In my role as executive director for Randolph County’s lead agency for early childhood, the social unrest we’re experiencing in our country has weighed heavy on my heart. Before expressing priorities for Randolph Partnership for Children as we move forward in our work with new emphasis, I’m compelled to share a story.
My father’s favorite place on this earth was his barn. Many years ago, Dad laid a new slab of concrete in the barn for one of his tractors; and, as the cement was drying, my parents’ beloved yellow lab, named Daisy, stepped one paw into the concrete before anyone could gently guide her away. The contractor pouring the slab assured my dad he would smooth out the imperfection easily enough, but Dad objected, telling the fellow that the paw print should remain. Dad said, “This dog has imprinted our hearts, so why shouldn’t she leave her personal stamp on the barn floor?”
Fast forward all these years. Every time I go into the old barn, I’m pulled directly to that paw print like moth to flame. It’s reassuring to see the lasting remembrance of the dog our entire family loved like crazy, and I’m always comforted when I think about my dad’s foresight and wisdom.
I sometimes ponder what the imprint of my life will be. What is my personal stamp on my community, on this organization that I lead, and on its people, especially during this time of great—and, heartbreakingly, much warranted—social unrest? For starters, I hope my imprint will be one of compassion and kindness. But it can’t stop there because it is my responsibility, and, indeed, my privilege and honor, to lead our organization in not only delivering services but also in confronting the enduring structural inequities and injustices within the larger systems in which we live and work.
I don’t enjoy confrontation. But, a sentiment that has resonated with me of late is this: When hate is loud, love must not be silent.
Children deserve to grow up in a world free from bias, discrimination, and hatred. The field of early childhood education is rooted, largely, in goodness and equality. Yet, none of us can deny that stark inequities exist for kids and families of color. If we somehow didn’t see these things before the COVID-19 pandemic, we surely see them now as the global health crisis has only exacerbated long-standing inequities in health care, employment, and education. If we somehow couldn’t admit before George Floyd’s death that cruel and senseless injustices occur every day, surely, now we have opened our eyes.
And when we know better, we must DO better.
Our Partnership team is putting together a 12-month work plan, coming out of COVID-19, to infuse Resilience, Inclusion, Cultural Competency, and Equity into our overarching strategic objectives, and we sincerely invite you to be part of the conversations we are having around this work. Our acronym for this focus is RICE, which is just perfect because rice is sticky. And to do better for the children, families, and communities we serve, we need for equity and justice to stick and take hold. Just like cement in my dad’s old barn.
Our challenge to parents of young children, early care and education providers, elected officials, and the greater community is to identify ways in which you can imprint Resilience, Inclusion, Cultural Competency, and Equity in the hearts of infants, toddlers, and preschoolers and all those who work to nurture and support them. Together, we can find ways to celebrate and nurture every child and family’s individuality, thereby ensuring all children enter kindergarten healthy and ready to succeed in school and life. Let’s do better together.
Lisa Hayworth is the executive director of Randolph Partnership for Children.
