financial pressure

Closure of Clayton Early Learning center in far northeast Denver exposes pain points in early childhood care

Preschoolers play at Clayton Early Learning in 2015.

When the news broke last week that Clayton Early Learning planned to shutter its child care center in Denver’s Green Valley Ranch neighborhood, dozens of parents voiced anger and surprise as they scrambled to line up new child care arrangements.

Behind the scenes, local and national early childhood advocates also took note.

Suddenly, one of the most well-respected names in early childhood education was downsizing. After just four years, Clayton was leaving an underserved city neighborhood, ending service for middle class tuition-paying families and retreating from its aspiration to provide quality child care to a mixed-income population.

“That is not a decision that we wanted to have to come to,” said Clayton’s President and CEO Charlotte Brantley. “We don’t believe it’s the right way to go to segregate kids based on their race, income or anything else.”

The move, however, illustrates just how financially tenuous the child care business can be — even for the biggest players in the game.

“It is concerning for Clayton, being a really well-known, high-functioning provider, to not be able to make it work,” said Emily Bustos, executive director of Denver’s Early Childhood Council.

Clayton, whose flagship school in northeast Denver is part of the national Educare network of child care centers serving at-risk children, doesn’t look like a place with money worries. Stately buildings dot its 20-acre campus, which long ago housed a boys orphanage and school. The organization also owns the 155-acre Park Hill Golf Club, which brings in about $650,000 a year after expenses.

Still, Clayton leaders and industry experts say top-notch child care is extremely expensive — costing tens of thousands of dollars a year per child. And help from government coffers is lagging.

“It’s an example of how underfunded high-quality programs in early childhood are,” said Cheryl Caldwell, director of early childhood education for Denver Public Schools.

Said Brantley: “The industry runs on an absolute shoestring budget.”

While Clayton is closing its far northeast Denver location, many of the approximately 100 children served there will be allowed to transfer to Clayton’s flagship campus on Martin Luther King Boulevard because they qualify for federally funded Head Start or Early Head Start. By combining Head Start funds with Denver Preschool Program funds and state money available to low-income families, the school can cover the cost of those slots more easily.

Up to 43 children, half of them infants or toddlers, will lose their spots at Clayton after Aug.18. They include 25 tuition-paying children at the main campus, three tuition-paying children at the far northeast site and possibly up to 15 low-income children at both sites who currently get state child care subsidies. Some of 15 children may be eligible for Head Start, which would allow them to stay at Clayton.

The closure will hit families with infants and toddlers particularly hard because there’s a chronic shortage of quality care for children that age in Denver.

While displaced preschoolers will probably be able to find other arrangements, “The infants and toddlers … they have basically nowhere to go,” Brantley said.

Some tuition-paying parents expressed their frustration at Clayton officials for not having being more proactive in addressing the financial challenges.

“You are the caretaker for the families because we don’t work with the budget,” Nate Paul, who has a 17-month-old in care at the main campus, and is expecting a baby who is already on the Clayton waitlist, told school officials at a recent meeting. “We don’t know what the cost per head is. We don’t have our hand on the gears and levers. You do. Your job is to make Clayton sustainable.”

Ryan Walsh, a father of two children served at Clayton’s main campus, said, “We’re not just a bunch of noise-making, smear campaign kind of people. We actually advocate for early childhood education, and this situation doesn’t benefit the community as a whole when we’re talking about early childhood and education funding advocacy in general.”

Brantley said about 30 staff members at the far northeast location will be able to transfer to jobs at the main campus, though some may take on somewhat different roles.

After operating its flagship campus for decades, Clayton Early Learning opened its second location in a building called Z Place in the Green Valley Ranch neighborhood in early 2013.

The additional space allowed both sites to begin accepting tuition-paying families. They had access to the same raft of benefits that Clayton’s Head Start families and those eligible for state child care subsidies did— small class sizes, extensive special services and lots of parent support.

But tuition — currently about $1,000 a month for full-day preschool and about $1,200 a month for full-day infant/toddler care — never covered the true cost of all that was provided, Brantley said.

Clayton covers $200,000 to $300,000 each year to close the gap between what tuition covers and what the program actually costs, Brantley said.

School officials launched the new location knowing that, but they hoped that more public funding would be coming to the early childhood field. At the time, a campaign was underway for a statewide ballot initiative that would raise millions for education, including preschool and full-day kindergarten. Voters soundly rejected the measure in November 2013.

There were other setbacks. In 2014, Colorado lost its bid for a federal grant that would have paid for new state preschool slots. Clayton would have been a partner in the effort.

Brantley said the state legislature’s perennial reluctance to increase education funding, combined with uncertainties about what will happen to federal early childhood funding under the Trump administration’s budget, also factored into the discussion to close the far northeast location.

In the midst of the deliberations, Clayton leaders learned that two separate grants that help fund other parts of the organization’s work — weekly “play and learn” groups for kids and caregivers, and coaching for other child care providers — would not be renewed.

“It’s this multitude of things that crashed together all at once,” said Brantley. “This was an incredibly difficult and disappointing decision to have to come to.”

Although Clayton owns the Park Hill Golf Club land and is in the midst of deciding whether and how to redevelop it, Brantley said it wouldn’t solve the problem of the far northeast site. For one thing, it will remain a golf course at least through the end of 2018, meaning no additional revenue is expected any time soon. In addition, any revenue from it would also need to support other aspects of Clayton’s large operation, which includes research, training and coaching.

Brantley said the fate of the seven classrooms at Z Place became clear in the spring as school leaders were developing the budget for the fiscal year that began July 1. The board voted to close the far northeast site in June.

Some of Clayton’s tuition-paying parents argued that they would have been willing to pay more if only school leaders had asked. But Clayton officials say the gap was too large.

Mike Burke, vice president of the Buffett Early Childhood Fund, a national Educare partner, said that he understands the parents’ instinct, but that it probably wasn’t a realistic request.

“An organization of Clayton’s caliber would have made it work if they could,” he said.

Educare programs have very robust staffing models “where you’re paying for degreed professionals, you’re paying for one, two, three teachers in the classrooms, family support workers, nurses, mental health consultants, speech and language consultants,” Burke said.

“When you start piecing it all together, you can see these cost-per-child averages raising, raising, raising.”

Burke said only a few of the country’s 21 Educare schools, including those in Miami, Maine and suburban Chicago, have classrooms that include children from tuition-paying families. But in most cases, it’s small-scale integration — only about 10 children.

Research on mixed-income preschool classrooms shows that such diversity has a positive influence on language development and social and emotional skills of low-income children. But Burke said early childhood financing structures aren’t set up to encourage socioeconomic integration because they come with strict eligibility requirements, often based on family income.

Locally, Mile High Early Learning, which like Clayton focuses on serving low-income families through Head Start and Early Head Start, draws around 7 percent of its 500 children from tuition-paying families.

But Pamela Harris, the organization’s executive director, knows how hard the balancing act is. Leaders there recently increased monthly tuition from $1,400 to $1,700 after a year of discussions.

That said, there’s still an invisible subsidy at work, Harris said — the discount that comes from paying child care workers a relatively low wage. Some in the field make so little they qualify for government assistance.

Overall, Harris believes there’s been progress on the early childhood front — gradual growth in Colorado’s state-funded preschool program, a new focus on early education in the federal Every Student Succeeds Act, and local efforts to connect the birth to five age span to the K-12 education system.

Against that backdrop though, Clayton’s plan to close its far northeast site “exposes the pain points that are still in early childhood,” she said.

Nature's classroom

No walls: Forest preschools let kids run free, but can they change to reach diverse families?

PHOTO: Ann Schimke
A girl plays during a Worldmind Nature Immersion School class at Matthews/Winters Park in Jefferson County.

A 2½-year-old boy named Ben was ankle-deep in a Jefferson County creek when suddenly he lost his footing and plopped onto his bottom in the cold shallow water. The fall didn’t faze him. Neither did his dripping shorts. He got up and kept playing.

About a dozen children frolicked in or near the creek that day — making pretend tea in small metal buckets, building dams with sticks and mud, or inspecting bugs that flitted nearby.

It was a typical day at Worldmind Nature Immersion School, one of a growing number of programs where toddlers, preschoolers, and kindergarteners spend all their time outside — no matter the weather.

“When children look like they’re playing in nature, huge amounts of learning is taking place,” said Erin Kenny, founder of the American Forest Kindergarten Association and the co-founder of a pioneering outdoor preschool program in Washington state.

Established first in Scandinavia, such “forest schools” occupy a steadily expanding niche in the American early-childhood landscape. But even with the movement’s popularity, advocates wonder if it can reach beyond the homogenous slice of families — mostly middle-class and white — it now serves.

Advocates like Kenny lament the academic push found in many traditional preschools and say that young children thrive outdoors — developing independence, resilience, and other valuable social-emotional skills.

Parents say their kids like the expansive space, non-stop play, and dearth of rules in outdoor classes. And as long as they’re dressed for the conditions, they take rain, snow, or frigid temperatures in stride.

PHOTO: Ann Schimke
Megan Patterson, the founder of Worldmind Nature Immersion School, pretends her preschool students are penguin chicks.

“I think it’s great to come in bad weather,” said Denver parent Tracy Larson, who has two children in the Worldmind class. “It makes us go outside when we’re at home in bad weather too … You’re not afraid of it.”

Forest schools nationwide face significant regulatory and logistical barriers to expanding their footprint — and serving students of color and those from low-income families.

“This movement is not going to move forward or it’s going to be stigmatized if we don’t rapidly move the needle from white middle-class to all-inclusive,” said Kenny.

Perhaps the most immediate problem is that states have no rules for outdoor-based programs that serve young children and thus, no way to grant them child care licenses. Besides signaling that programs meet basic health and safety rules, a license opens the door to state subsidies that help low-income families pay for child care.

In Colorado, the inability to get licensed means that forest schools can only have up to four young children in a class or, as is the case at Worldmind, must require parents to stay for each session. But licensing rules here could soon change. The same is true in Washington state, where there are dozens of outdoor preschool programs.

Government officials in both states are working with outdoor preschool providers as part of pilot programs that could lead to creating a child care license for outdoor preschools. The idea is to ensure children’s safety without stamping out the creek-wading, tree-climbing sensibilities that make the programs what they are.

Kenny said there are now around 50 forest preschools in the U.S. and another 200 “nature schools,” which put a major emphasis on outdoor learning but have buildings, too. Colorado and Washington are the only ones she knows of that are actively exploring special licensing classifications for outdoor preschools, but hopes their pilot programs will build momentum nationally.

“I used to feel I was riding the crest of a wave,” she said. “Now I feel the wave has crashed and it’s moving in ripples everywhere.

Testing the model

In Colorado, two providers — Worldmind and a Denver-based program called The Nursery School — are participating in the state pilot program. It starts this month for the Nursery School and in August for Worldmind. Both providers will be allowed to serve up to 10 children ages 3 to 6 during half-day sessions without parents present. The schools must adhere to a staff-student ratio of 1 to 5 — stricter than what is required in a traditional preschool.

They’ll also have to abide by other rules, including keeping tree-climbing children within arm’s reach and seeking indoor shelter in extreme weather.

In addition, both programs will track heaps of data, ranging from hourly weather changes to the circumstances behind any wildlife encounters or potty accidents. State licensing officials will also visit each program regularly. The pilot will run through February — to capture all kinds of Colorado weather — with a licensing decision possible in the summer of 2019.

Matt Hebard, a former preschool teacher and early childhood school district administrator, launched The Nursery School with Brett Dabb last fall at Denver’s Bluff Lake Nature Center. In recent weeks, the handful of children enrolled there have spotted newly hatched goslings and mule deer, and made “snowmen” with fluff from cottonwood trees.

The two men first conceived of the school in 2013 during their time in an early childhood leadership program and soon after discovered the long, bureaucracy-laden road to state recognition. There were waiver applications, denials, a hearing before the state attorney general, and even a look at whether state legislation would further the cause of outdoor preschools in Colorado.

“It’s been slow going,” but worthwhile, Hebard said. “It’s going to allow other practitioners to open outdoor preschools … It’s going to give parents another option.”

A child plays in the limbs of a tree at Matthews/Winters Park in Jefferson County.

Megan Patterson, a former elementary school teacher in Alaska and Colorado, launched Worldmind in 2015 — complying with state rules by offering “child and caregiver” classes at local parks and botanical gardens in Boulder County and metro Denver.

“I studied urban ecology in Boston and after that I realized … how important it is to connect kids to places around where they live,” she said. “I finally found the type of education I believe in 100 percent.”

State officials say they have been approached by other outdoor preschool providers interested in the pilot, but don’t plan to expand it beyond the two programs, and the roughly 40 children they’ll serve during the pilot period.

“We feel the model needs to be even more rigorous in the state of Colorado,” said Erin Mewhinney, director of the state’s early care and learning division in the office of early childhood.

She said while forest schools are popular in United Kingdom — where leaders of Worldmind and The Nursery School have both attended special teacher training courses — Colorado weather and terrain pose different challenges

“We all love the outdoors, but we all know how dangerous it is and we’re trying to strike a balance with that license type,” she said.

A sense of freedom

The recent Worldmind class where 2-year-old Ben plopped in the creek took place at Matthews/Winters Park in Golden on a warm, sunny May morning. While Patterson offered some general structure to the dozen kids in attendance — a snack break, a brief discussion of a picture book they’d read, and a chance to feel animal pelts, the kids were mostly free to do what they wanted.

Their parents lingered nearby, chatting with each other, chasing after younger siblings, or joining their kids in the creek or on a green tarp laid out nearby. It felt like a big, free-flowing playdate in the woods.

To be sure, there were the usual little-kid frustrations. One small girl, after repeatedly scrambling up the bank of the creek without much trouble, was reduced to tears once her hands went from merely dirty to muddy.

Worldmind’s upcoming pilot program class will look similar to the child and caregiver class, though without the parents. It will take place at Denver’s City Park, with the adjacent Denver Museum of Nature and Science serving as a backup in case of extreme weather.

Several parents who attended the recent class at Matthews/Winters Park said they planned to send their children to the pilot program. They often used the same word to describe why they liked the outdoor classes: Freedom.

Brittany Courville, of Lakewood, said she brought her 5-year-old daughter Siena to her first Worldmind session after the family relocated to Colorado from Texas a few years ago. The move had been jarring for the then 2-year-old, but the outdoor class seemed to restore her spirits.

“She loved it … It was freezing and she didn’t want to leave,” said Courville. “You know, you go to library story times — ‘Sit down. Do this. Do that’ — and she came here and there were other kids she could play with and also be herself and just explore.”

PHOTO: Ann Schimke
Megan Patterson works with children to make a dam in a creek during a recent “forest school” class.

Brit Lease, a Denver resident and the mother of 2-year-old Ben, has friends who are excited that their daughter’s preschool has pledged she’ll be reading on a first-grade level by the time she starts kindergarten. But Lease doesn’t want that for Ben.

“What social-emotional learning did they miss out on or interpersonal kinds of things did they miss out on because they were so focused on learning how to read?” she asked.

While she talked, Ben growled like a tiger and showed off his “sword” — fashioned out of two thin branches bound together with black cord.

“My theory right now is just let them be kids as long as they can because it does start sooner,” Lease said. “Kindergarten is no joke anymore.”

A bigger tent

While Patterson launched Worldmind with a primary focus on getting kids outside, she’s lately shifted her goals. The organization is revamping its mission to aim for racial and ethnic, socioeconomic, cultural, and ability diversity.

If Worldmind becomes licensed, she also plans to accept state child-care subsidies. Tuition for four half-days of forest school during the fall semester of the pilot project runs about $2,900.

But like other outdoor preschool providers, Patterson knows the typical part-day forest school schedule doesn’t work for everybody.

In part to accommodate working parents, Patterson hopes by the fall of 2019 to open a brick-and-mortar child care center that would still focus on outdoor learning, while enabling Worldmind to serve infants and toddlers, and offer full-day care for children up to age 6.

Megan Patterson, the founder of Worldmind Nature Immersion School, talks with two children while others play nearby.

Hebard said he doesn’t plan to accept child-care subsidies because they come with requirements he thinks don’t apply to an outdoor preschool model. These include evaluating students using a state-approved assessment tool.

Still, he would eventually like to raise money for a scholarship program. But with only a handful of tuition-paying families enrolled now and much of his extra time spent working nights at UPS Inc., that reality could be a ways off.

“It would be nice to have a broader demographic,” he said. “It’s a good opportunity for any child.”

Nationally, some forest preschools have come up with creative ways to open their doors to a wider slice of their communities. For example, the Forest Freedom School, based in Oakland, gives students of a color a 30 percent break on tuition. It’s billed as the “Struggle Is Real” discount.

Aside from financial obstacles, there can be cultural barriers that make outdoor preschools perplexing or unthinkable for some families. These may include worries that children will get sick if they spend time in the rain and cold or simply the sense that school isn’t an outdoor activity.

Hebard said a colleague at another organization told him about concerns voiced by parents about plans to replace the preschool’s brightly colored plastic play equipment with a nature-themed playground. Some of the parents worked outside all day and were put off by the idea of their children playing in the dirt at school.

Overcoming those perceptions will take parent education and outreach to local groups that work with communities of color, forest school leaders say.

Kenny said programs must be aggressive about serving all kinds of families. And it’s not just tuition help that’s needed, she said. Because children are outside in all kinds of weather, families may need help ensuring their children have access to high-quality clothing and gear.

“It’s incumbent on these schools to offer some kind of assistance because right now the government’s not doing it, nobody’s doing it,” she said.

Prize money

A million dollars, 570 hopefuls, and 15 winners: How a new competition aims to boost babies and toddlers

PHOTO: JGI/Jamie Grill | Getty Images
Boy displaying drawing.

A Colorado team is one of 15 winners to share in $1 million awarded by a Denver-based organization as part of a new contest recognizing innovative efforts benefitting children from birth to 3 years old.

The Boulder-based team will receive $80,000 for a project that helps little kids acquire language, thinking, and social-emotional skills using a cell phone app inside a stuffed animal.

Gary Community Investments, which gives grants and makes for-profit investments to benefit low-income children and families, announced the winners of the Early Childhood Innovation Prize on Tuesday afternoon. (Gary Community Investments, through the Piton Foundation, is a Chalkbeat funder.)

The Colorado team that won prize money developed a tool called MindScribe. It works like this. An adult slips a cell phone with a special application into the belly of a stuffed zebra. The app prompts the child to explain what they are doing or making and asks follow-up questions, such as “What happened next?” and “Why?”

MindScribe founder Layne Hubbard, a Ph.D. student in computer science at the University of Colorado Boulder, said her work as a teacher at Boulder’s Children’s House Preschool inspired the project.

“I thought back to storytelling and how powerfully the children’s original stories catalyzed growth, development, and connectedness,” she wrote via email. “I realized that I wanted to scale this opportunity to reach young children across diverse early childhood communities, especially those which are multilingual, low-income, or affected by trauma or disability.”

One little girl who stars in a MindScribe’s demonstration video describes her crayon drawing of a garden — and her fictional protagonist’s desire to change “boring weather” — to the MindScribe zebra for seven minutes.

But the girl, Mia, isn’t oblivious to the cell phone inside the paunchy stuffed animal. Instead, she’s delighted.

She explain how it works to her father, saying, “This is like the teacher but with a radio inside the teacher.”

Mindscribe, which is still in the pilot stage, began with three languages and is now available in 11.

The Early Childhood Innovation Prize, unveiled by Gary last fall, is distinctive because there are few contests that focus on very young children — despite a large body of evidence showing that high-quality care and education for this group yield significant financial and societal dividends.

Leaders at Gary invited prize submissions from teams with advanced ideas, early-stage ideas, and nascent concepts. Five advanced winners received $100,000 each, five early-stage winners received $80,000 each, and five beginning-concept winners receiving varying shares of $100,000. Gary also recognized seven teams, including one from a Colorado Springs-based network of child care centers, that didn’t win money but offered promising ideas.

The contest used an online platform that made each submission publicly viewable and allowed teams to get feedback from fellow candidates, and in some cases, mentoring from experts.

“We really wanted the prize to be an engaging opportunity for people in the early childhood field,” said Steffanie Clothier, Gary’s child development investment director.

Gary received 570 submissions, with winning ideas coming from nonprofit and for-profit groups, universities, city governments, and the National Head Start Association.

One winning team aims to eradicate book deserts by putting children’s reading materials in public spaces like barber shops and beauty salons. Another proposes classes on mindfulness to reduce child care providers’ stress levels. Several feature technology solutions — to improve child care business operations or promote early developmental screenings.

Clothier said although most of the prize winners are testing projects outside Colorado, their ideas could eventually be replicated here. She said the organization has not decided whether to hold the innovation competition again.