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Find more Kappan articles in the
Who Cares for The Children? Denmark's Unique Public Child-Care Model While anti-tax discourse pervades public consciousness in the U.S. and has assumed the status of natural law, we might do well to pause and think about what we have lost by failing to create a publicly subsidized day-care system and a generous set of family support policies, Ms. Polakow reminds us.
WHO CARES FOR the children is a politically charged question in the United States in 1997 -- a question that confronts all working parents and particularly single mothers working in low-wage employment. The chronic lack of affordable, licensed, high-quality child care has a long tradition in this society, rooted in ideologies about motherhood, the family, and the role of government. However, it is instructive to consider an alternative tradition -- one in which government and parents share responsibility for child care and public funding for the care of young children receives widespread support among citizens of all socioeconomic classes. In Denmark it is laid down by law that day-care facilities must be available to all children, and the government has assumed the cost of subsidizing a high-quality, comprehensive child-care system for infants and children from 6 months to 7 years of age, as well as an extensive after-school child-care system for school-age children. During 1995-96 I lived in Denmark and spent many fascinating months researching Danish family and child-care policies, conducting interviews and observations from the top down and from the bottom up in order to develop an "in vivo" understanding of the strong public policies that support families and children. In this article I present a portrait of Denmark's unique national model of public child care. Child Care and Universal Entitlements In order for readers to understand the current success and popularity of the Danish child-care system, it is necessary to place the widespread support for child care within the context of the social democratic infrastructure of the Danish welfare state. Denmark has a long tradition of public family support policies and egalitarian values resulting in social policies that aim at uniting rather than dividing the population. Universalism is promoted as a goal for all entitlement programs. Public support and social services are seen as rights because the welfare of all citizens is seen as a collective social responsibility. Together with the other Nordic countries, Denmark has developed an impressive multi-tiered system of universal support policies for families, thereby removing chronic family and child poverty.2 A comprehensive national child-care policy is seen as a vital component of this system, which is intended to sustain family life and parenting, irrespective of family form. There is a statutory paid maternity leave (four weeks before birth and 14 weeks after) followed by a paid parental leave for one or both parents for an additional 10 weeks. When the infant is 6 months old, another 26-week parental leave, which is paid at a flat rate (about 80% of the level for maternity and initial parental leave), may be taken by one or both parents. This leave may be extended to 52 weeks with an employer's agreement. In addition, the system includes universal child and family allowances, a single-parent allowance, and a monthly social assistance stipend, as well as housing subsidies, generous unemployment benefits, and universal health care. While working mothers in the United States, particularly low-income single mothers, wrestle daily with a child-care crisis involving unavailable infant care, high costs, lack of access, and lack of regulation,3 in Denmark high-quality child care is a guaranteed entitlement for every child, regardless of economic status. The Danish day-care system has for decades been internationally recognized for its extensive, high-quality services,4 and there is increasing demand for those services. A comprehensive, subsidized public day-care system serves infants from the age of 6 months, and each local kommune (municipality) guarantees a child-care slot for all 1-year-olds, with single parents frequently receiving priority placement. Because day care is available, accessible, and widely supported by all segments of the population, mothers -- both single and married -- are able to work and become economically self-sufficient. The Organization of the Public Day-Care System The subsidized public day-care system, under the jurisdiction of the Ministry of Social Affairs, offers both professional center-based care for children from infancy through age 6 and paraprofessional home-based family day care for infants and toddlers up to age 3. With the maternity and parental leave policies, infants generally do not enter day care before the age of 6 months. Since formal schooling begins only at age 7, most Danish children are in day care for approximately six years. Paraprofessional family day care. The Dagpleje (family day care) is a neighborhood-based system administered by the local kommune. The caregivers, known as dagplejemødre (day-care mothers), receive three weeks of child development training during their first year and are supervised by a certified early childhood pædagog (teacher). Family day-care homes are inspected prior to licensing, and complete background and police checks are completed for all adult household members. If the day-care mother is selected as a potential applicant, other family members living at home are also screened by an early childhood supervisor. According to Eva Halse, director of the Copenhagen Østerbro Family Day Care Services, only about 25% of eligible applicants actually make it through the rigorous selection process. After the initial one-year period, early childhood supervisors visit "experienced" family day-care homes on a monthly basis and are on call to discuss any problems and offer ongoing professional support. While official regulations permit a 1:5 caregiver-to-infant/toddler ratio,5 I never found this arrangement in any of the sites I visited in metropolitan Copenhagen. The family day-care mothers there are regularly assigned three children, unless two are infants, in which case the ratio is 1:2. The day-care homes are grouped in neighborhood clusters of six or seven, and once a week each cluster of day-care mothers and their respective children spend the day together at a legestue (a three-room mini-day-care center fully equipped by the kommune), which is used on a rotating basis by five different neighborhood cluster groups. In this way the day-care mothers are not isolated in their homes and develop relationships with other caregivers and with the other children in their cluster. If a day-care mother falls ill or goes on vacation, she has back-up substitutes, each of whom is permitted to take on an extra child in her care. Once a month the cluster is also visited by its early childhood supervisor, who observes and meets with the caregivers during nap time. As unionized municipal employees, all family day-care mothers receive five weeks of paid vacation a year, full pensions, and a monthly salary of approximately 11,418 Dkr (U.S. equivalent: $2,003). Day-care centers. There are several types of day-care centers serving infants and preschool children and providing after-school care. All the centers are run by certified pædagoger (teachers), assisted by paraprofessionals.6 Both the teachers and the assistants are unionized municipal employees, with salaries for teachers in metropolitan Copenhagen ranging from 15,600 Dkr to 18,500 Dkr per month (U.S. equivalent: $2,736 to $3,245) and for assistants from 12,000 Dkr to 14,000 Dkr per month (U.S. equivalent: $2,105 to $2,456). All staff members receive pensions, get five weeks of paid vacation per year, and work between 30 and 37 hours a week.
In addition to the three types of centers described above, there are also after-school centers for elementary children between the ages of 6 and 9 and new experimental "forest schools" for children from 4 to 6 years of age, who spend the entire year experiencing intensive outdoor/environmental education. These "forest schools" have become increasingly popular among parents, particularly those living in the cities. It is significant to note that the public day-care system is supported by government funds but is decentralized and run by each local kommune, which decides fees and ratios within the broad mandates of the Danish government, to which it is accountable for providing high-quality care for all children irrespective of their families' economic status. There is also a small private day-care sector run by private associations, but the private centers too receive approximately 80% of their funds from their local kommune and must follow the same operating guidelines. While day-care costs exhibit slight variations from kommune to kommune, the tuition costs overall are fairly standardized (with $5 to $15 differences in monthly costs, depending on the area). In Copenhagen, for example, full-time care for an infant at either a family day-care home or an infant/toddler center in 1995-96 cost a maximum of 1,525 Dkr per month (U.S. equivalent: $267), and maximum full-time preschool costs were 1,325 Dkr (U.S. equivalent: $232). Fees are set on a sliding scale, with tuition waived for the lowest-income parents and then rising from approximately $11.60 per month to full tuition rates for those with annual incomes of more than $33,560. The family day-care system is widely used in areas where there is high demand for infant care and in rural areas of the country, where centers are not as readily available. In some areas family day-care costs are a little lower than the center-based care (approximately $15 to $20 per month lower), with slightly longer hours. By combining a well-supervised paraprofessional system with a national public day-care center system, the Danes are attempting to meet working parents' increasing demand for day-care slots. While there is not yet full coverage, Danish family policy objectives aim toward that goal. It is significant to note that, in 1995, 60% of infants and over 80% of 3- to 6-year- olds were in public day care.10 While the structure, organization, and public financing of the day-care system are impressive, so too is the quality of infant and preschool care. During the fall of 1995, I visited five family day-care homes, attended the weekly cluster group meetings of family day-care mothers, and observed at seven different day-care centers. While the bulk of my observations took place in metropolitan Copenhagen, I also visited several sites in rural areas and interviewed staff members at all the day-care sites. In the following sections I present some brief snapshots of day care in action. Stepping Inside: Family Day Care in Action Jytte11 is a single mother in her late twenties with two children. Her 5-year-old attends a nearby preschool, and she takes care of her own 15-month-old daughter and two other toddlers, explaining that she chose to become a family day-care mother so that she could spend more time with her children. I visited Jytte's home in the Nordhavn area -- a lovely old neighborhood of flats and small shops near the harbor. Jytte's flat was on the second floor, comfortably furnished, with two bedrooms and a large living-room area. Jytte was returning from a morning outing with her daughter, Lise; Per,18 months; and Bo, 12 months. All three toddlers were sitting in the large baby carriage supplied by her local kommune. Jytte lifted the two older ones out first and then picked up Bo, who had fallen asleep. After locking up the baby carriage outside, we entered the building, and the two toddlers clambered up the steps as Jytte unlocked the door, still holding Bo. As they entered the flat, Bo woke, and she took off his coat and mittens (it was a cold October morning) while the two toddlers peeled off their jackets and mittens and ran to take their slippers from the bedroom. Jytte was calm and efficient, talking to the two toddlers softly while undressing Bo and eventually changing his diaper in the bedroom on a changing table. All three children then moved to the living-room area, where large blocks were set out, and Jytte went to prepare a snack in the kitchen. Milk and crackers and bananas were placed on the table, and when the children caught sight of the snack they went to fetch their bibs -- including Bo, who crawled over to reach his. Jytte smiled as I remarked on how they each knew their own bibs (and earlier their slippers), telling me, "They are so clever -- they always remind me if I forget to do anything." She lifted Bo into his high chair while Lise and Per climbed up onto theirs. Jytte began to sing a song while clapping her hands, and the toddlers followed suit, shouting out different sounds. Bo tried to pour his own milk, following the example of the two older toddlers, but he missed and the milk fell on the plastic cloth under the table. Jytte promptly produced a sponge and wiped it up, then held Bo's arm and encouraged him to pour again. She cuddled all three children on the couch after the snack and then put Bo down for a nap in one of the three cribs in the bedroom, while the two older ones were playing on the couch. The atmosphere was warm and nurturing, and Jytte remained calm and unruffled as the children became cranky later in the morning. After their morning play period, when Jytte also read them several stories, she prepared lunch -- milk and finger foods with fruit. Then she changed all three babies. Both Per and Lise went to fetch their own diapers from a large box, to which she smilingly replied "tak" (thank you); after they were changed and down in their cribs with pacifiers, Jytte relaxed in the living room, telling me, "This is my one hour of quiet! I treasure it." Jytte has been a family day-care mother for more than four years, beginning when her older son was a baby. She appreciates the fact that she is able to count her own child as one of her day-care clients and speaks warmly of her supervisor as "always ready to help if there are any problems." As a family day-care mother, Jytte receives an allowance for food, diapers, and equipment, and one-third of her salary is tax free to compensate for the use of her home. All family day-care mothers are supplied with a large baby carriage, which seats up to four children. All the day-care mothers use these carriages as their main mode of transportation, and indeed it is a common sight on Copenhagen streets around 10 a.m. to see day-care mothers wheeling their young charges onto buses, off trains, through the downtown area, in parks, through wind and rain and fog. Even as the icy winds of November blew in, there was no decrease of activity, as exercise and fresh air are considered an essential part of Danish child care at all ages. All the caregivers I interviewed, including Jytte, expressed satisfaction with their occupation. In addition, the other day-care mothers told me how important their weekly cluster meeting was: "We can share our problems and talk with each other as adults. If you are always alone talking to small children every day without a break, it can make you feel crazy." Stepping Inside: Day-Care Centers in Action I visited seven day-care centers: three infant/toddler centers, three preschools, and one age-integrated institution. The diverse early childhood centers I observed in Copenhagen, Frederiksberg, and Herlev were all high-quality programs, providing flexible, play-based, developmental early education, with a strong focus on child-centered, child-initiated learning. Expressive group-oriented activities were fostered, and symbolic representation (as in the Reggio Emilia approach) was seen as a key to intellectual learning. Music and movement were central features of the morning, and the rest of the day was loosely and flexibly structured according to the children's play desires. Field trips took place several times a week -- the preschoolers were taken via trains and buses to visit monuments, art galleries, outdoor theaters, libraries, parks, the harbor, and the forests. The programs were characterized by an open and flexible structure with an absence of teacher-directed learning. Autonomy and independence were fostered (4-year-olds were permitted to play alone in small groups with no adults present, both inside and outside), and cooperative play and socially inclusive group activities were emphasized. There was a strong bias against any form of exclusion. When asked about the use of "time outs" with "difficult" children, Danish teachers uniformly reacted with horror at such an unthinkable practice, and one director told me, "No, never. We would never isolate a child -- maybe that is one thing we in Denmark would get sued over!" Another head teacher remarked, "Often it is us. We have to look at how we are. Often we must change the way we are with the child or the way we say something, or sometimes we must look together with the parents at what is making the child angry or sad. But we should never isolate or punish the child who is having trouble." These perceptions about discipline and child management techniques were expressed by both directors and teachers at all the sites. In fact, the consistent responses across seven different centers serving diverse groups of children revealed key Danish educational tenets, influenced by N. F. S. Grundtvig (the Danish John Dewey): equality, social solidarity, cooperation, and gentle teaching. There were also strong injunctions against any formal "teaching" of reading or math readiness. All forms of early childhood intervention for vulnerable "at-risk" children were conducted within the child's center, where the services of a social worker and a psychologist were regularly available. The following observations capture the flavor of a typical day at an age-integrated center. I walked in to observe a lunch time with the youngest group of children. The cook, also a salaried municipal employee, was serving the food. Eleven babies and toddlers (ranging in age from 10 to 23 months) and three teachers were seated around a long table. The teachers tied on the children's feeding bibs and passed out forks (actual silverware) and china plates -- even the youngest there picked up his fork, as the lox and ham and liverwurst spread on smorrebrød (open-faced sandwiches) were passed around. Bjarne (about 18 months old) poured his own milk with a great flourish, and others followed suit. The teachers moved quietly around, wiping up splashes of milk with wet washcloths. Next came the second course: mini-quiche pieces with strong Danish cheese and slices of tomato. A 1-year-old ladled a piece onto her plate and then tried to stab it with her fork; on the third try she successfully speared the piece and put it in her mouth. She lunged for the pitcher and poured herself more milk, laughing as some splashed on her bib. The small pitchers were now empty, and a "mere maelk" (more milk) chant began. The toddlers banged with their forks, laughing uproariously, and the smiling teachers refilled the pitchers. Then the toddlers reached for them again, taking turns, amid many wild splashes. As the eating, pouring, and serving continued, no child fussed to come down from his or her high chair, and all valiantly ate with their forks, using chubby little fingers to collect what didn't quite make it to their mouths. After about 25 minutes, Bjarne, the eldest, made a move to get down. A teacher gently told him to wait, and she brought out warm washcloths and passed them around. The toddlers wiped their faces with some help from the adults, who intervened only after the children had first tried to do it themselves. The teachers said "tak for mad" (thank you for the meal), which the toddlers repeated. After lunch three toddlers went alone into the arts-and-crafts room, with a teacher watching from the open doorway. One toddler climbed onto a low table and, laughing, pulled a furry mobile down. A teacher looked in and told him "nej" (no) but left him on the table. He jumped down, picked up a puzzle piece, and threw it across the room. An older child (about 5 or 6 years of age) came in, told him "nej" sternly, and picked up the piece. As the older girl fit the piece into the puzzle, a teacher came in and took the toddler for a diaper change before putting him down for his outside nap in a kommune-supplied baby carriage. (I later learned that all babies and toddlers sleep outside unless the temperature drops below 0 degrees centigrade!) The relaxed atmosphere at lunch was a common occurrence that I observed at different centers. The staff members were attentive but intentionally allowed the toddlers to experiment and rarely intervened. I was surprised to see the toddlers eat so competently and sit for such an extended period of time, but it was clear that autonomy and independence were being fostered -- amid an acceptance of milky messes and many a miss -- and that these young children were being socialized effectively for their future Danish dinners, which, I subsequently discovered, often extended to midnight and beyond, with elaborate multiple courses of delectable and elegant cuisine! The following description is drawn from a preschool I visited outside Copenhagen. Four 3-year-olds were playing in the large activity room, which was essentially a free space until lunch, when tables were set up. The four were running together, colliding, and dissolving into gales of laughter. One began jumping on the couch, and the other three followed suit. Therese (the leader) jumped from the couch and pulled several large wooden blocks (which doubled as high chairs) to make "steps," and the children began a pattern of follow the leader on the couch and then balancing on the "steps." Suddenly Morten shouted to the other three to wait as he transformed the blocks into a "train," leaving one step to climb. He now assumed the lead, and the other three followed a new pattern of jumping on the couch, climbing onto the "step," and then riding the train. They all cooperated in the game, making train noises, and several others joined in so that there were now seven riding the train, with one serving as ticket collector for make-believe tickets. Several teachers walked by, smiling but not interfering, and the game continued for about half an hour. I was fascinated by the cooperative nature of their play. No conflicts ensued, and several children inventively extended the initial game so that there were multidimensional forms of representation involving many symbols and artifacts. The key was that the children had complete autonomy; they had taken over the space and made it their own. Both children and adults looked on, respecting the world of the train riders. As one of the teachers commented, explaining her philosophy of early childhood education: "Never, never interrupt their play. We have an absolute emphasis on always respecting their play!" In the arts-and-crafts room an extensive assortment of materials was arranged around the perimeter of the room, with Lego blocks in profusion, as well as books, pattern blocks, drawing/cutting/painting supplies, dozens of little plastic farm animals, farm people, and other miniatures. Three children, ranging in age from 3 to 6, were playing with the farm animals and different miniature flowers, sorting them into sets. One 4-year-old, Kresten, began building a symmetrical horizontal and vertical structure using the Lego blocks. I watched him; he was completely engrossed for about 20 minutes. Next to Kresten, Julie began to build a "garden." Inge entered the building area, picked up a Lego block, and threw it at Julie's garden, and Julie began to cry. A teacher walked over and immediately comforted Julie, but before the teacher could talk to Inge, Inge threw another block. Several of the adjacent children shouted "nej, nej" at Inge, and two repaired Julie's garden, saying "så" (a common exclamation equivalent to "there you go"). Inge stopped and watched as the teacher moved over and began to play with farm animals, telling a story in Danish about a duck who quacked loudly and who met other animals in Julie's garden, all of which made different sounds. The children were entranced, and all sat listening, including Inge. Meanwhile, the little builder, Kresten, who was both listening and building, now tried to fit the farm animals under an overturned box, next to his elaborate structure. But the large animals wouldn't fit. A little girl moved out of the story circle, came over and looked, and tried to lift the box. Together they figured out that Kresten needed to lift up the box and tilt it in order to fit the larger animals inside. As the story ended, the teacher took Inge on her lap. Two new children joined Kresten and his helper, who had now created a working farm with different tasks for the animals; all four children developed roles for themselves and continued their farm play for another 20 minutes. At lunch time they built a fence and left it standing as they moved to the lunchroom. In this center, as in others I visited, the children had an autonomy of action that led to inventive transformational play. The respect accorded to children's expressive activities was in clear contrast to the approach that I have observed over the years in many child-care centers in the U.S., which are overly regimented and highly structured (despite guidelines embracing developmentally appropriate practice). In these Danish centers, gentle, respectful teaching à la Martin Haberman and Stacie Goffin12 appeared to be the norm. Most impressive was the social/cooperative nature of group play, which clearly dominated daily experience. The above incidents of children intervening both to reprimand and to assist one another were not atypical. In fact, I observed such incidents at all seven sites. What Can We Learn from the Danes? While there were local differences between the various centers I visited -- four had two or more male early childhood teachers on site, and two were ethnically diverse, with large numbers of immigrant children (particularly Turkish, Pakistani, and Bosnian) -- all seven centers were nurturing, flexibly structured, and developmentally supportive, with a strong emphasis on social cooperation, expressive activity, child-initiated learning, and the "sacred" nature of play. These Danish day-care centers were part of a high-quality day-care system run by trained early childhood professionals with good paraprofessional assistance, and they were supported and appreciated by working parents. The family day-care homes, offering alternative infant care to parents, were well-organized, well-regulated, and carefully supervised by early childhood professionals. Clearly, the design of this paraprofessional system could be seen as one model for increasing access to and quality of infant- and toddler-care services in the U.S. The Danish public day-care system is popular, and the status and respect accorded to early childhood teachers reflect the central place of day care in Danish family life. Day care is both accessible and affordable, and the operating costs and teacher salaries are subsidized by the local government; hence it is possible to run a high-quality system in which staff turnover is low. The widespread social support and the public economic base for a strong universal child-care system are phenomena from which we in the U.S. could learn a great deal; particularly impressive is the way in which a universal day-care system promotes equality of early educational opportunities for young children, because access to services does not depend on economic or family status. The families who are potentially most vulnerable -- low-income single mothers and children, families experiencing domestic violence, immigrant families, refugee families, and "socially disabled" families -- are given priority placement, because public day care is seen as both an equalizer and a potent force for the successful integration of the young into Danish society. Contrast the Danish day-care system, which serves all children irrespective of their parents' economic status, with the current realities for poor families in the U.S. Head Start reached only 36% of income-eligible children in 1995 and remains underfunded.13 There is also a national crisis of affordable child care for all American children whose parents are low-wage earners. The recent report released by the General Accounting Office, reviewing federally funded early childhood centers in different states across the nation, found severe health and safety violations in each of the states investigated and concluded that lack of regulation and monitoring was a critical cause.14 Nancy Ebb also raised urgent concerns about the quality and availability of federally subsidized child care for families collecting AFDC (Aid for Families with Dependent Children) and for the working poor.15 Meanwhile, with the dismantling of the federal welfare system, increasing numbers of poor single mothers will be forced into the workplace without adequate or affordable child care. The level of care is particularly inadequate for infants and toddlers, and findings from the Cost, Quality, and Child Outcomes study indicate that care for this age group may be even worse than previously documented.16 In this study, child care at most centers in the U.S. was rated poor to mediocre. Only 8% of the infant/toddler rooms received a rating of "good" quality, and 40% received a rating of less than "minimal" quality. Furthermore, in the absence of a nationally subsidized child-care system, private child-care costs are prohibitive -- not only for poor parents but for middle-income families as well. Frequently costs run $800 a month for high-quality center-based infant care. In Michigan, for example, high-quality full-time infant care in Washtenaw County has risen to $10,000 a year -- 40% more than undergraduate tuition costs at the University of Michigan. While participation in the labor force by mothers of young children in the U.S. is high -- 59.7% of women with children under 6 17 -- there is a dearth of family-support policies to assist them. We have no paid maternity or parental leave, and the usual unpaid parental leave means that many mothers reenter the labor force when their infants are 12 weeks old or younger. We are the only country in the industrialized democratic world that fails its mothers and infants so abysmally in terms of family support and parental leave policies. Denmark not only has generous maternity and parental leave policies, but its public day-care system has made a very different family life possible for working parents, particularly working and single mothers. Of all European Community (EC) countries, Denmark has the highest rate of working mothers with young children, approximately 79%.18 The striking integration of day care into the fabric of society -- there is literally a small center on almost every block in the city of Copenhagen -- has created multilevel support from government and citizens and has become a part of the sacred universal system of benefits supported by high public taxes. While anti-tax discourse pervades public consciousness in the U.S. and has assumed the status of natural law, we might do well to pause and think about what we have lost by failing to create a publicly subsidized day-care system and a generous set of family support policies. "Who cares for the children?" is the perennial question. Clearly, in Denmark there is a sound partnership between parents and government, and their young children are the visible beneficiaries. 1. Social Policy in Denmark: Child and Family Policies (Copenhagen: Danish Ministry of Social Affairs, 1995), p. 4. VALERIE POLAKOW is a professsor in the College of Education, Eastern Michigan University, Ypsilanti. |
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