Mrs. Lopez drowned herself in a sea of ​​personal troubles. “I couldn’t love these children the way they deserved to be loved,” she told me. “I tried to put the boundaries between myself and a 4 year old. Then one day I picked him up and cuddled, and he melted in my arms. “

Ms. Sloan also chatted for hours with Jackson’s mother, not as a rushed teacher but as a quiet counselor, and those conversations paid off. “It’s great to have someone to talk to because I don’t get a lot of support,” said his mother. “Tena helped me understand Jackson better. And he’s fine. “

Jackson isn’t the only kid struggling in the program. Many of Kidango’s children bring their traumatic stories with them as if they were backpacks. Marcus, a 2 year old, is fighting with his classmates. Four-year-old Jeremiah, painfully withdrawn, roams the classroom. The teachers and counselors roll up their sleeves and go to work.

“We used to think the problem was the child,” said Scott Moore, the nonprofit’s executive director. “Now we ask what it takes to help each child.”

Covid-19 pierced Kidango’s families like a tornado. Parents have lost their jobs, food was sometimes in short supply, homelessness has become more common, depression and domestic violence are on the rise, family members are dying.

Many teachers have had similar problems and also have difficulty coping with them.

Like sponges, the children have soaked up the chaos that surrounds them. Teachers report that children fear getting sick or infecting someone they love.

After three months of closure, Kidango reopened in June, although public schools remained closed. The teachers understood that distance learning would not work for 2 and 3 year olds, that physical closeness was the only way to connect.