught up with the sixth advocate via Zoom.

Inclusive Louisiana

Libbie Sonnier and Rochelle Wilcox are co-chairs of Louisiana, a coalition that centers the voices of early childhood providers as well as parents. Their partnership — Sonnier leads the , Wilcox runs and cofounded — exemplifies the balance of voices that powers change in their state.

“We’re here to make sure early learning looks more inclusive,” said Wilcox. “That means every stakeholder having a seat at the table. They’re not just tokens.”

“We’ve come a long way,” reflected Sonnier, pointing to how they’ve called attention to the importance of perinatal and maternal health and well-being.

Wilcox emphasized factors beyond home and school. “Addressing the whole child means addressing the ecosystem,” she said. “Housing, the environment, everything.”

Although Louisiana has a long history of fiscal conservatism, Wilcox and Sonnier pointed to at the state level as well as a voter-approved  as evidence that elected officials can and will make needed investments if held to account. “When you make the business case for early care and education, it becomes a nonpartisan issue,” said Sonnier.

Sonnier and Wilcox cited a custom among the Masai tribe of Africa. Instead of greeting each other with, “How are you?” they say, “Kassaerian Engeri?” which means, “And how are the children?” The expected response: All the children are well.

Putting the Mind in ‘A New York State of Mind’

When I caught up with Janna Rodriguez of the , she had just come from a Capitol Hill meeting with the staff of Senator Chuck Schumer. Although she was disappointed to learn that Congress wouldn’t be increasing funds for early education through budget reconciliation, she remained focused on the positive. “It didn’t get done right now,” she said, “but it’s a topic of conversation. That will make it easier the next time around.”

Born in the Dominican Republic, Rodriguez grew up in a single-parent household and was the first in her family to attend college. Today she is an entrepreneur. As owner of Innovative Daycare Corp in Freeport, New York, she strives to serve families with similar backgrounds in a “space that inspires children.”

For Rodriguez, it’s a fundamentally American principle: If we want children from diverse backgrounds to grow up and become entrepreneurs and business leaders, we can’t wait until kindergarten to start their education. “Zero to five is when it all starts,” she asserted. Furthermore, child care holds the key to other pivotal issues that affect the whole country—immigration, housing and workforce—to name just a few.

This year’s federal budget isn’t Rodriguez’s main focus. She’s in this for the long haul. “We’re going to be so proud in 20 years,” she promised. “That’s why I wake up with a smile on my face.”

Being Undeniable in Virginia

“Our mission is to ensure that the people who can least afford child care have one choice: the best,” said J. Glenn Hopkins, who has led Northern Virginia’s since 1991, (He is unrelated to the nonprofit’s namesake, physician .) While the region that Hopkins House serves is, for the most part, wealthy, progressive and educated, there are a number of families lower on the economic ladder, and the organization’s three preschool academies educate young children as young as six weeks old from these families. Collaborating with colleges and research institutions keeps its educators on the leading edge of the field.

Hopkins is a member of the (VPP) Provider Advisory. Launched in December 2020, VPP centers the voices of providers and parents as they work to secure quality, affordable child care for all Virginia families by 2030. Due in part to VPP’s leadership, the latest Virginia budget makes critical investments towards improving access, choice and quality, and sustaining the early care and education workforce.

Hopkins signed up to attend Child Care NEXT to stay abreast of the future of child care in the new political and economic environment. Advocacy figures heavily into the picture. “There’s a big gap between what working parents can afford and what it costs to deliver quality,” he said. “That’s where government support comes in.” Hopkins is looking for new approaches to educating the public and pressuring Congress.

Reflecting on his own trajectory, Hopkins recalled his father, who never went to college, pushing him to apply to Ivy League institutions. “He’d say to me, ‘You have to have options,’ and later in life I’ve come to understand better what he meant.” (Hopkins attended Columbia University.) “Our preschool academies seek to nurture the best in our young scholars: be so good no one can deny you.”

Bipartisan Support in Oregon

Voices like Marchel Marcos’s are often left out of conversations that take place at conferences like Child Care NEXT, but because the Alliance sprang for child care, Marchel was able to bring her six-year-old, Kenji. A single mother and survivor of domestic violence, Marcos now serves as political director for (APANO). She noted that summer, when school is closed, is the hardest time to find someone to watch the children. “That fact that Kenji and I are here,” she said, “shows that the Alliance affirms and validates my experience.”

Courtney Helstein of and Dana Hepper of were also part of , the state’s delegation at Child Care NEXT. Before we spoke, they had met with staffs of Senators Ron Wyden and Jeff Merkley. According to Helstein, bipartisan support is vital to achieving anything in their state. Representative Suzanne Bonamici . The imminent retirement of state representatives Karin Power (D) and Jack Zika (R) poses new challenges.

. Hepper also described the state’s newly formed Department of Early Learning and Care and as major accomplishments. Changes to the subsidy program—including lower copays, expanded eligibility, inclusion of undocumented kids, and payments made according to enrollment rather than attendance () — make the state’s program more equitable.

In Colorado, Advocacy Runs in the Family

Like Oregon, Colorado recently launched a state-level . Lorena Garcia and Melissa Mares are seizing this opportunity to push for sweeping change, co-leading Colorado’s coalition, which is called Growing Our Future: Cultivating Caregiving Communities. Garcia is executive director of , which her father originally founded. (Her mother was the founding executive director of another group, — Engaging Latino Parents to Advance Student Outcomes.) Like her parents, Garcia advocates for funding and policies to make education work for all families in her state.

According to Garcia, the pandemic has contributed to an awakening that school readiness efforts must reach as early as possible into children’s lives. “My dad always said, ‘Kindergarten is too late’,” she told me. There’s also been an overdue recognition of the role that family, friend and neighbor (FFN) care plays in the lives of children. “On one hand, status quo stakeholders say they want to close the achievement gap,” Garcia said. “On the other, they’re saying FFN — where 50% of the children are learning and more than 50% of providers work — is unsafe.”

Child Care NEXT’s approach to change resonates for Garcia because it emphasizes how families directly affected by poverty and racism can and do win policy victories.

Mares, director of Early Childhood Initiatives at the , previously taught kindergarten at a Spanish immersion school in Eugene, Ore. “I came to see my job,” she told me, “not as training my students to be successful, compliant adults but as fiercely defending childhood. Let them be kids.”

For a long time, Mares was going against the grain, but researchers and experts are increasingly recognizing that without self-regulation and other social emotional skills, academic learning just doesn’t happen.

Mares’ experience teaching young children also left her with a bad taste in her mouth about how society perceived her work. “People would always talk about how cute kids are, as if that—rather than a living wage—should be the most rewarding aspect of the job. As if it made sense that women would be in a job like that. The disrespect of female labor is deeply entrenched.”

“And you know what?” she told me. “The work of caregiving is critically important. And the kids weren’t always cute.”

A Winning Streak in New Mexico

Shortly after Child Care NEXT, I Zoomed with Matthew Henderson, executive director, , part of the New Mexico coalition. Last year, Governor Michelle Lujan Grisham announced a plan to make New Mexico the first state in the country to offer free child care to nearly all families. (.) Henderson calls it a bold move from the governor, and says it follows a related victory — formation of the state’s . Next up: enshrining a dedicated funding source for early childhood programs. A broad network of allies has begun canvassing for the amendment, which will be put to voters in November.

Yet much remains to be done in the Land of Enchantment, says Henderson. Enrollment in Lujan Grisham’s plan is falling short, and the state has lost nearly a thousand early educators since the start of the pandemic. “It’s no wonder that there isn’t enough child care to meet the demand when there’s no job that pays less,” he says.

“Providers are telling us, ‘We went to college for this. We have debt. We’re tired of juggling bills and having the power turned off.’ Some are leaving the sector for public schools. Some are leaving it for fast food jobs.”

He adds, “We need to put an end to this racist system that depends on paying BIPOC women poverty wages.”

The energy coming out of Child Care NEXT encourages Henderson, as do demonstrations like the this past May.  “You’ll see early educators and parents returning to the streets soon,” he says, “ until policy makers are committed to change.”