Caroline Harrell has 18 jobs in her preschool classroom at MacArthur Early Childhood Center — one for every student, rotating weekly. The teacher's assistant helps her get things done. The electrician handles the lights on and off. The snack helper sets the table. The table cleaner wipes it down afterward with sanitizing wipes. The calendar helper counts the days and flips the date. The weather helper gets to leave the carpet, walk to the window, and report back what's happening outside — one of the favorites, because it involves freedom of movement. The librarian carries the big bin down to the library on library day, which is also a favorite, because of the big bin. The gardener waters the six plants in the classroom once a week. The timekeeper gets to yell "We have five minutes left to play!" — which, Caroline noted, they love, because it is authority.

There is also a line leader, two door holders, a cleanup crew, a caboose (the back-of-the-line job nobody wants, which Caroline reframes as "making sure all of our friends get to where they need to go"), a goodbye friend who ensures every child gets a proper farewell before dismissal ("it gets devastating if we don't get goodbyes"), a veterinarian, and a substitute who fills in for any job when someone is absent.

Three, four, and five-year-olds. Eighteen jobs. Every week, someone new.

Caroline came to MacArthur four years ago, after two years teaching in North Carolina. She grew up in the Quad Cities — her dad is from Macomb — started teaching in 2020, and landed here in 2022. She's always known she wanted to teach. Her family is full of educators. A third-grade teacher she had growing up made the pull impossible to resist: "I was like, maybe I can be a teacher."

The hamster helped. Caroline got a grant for classroom pets — two dwarf hamsters, one that lives at school and one that rotates home. The school one is named Small. The name came by vote, last year, when Caroline first brought her in. Each child submitted a candidate: Chicken Nugget, Crayon, Marker, Chip. The whole list, she noted, came from things children see in their immediate world — not names of people or characters, just objects around them. Small won. She is, in fact, the size of a palm. No tail — that's how you know she's a hamster and not a gerbil, which Caroline will explain to anyone who asks.

The veterinarian's job involves feeding Small, checking her water, maintaining her bedding, and offering treats. It ranks just below the line leader and the door holder in classroom prestige. "They like to be in charge more than hamster helper," Caroline said. But they all want to know she's okay, and they ask throughout the day.

For children who arrive carrying something heavy from home — and some do — the classroom has a soothing center: a cube stocked with fidgets, pillows, and blankets. Kids who need a few minutes can go in and decompress. If a child comes in hungry, there's a snack waiting. "I just make sure that when they're here, they know that they're loved and taken care of."

Her two paraprofessionals anchor the day. Miss Tara works mornings; her daughter, Gwen, is one of Caroline's students, so she gets to spend her mornings alongside her child. Ms. Jan works afternoons — she's 75, just started, and the kids have already adopted her as their classroom grandmother. "She's doing incredible," Caroline said.

Some of Caroline's students have been with her since they were three and are now turning five, heading to kindergarten at Lincoln. That arc — two years of a child becoming themselves — is what she describes as the best part of the job. "Seeing how far they come in the two years that I have them," she said, "it really shows how much effort not only me, but everybody else puts into them — and how much effort they're putting into themselves."

She thinks about parents, too. For many families, MacArthur is their first encounter with school — and some of those parents carry their own difficult memories of it. "I know some parents have bad backgrounds with schools themselves," she said. "So I don't want them to start their kids' education career with a bad taste in their mouth at three years old." The job, as she sees it, isn't just supporting children. It's welcoming families into something that should feel safe for everyone.