My name is Marta, and I am the mother of Janosch, a happy and inquisitive boy. He enjoyed attending kindergarten for two years. Then, however, everything was different.
He would cry every morning, hold on to me, and beg me not to be taken, Mom.
I initially believed it to be a phase, the so-called “terrible threes.” However, I had a gut feeling that something was seriously amiss. Janosch was no longer himself.
I attempted to speak to him softly, but he seemed frightened, withdrawn, and almost shaking. He then muttered one day:
– “I no longer want to eat there.”
I felt cold after hearing those remarks. He was always a terrific eater. What was going on during the meal
The day that everything was different
I went to the kindergarten the following day at noon and had a quick look through a large window.
I noticed my son sitting there with tears in his eyes. He was receiving severe words from a woman, a teacher I didn’t know:
— “Spread your tongue! Now eat! With a snap, she shoved a spoon into his mouth.
He began to choke, sobbed, and shook his head.
— “STOP!” I hurried in and yelled.
“Avoid touching him again!”
“You can’t be here!” the teacher said in an attempt to stop me.
— “And is it okay for you to treat a child that way?” I fired back, trembling with anger.
