I thought I’d won the daycare lottery. Then our centre was bought out and everything changed

‘[The childcare centre’s] apparent priority is minimising costs and maximising profit at the expense of staff morale and continuity of care for children.’ Photograph: galitskaya/Getty Images

When my child was enrolled in my local daycare, I felt as though I’d won the lottery. According to mothers’ groups and parent Facebook forums, it was the early learning centre of the postcode: a small, independently run facility with a reputation for retaining educators, a rare thing in an industry known for burning and churning staff.

Day after day, I happily handed over my child to educators who worked to a regular and predictable roster. I came to know and trust them to care for and teach her. Though the daycare was run for profit, it had a strong sense of community. Most staff had been with the centre for more than five years, some for more than 10. The owner knew the name of every kid in the centre. Her family lavishly catered our end-of-year party.

Childcare was the one part of my disorganised life that was sorted. I paid the government-subsidised fees and in return my child received generous care from experienced educators who loved their jobs.

Then the centre was sold to a large childcare company and everything changed.

The new company operates about a dozen early learning centres across the city and touts itself as a family-run business, which is small consolation. After all, the same could be said of Waystar Royco. I braced for the cost-cutting measures and staff turnover that typically come with a corporate takeover, while holding out hope that my centre would be the exception to the rule.

Within weeks, long-time permanent staff members resigned. My inbox pinged with emails with subject lines that became all too familiar: “Goodbye Miss X”; “It’s time to say farewell Mister Y”. The centre was increasingly staffed by a revolving door of casuals from a third-party agency; as soon as I – and my child – learned their names, they’d disappear.

When parents gently asked the dwindling pool of remaining, miserable-looking educators what was going on, they told us about inflexible upper management, sudden operational changes made without consulting staff and “optimised” rosters that effectively shuffled educators between classrooms to maintain the mandatory minimum staff-to-child ratios. By comparison, the previous owner overstaffed classrooms to lessen the burden among carers, keep educators in the same classrooms, and therefore provide consistent, quality care for children.

Along with other parents, I emailed the centre manager – a talented educator turned middle manager who must walk the line between supporting staff and absorbing decisions from the owners – with my concerns. In response, staff were reprimanded for discussing their grievances with parents and threatened with punitive action for breaching the non-disclosure terms of their employment.

For years my local daycare was operated by a person I’d trust with my child for up to 10 hours a day. Now it is run from the top by faceless corporate strangers whose apparent priority is minimising costs and maximising profit at the expense of staff morale and continuity of care for children.

With the previous daycare owner I could walk straight into her office and discuss any concerns I had with the centre. This is hypothetical, because I had no concerns. Now, I wouldn’t know the new owners from a craft-time pipe cleaner. I’ve never met them in person, nor seen them at the centre. The previous owner gave me her personal phone number. I don’t even know the email addresses of the new operators. They did not come to last year’s Christmas party, catered with a few plates of sandwiches.

The newly hired educators are doing their best, though I’m unsure how long they’ll last. Childcare is a demanding job, for the 11th lowest hourly rate in the country. If a company’s culture does not prioritise workers’ wellbeing, they will move elsewhere – demand for early childhood workers outstrips supply – or quit the sector altogether. After just a few months, some already have.

If the neighbourhood gossip is right, the childcare centre a few streets away has even bigger problems. What does it say about the broken childcare landscape that parents like me must settle for the least bad option? We can’t all win the lottery. The most we can do is try our luck and hope our children don’t lose.

• The author of this story asked to remain anonymous to protect the identity of their children and the workers who care for them