Crazy Things I Discovered Looking for a Preschool in the U.S.

And more culture shock for my Danish husband

Looking for a (better) preschool for my now-2.5-year-old daughter has been way more stressful than it should have been.

Parents in our city of Santa Monica, CA, can get crazy competitive about their offsprings’ education, aiming for the two local preschools that promise to get you into the right kindergarten, which would lead to the right elementary school and eventually all the way to Harvard.

Before you think we’re those parents, let me assure you that my Danish husband didn’t know what “Ivy League” meant until recently. Though he knows a thing or two about quality education.

When spending a year in Denmark, I was blown away by their approach to early childhood in general and “education” in particular. Across all of Scandinavia, the main purpose of the early years seems to be going outside to play.

In Denmark’s public pre-schools, heavily subsidized by the government, kids spend most if not all days outside rolling in the dirt and hammering nails — the simple things in life, yet largely forgotten in the modern U.S. Danish kids are encouraged to take risks and play independently, and they don’t start formal schooling until the First Grade. Forest Schools also originated in Denmark.

Having returned to the U.S., I found myself pregnant and (two years later) looking for a similar kind of “simple” play and outdoor-based preschool for my daughter. Only to find none. After much research, I realized we in America had early childhood education all wrong.

A year into the process of looking and applying for preschools in California, I can confirm: it’s madness.

I’ve cried, I laughed, I triumphed at last. I learned that I would never have another child in the U.S., but something has to be done to help those who will.

For starters, here are just a few crazy things I encountered while looking for a “simple” preschool for my daughter.

Money, money, money

I’ll start with the obvious — tuition prices.

If you’re a two-adult mixed-gender household in Santa Monica, your average income is $80,000 for a man and $60,000 for a woman (an article in itself). It seems pretty high until you factor in the cost of living. If the average rent of $4200 for a 2 BD apartment is not high enough to leave you broke, then the price of local daycare will do it.

A wonderful play-based school around the corner from us charges $30,000 a year in tuition for a full day.

Another one — $24,000.

Yet another — $2050 per month.

A local Montessori school doesn’t even list tuition which is often the case with local pre-schools.

Even a basic Child Development Center by our local school district will cost a whopping $1700 a month for a full day.

And these prices only go up for infants.

Now you’ve paid your taxes (33%), your average rent, your average pre-school, car loan, bills, groceries, and you have about $16 left for two people to share. That’s your medical care, gas, entertainment, savings, travel, college fund, whatever. Assuming you’re a two-income high-earning household, and one of you manages to pick up your kid by 4–5 PM.

It gets better when your kids reach school age since local public schools are pretty good (tested by our older kids).

Still, how people manage to raise multiple children under such circumstances I have no idea.

Hundreds of people on a waitlist

I was excited to find a nature-based outdoor program at an Environmental Nature Center in a different county, which “only” charged $1300 for a full day of care. I was ecstatic, even though it’d require us to move houses, and placed my daughter on the waitlist immediately, assuming a year was enough to get enrolled.

I reached out 5 months later to wonder if we were getting any closer to enrollment, only to find out that we were number 355 on the waitlist. But hey, they said, we should wait a couple of years and maybe we’ll get lucky. Great.

What the actual hell?

Clearly, the demand for quality outdoor care at reasonable prices is high. Now if only we could do something about it.

Short school days

“One can tell a lot about a neighborhood by its preschools’ schedule,”

my husband laughed when he discovered that it was common for a school day here to end at 12:30 (1:30–2:30 for 3-year-olds). Everything over is considered “aftercare” and billed separately.

In his native Denmark, most pre-schools assume 8 or 9-hour days, even though Danes have some of the shortest working hours in Europe. Scandinavian gender equality means that most Danish women return to work within a year or so of giving birth and enjoy doing so. They’re not held back by unaffordable daycares or short care hours.

“These nice pre-schools here are a hobby for rich moms,” my husband concluded.

And an expensive one at that.

Two schools in our immediate area charge $2050 per month for 5 hours of care a day and $26,500 per year for 4.5 hours. We’re currently enrolled in a much cheaper program with a rate of $1350 for 3.5 hours of care a day. This gives you just enough time to shower and eat between school runs. Great.

And more money (and time), please

I noticed how many already expensive schools required parents to contribute further and were straightforward about that.

Here’s an actual paragraph from an admissions page:

The school depends on parents to offer a commitment of time to festivals, fundraising and school development activities. Every family is also asked to make a financial commitment beyond their suggested tuition by:

• Contributing to our Annual Giving Campaign
• Generating more than $275 in Scrip earnings to support their child’s classroom funds
• Supporting and participating in other fundraising activities

This school doesn’t even provide scholarships for first-year students.

What the actual hell?

Interviews

I can see why older kids would need to be interviewed for certain academic programs. But why does a two-year-old need to show up for a “visit”? Aren’t parents’ financial contribution and the fact that a child needs a place enough?

Even better, I myself had an “interview” with a teacher at one of the programs I applied for. I was nervous, I talked too fast, I forgot things. I’m still not sure what the point of it was and whether I “did well.”

“When do children get to be children in America?” my husband wondered.

I ran out of space to tell you about the wonderful place we did end up finding for our daughter, so stay tuned. Until then, I’d love to hear your thoughts and experiences with early childhood education in the U.S.

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