Valentine’s Day Edition

(Not the Party Planner, Yet Somehow Managing the Party Politics of a Early Childhood Education Program)

Valentine’s Day – A Commercialized Rite of Passage (and My 3rd least Favorite School Party.

Let’s be clear: I did not sign up for this, not on any sign-up sheet stuck to a door. Not in a casual, “Yeah, I’ll help with that” moment of weakness. Nowhere. In fact, it says right on my resume under Skills: Not the Party Planner.

At this point, Valentine’s Day has nothing to do with love, hugs, friendship, or kindness—and everything to do with:

• Who brought the coolest valentines.
• Who provided the best treats.
• Who can out-Martha Stewart the other moms or Pinterest the best crafts and games.
• And the unfortunate kid who got stuck with the generic, non-candy Valentine’s because they have that parent—the one who completely forgot today was Valentine’s Day.

Somehow, this over-commercialized holiday has become a childhood rite of passage, complete with unspoken social hierarchies, Pinterest-worthy crafts that no actual child made, and a sugar explosion so intense it throws the classroom ecosystem off balance for at least 48 hours.

I walk into the building, already regretting my decision. I need to remember to take February 14th off. Parent after parent streams in, a child on one side and bags of valentines, cupcakes, and precisely zero healthy snack contributions on the other.

A few teachers are genuinely excited about the festivities. The rest of us? We’ve already entered survival mode, bracing for impact.

Craft Time: Because Nothing Says “I Love You” Like Teacher-Made Art

As I walk down the hallway, I immediately roll my eyes. Most of the crafts on display are exactly what I expected—perfectly cut-out hearts glued in suspiciously neat arrangements, with handwriting too polished for a four-year-old.

It’s just a classic example of an “art project” that is 100% about the product and 0% about the process.

Whenever I bring up the process vs. product debate with a few teachers, I get the same response: “Well, the parents think it’s so cute.”

Me: “You do realize that most of this artwork you so diligently assembled never even makes it out of the car, right?”

So, I just keep walking. Today is not the day to have that conversation again.

Lunch, the Last Attempt at Order

Lunch is either a last-ditch effort to push real food before the afternoon party chaos begins or a desperate attempt to get something in their stomachs to absorb the aftermath of the morning party chaos so they might actually nap instead of vibrating off their cots.

The Class Party: Where the Strong Survive

As I make my rounds to all the parties, I overhear a parent ask a teacher, “Were they good today?”

I stifle a laugh with a cough and silently wonder how this parent missed the unspoken rule that all children get a free pass on behavior on Valentine’s Day.

Me: (Considers the 17 chaotic events I’ve witnessed in the last 10 minutes.)

I give the teacher a side-eye glance just as she responds with a straight and completely sincere face: “Oh, yeah. Totally.”

The Sugar Crash (a.k.a. The Reckoning)

Teachers are experts at playing the odds when it comes to party days. The real challenge? Can we bring the sugar-high children back down to a calm, functional state before total chaos ensues? Or—even better—can we time the party just right so that parents swoop in before the inevitable crash?

Unfortunately, today, we lost that bet.

The room is now filled with exhausted, emotionally drained children, teetering on the edge of meltdown. One kid, face-down on the carpet, weakly mumbles, “I don’t feel good.”

A teacher stares blankly into the middle distance. I do the same. We understand each other now.

Lesson Learned: The Circle of (Party) Life

No matter how much I resist, the party always wins. Every year, I tell myself I won’t get sucked into the chaos, and every year, I find myself knee-deep in rogue glitter and sugar-fueled anarchy.

I’ve learned that:

• Children don’t care about aesthetics—they just want candy and to feel special.
• Pinterest parents will always exist, and they will always bring themed, individually wrapped party favors that make the rest of us look bad.
• No one actually eats the “healthy alternative” snack, but we keep pretending it’s an option.
• Survival > perfection. If no one cries (too much) and the building is still standing, it was a success.

And perhaps most importantly, I’ve learned that no matter how exhausting these celebrations are, the kids will remember them forever. Not the flawless crafts or the curated treat bags, but the joy, the chaos, the sugar-fueled friendships, and the ridiculous moments that make childhood fun.

So, begrudgingly, I accept my fate. In the end, what’s Valentine’s Day without a little suffering?

Final Thought

Love, apparently, comes in many forms—store-bought valentines, sugar-filled joy, and a classroom filled with “handmade” crafts mostly made by adults.

Happy Valentine’s Day from your exhausted, emotionally resilient, and absolutely not the party planner child care director who still has to survive Easter and Christmas.