Case Studies

Pink Slip

by P.J. McWilliam

"I don't get paid enough to have to put up with this kind of stuff," Stacy said to Tamara while helping 2-year-old Samantha with her puzzle. "I was on the phone half the night trying to smooth things over," she continued, pointing to the hole where the apple-shaped puzzle piece was supposed to go. The little girl put the wooden apple shape on top of the hole and twisted it around until it slipped into place. "Good girl!" praised Stacy, "Now put it away. It's almost time for juice and crackers." She gave Samantha's bottom a gentle pat as she toddled off towards the toy shelf with the puzzle.

"I thought you talked to her yesterday afternoon when she picked Michael up," said Tamara, pouring the children's juice into paper cups and sitting them one at a time on the small table where the 16 toddlers were congregating.

"Well, apparently that wasn't enough," said Stacy, removing little Carly's hands from the basket of oversized Lego blocks on a nearby shelf and directing her to a chair at the snack table. "She had to call me at home and start it all over again," she continued, tousling Carly's dark curls, handing her a graham cracker, and pushing her juice cup within reach. "She was hysterical about it. You'd have thought Michael had been mauled by a pit bull. I can understand her being a little upset about her kid being bitten but, good grief, it didn't even break the skin!"

Tamara rolled her eyes in agreement. "What did she say?"

"Evidently she took him straight to the doctor's office after she left here, cause she said the doctor told her about how dangerous human bites were—that they can cause serious infections and that sometimes kids can have to be put in the hospital to get intravenous antibiotics. Well, at that point she starts sobbing into the phone….I mean, really!"

"You're kidding?" said Tamara, handing out the last cup of juice. "She was actually crying about it?"

"I kid you not," said Stacy. "Then she goes and gets all huffy about it and—while she's still crying, mind you—she tells me that if anything like that should happen to her poor, sweet, little Michael, she's going to sue Carly's parents for medical expenses."

"I thought she and Carly's mom were friends," said Tamara. "Don't they both belong to some highfalutin country club or something?"

"Yeah. I thought they were friends, too. It makes you wonder if she's said anything to Carly's mom. My bet is she's being two-faced about it."

"It wouldn't surprise me. What did she expect you to do about it?"

"I suppose she wanted some sort of apology, but she sure didn't get it from me. I mean, I told her I was sorry that it happened and all, but I can't be right on top of Carly every minute of the day. Then she goes on to say how Michael depends on me to keep him safe and how he's going to be permanently traumatized 'cause I wasn't there to protect him. She even told me she was thinkin' she'd have to put him in another child care so's he could feel safe, but that it didn't seem right that he should be the one who had to leave. She said we should kick Carly out instead—that she wasn't ready for a group situation and that her mom didn't really need to work anyhow and should keep Carly at home for another year or so until she was ready."

"What a nerve!" exclaimed Tamara. "I can't believe she actually asked you to kick Carly out. How would she feel if it was Michael who was doing the biting?"

"I'm sure she thinks that her sweet, little Michael couldn't do anything wrong," said Stacy "But wait, I haven't told you about the rest of my evening yet. After I hung up with Michael's mother, it wasn't 20 minutes later when Andrew's mother called. She said she was concerned that—"

The classroom door opened, and in came Kendall and her mother, Claire. As usual, Kendall had tears in her eyes and was clinging to her mother's leg. Claire put Kendall's diaper bag in her cubby and then began trying to cajole the child into taking off her sweater.

"I'll take care of her this time," Tamara told Stacy in a hushed voice and then walked across the room towards Kendall. "Good morning, Kendall!" she greeted. "Did you get out of bed late this morning? Were you a sleepyhead? Ready to play with your buddies?" Tamara stooped down to admire the new book that Kendall was carrying and, while doing so, slipped the child's sweater off without incident.

While Tamara dealt with Kendall and her mother, Stacy began clearing the snack table and directing the children off to play in the various activity centers around the room. Stacy didn't believe in imposing too much structure on the two-year-olds in her classroom. With the exception of 2 or 3 planned activities each day, she preferred to let the children choose for themselves what they wanted to play with and for how long. Within a few minutes, all the children had found something to keep them busy and she, herself, joined a small group at the table where they had gotten out markers, crayons, and paper. This was where Carly had chosen to play, and Stacy thought it would be best to stay close by her today. The last thing she needed was a repeat of yesterday.

As she monitored the choosing and sharing of markers and admired the children's primitive drawings, Stacy glanced over to where Tamara was still trying to entice Kendall to join the other children. If Claire would just say good-bye and leave, thought Stacy, it would be a whole lot easier for everyone—including Kendall. Every morning it was the same thing; Claire hung around for a half-hour or more waiting until Kendall decided to get involved in an activity so she wouldn't cry when she left. Then Stacy remembered: Claire was in the classroom yesterday when Carly bit Michael. She must have been the one who told Andrew's mother about the incident. After all, the two women worked together at the hospital and occasionally picked up one another's children from child care. Now it made sense how Andrew's mother had known about the biting and why she had called last night to express her concerns about Carly. She wanted some assurance that her Andrew would be safe and she, too, thought the center should consider dismissing Carly until she stopped biting. This was beginning to feel like a conspiracy against Carly.

Stacy looked over at the curly-headed culprit who was, for the moment, contentedly scribbling with a blue marker. Carly wasn't a monster. She was an adorable, 2-year-old, little girl who happened to bite. What was it about biting that pushed people's buttons so? If Carly had hit Michael, or knocked him down, or even whacked him on the head with a toy, it wouldn't have caused nearly as much commotion as her biting had. Then again, this wasn't the first time that Carly had bitten another child in the classroom. She was a repeat offender.

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It was difficult to figure out why Carly was biting, and even harder to decide what to do about it. Her biting had started about 2 months ago, without any obvious precipitating event. At first, they had tried giving her cold teething rings and other chew toys and, whenever she bit, they told her "No biting." If the biting occurred in the midst of a dispute over a toy, she was further instructed to "Use your words." Finally, they tried not to make too much of a spectacle out of treating the injured party, as they had heard that this might encourage further biting. Instead, they took the victim into another room to wash the wound and put ice on it. For a while, these strategies had seemed to work, as Carly had stopped biting for a period of about 2 weeks. But then it started again and has occurred in spurts, on and off again, ever since.

It's not as though Carly is an otherwise aggressive child. In fact, she's very affectionate with both the adults and the other children in the classroom. She loves to give hugs and kisses and is the first one to crawl up into an adult's lap when it's time to read a storybook. Sure, she can throw a respectable temper tantrum once in a while when she doesn't get what she wants, but so can the other kids in the classroom. That's just part of what being a two-year-old is all about. She also has as large a vocabulary as nearly every other child in the class, even though, at 26 months, Carly is one of the youngest two-year-olds in the class. So it's hard to blame the biting on her not being able to communicate. In some ways, Carly actually seems smarter than some of the othe children. She's particularly clever about putting things together like puzzles and different types of building toys. All in all, Carly is very good at entertaining herself, always finding something to do to keep herself busy and contented.

What makes Carly's biting particularly difficult to deal with is that it's unpredictable—and sudden. She'll be happily playing one minute and, before you know it, she has chomped down on someone's arm or shoulder. No screaming, crying, slapping, or pulling precede it. Just….CHOMP! Although it's not always easy to tell, her biting is usually in response to another child's taking something away from her or at least appearing as though that's what they're about to do. Even then, she doesn't always resort to biting. It has probably never happened more than 2 or 3 times in a week and usually far less often than that.

For Stacy, the worst part about Carly's biting was having to tell the parents of whichever child she had bitten that day. They always got so emotional about it and, as the number of incidents had increased, so too had their reactions. It was also difficult telling Carly's parents. They were such a pleasant couple. He was a building designer and she taught in the English department at the university. Carly was their only child and, you could tell, she was the love of their lives. They said that, although Carly was a bit strong-willed, she was fairly easy to manage and she never bit at home or in places they went where there were other children around. Carly's mother, Dana, was usually the one who picked her up from child care at the end of the day. Stacy could tell how much it hurt Dana every time she told her that Carly had bitten another child. Yesterday, Dana had even had tears in her eyes. "I'm so sorry, Stacy," she had said. "I thought maybe she was over it when she hadn't bitten for almost 2 weeks."

"I had hoped so, too," replied Stacy.

"I don't know what else I can do," said Dana. "I don't think it would do much good for me to punish her at home….I don't think she'd understand."

"No, I don't think that would help either," said Stacy.

"Do you think you need to punish her more severely here when she bites?"

"I really don't know, Dana. I wish I had an answer. It just happens so fast. One minute she's perfectly fine and the next minute she's taken a bite out of someone. She's not malicious about it. She doesn't even necessarily seem all that upset at the other child when she does it. I've been trying to keep a closer watch on her and catch her before it happens, but I just missed it today. I'm sorry."

"No, it's not your fault," said Dana. "I didn't mean to sound as though I was blaming you. It's just that I feel so helpless about what to do….Do you think I should call Michael's mother to apologize?"

"That's probably not necessary. I talked with her about it this afternoon."

"How bad was the bite? Was she very upset about it?" asked Dana, with a worried expression on her face.

"No, not really….I'm sure she'll get over it. There were just some teeth marks and a little bruising. It didn't even break the skin.

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Tamara had finally persuaded Kendall to join her and a few of the other children in reading a storybook. Kendall's mother, Claire, looked almost disappointed at her daughter's lack of response when she finally said good-bye, waved, and walked out the door. Stacy glanced around the room to insure that everyone was occupied and then returned her attention to Samantha whom she was now helping with her drawing

"CARLY! NO!!"

Upon hearing Tamara's shout, Stacy quickly looked around the table in search of Carly. When she located her, Carly was staring blankly at Tamara, obviously still a little stunned by the shouting of her name. Tamara dropped the book she had been reading to the children and rushed towards the table where Carly was. Stacy rose from her seat, nearly knocking over Samantha as she stood up.

"No biting, Carly!" Tamara said, as she approached the still-bewildered child. "We don't bite. You need to use your words. Remember?"

The two women reached Carly at the same time. "She was fixin' to bite James," explained Tamara. "I looked over and saw James taking the marker right out of her hands. She grabbed his arm and had her head down all ready to bite him—mouth wide open….didn't even yell first. I had to shout 'cause I knew I'd never make it over in time to stop her any otherwise."

Stacy looked into Carly's upturned face. "Carly, no biting," said Stacy. "You need to tell James, "No! My marker….mine!" Then Stacy turned to James who stood, a little dazed himself, beside Carly's chair. He was holding a blue marker—obviously the object of contention. "And you, young man," reprimanded Stacy. "What have I told you about taking things away from others? No grabbing!" Stacy led James over to where she had been sitting and plunked him down in the chair beside hers. "You need to sit down here for a while," she told him in a firm voice. "We don't grab!" James's bottom barely touched the chair before he started crying loudly.

"If I hadn't of yelled, she'd of had him for sure," said Tamara.

"That's all we would have needed after yesterday," said Stacy. "It's a good thing you caught it. At least it wasn't Michael this time."

"Isn't that the truth!" agreed Tamara. "I don't know how we're supposed to keep her from doin' it, though. I just happened to be lookin' over at the time."

As the two women talked, Carly, who had been watching James cry from the far end of the table, slowly wandered over to where he was sitting. She stood timidly behind Stacy's chair, mesmerized by James's carrying on.

A few minutes later, Tamara returned to her reading group on the other side of the room, Stacy resumed helping Samantha with her drawing, and James's crying wound down to a whimper. Carly clambered up onto Stacy's lap, laid her head against Stacy's shoulder, put her thumb in her mouth, and twirled a dark curl with the index finger of her other hand. Stacy absently patted Carly's pudgy thigh and the two-year-old's now-heavy eyelids began to droop.

Pink Slip Discussion Questions