If you ask any of us what we’re looking for in a new teammate, we all say the same thing: “Someone with passion.” It’s what we write in our ads and what we look for in that first interview. We want to see that spark, because that’s what brought most of us into the field in the first place.
I get it—I really do. You don’t survive in early childhood for a decade (or decades) without caring with your whole heart. But I’ve also seen what happens when that passion doesn’t have a solid foundation to rest on. It burns out. We’ve all seen that amazing educator who gives everything until they just can’t anymore, then hands in their notice because they’re running on empty while everyone just tells them how “inspiring” they are.
When people talk about passion versus stability, my answer has changed. A few years ago, I would have chosen passion in a heartbeat. Now? I’m starting to think stability is the greatest gift we can give each other—and the children.
Why we love that passion
Don’t get me wrong, passion is a beautiful thing. Nobody wants to work in a place where people are just watching the clock.
A passionate educator just “gets it.” They feel the energy in the room and shift to meet it. They bring a warmth that you can’t teach. It’s that drive that has helped us fight for better funding and recognition over the years. It comes from people who care too much to just do the bare minimum.
So, I’m not saying we should care less. I’m just saying we’ve been asking our “care” to do a lot of heavy lifting that it wasn’t meant to do
The reality of the “Labour of Love”
This is the tough part: we’ve kind of built our whole way of working on a feeling.
But passion isn’t a plan. You can’t put it on a roster. You can’t be sure it’ll be there on a rainy Tuesday when you’re short-staffed, and everyone is tired. Feelings naturally go up and down, especially when we aren’t doing anything to refill our cups.
Sometimes, we use the “labour of love” excuse to overlook things like low pay or long hours. We tell ourselves that the work is its own reward, but then we’re shocked when our best people leave. They gave everything they had, and eventually, the tank just ran dry. We can’t keep acting surprised when that happens.
On its own, passion is like a candle—it’s bright, but it eventually burns out. And we need something that lasts.
The beauty of just being there
When I look at the centres and rooms that are truly thriving, the first thing I notice isn’t the excitement—it’s the calm that comes from knowing who will be there.
It’s seeing the same faces every morning. It’s the way a child relaxes because the person greeting them is the same person they trusted last week. This isn’t just a nice thought; it’s what the children actually need to feel safe. Consistent staffing is the secret ingredient to those deep, secure relationships we’re all trying to build.
A steady team also holds onto the little things—the history of a family or the specific way a certain child needs to be comforted. You can’t teach that in an induction. It makes the quality of care something parents can rely on, rather than something that changes depending on who’s on the roster today.
Is there a risk of getting “stuck in our ways”? Sure. But the fix for that isn’t less stability; it’s making sure the people who stay feel supported enough to keep growing.
What children really need is you
If we strip away all the paperwork and the “sector” talk, it’s actually pretty simple.
A child doesn’t attach to “enthusiasm”. They attach to a person. A real, familiar person who shows up for them term after term. That continuity is what makes them feel safe enough to actually start exploring and learning.
Passion makes that bond warmer, and I’d never want to lose it. But if I had to pick the one thing a child needs most? It’s the adult who stays.
Let’s build a foundation together.
So, how do we make this happen?
We have to stop treating our passion like it’s an endless well. Stability doesn’t just happen because we’re nice people; it has to be built intentionally.
That means looking at the real, practical things that keep us in the job:
- Pay and conditions that actually respect the work we do every day.
- Focusing on keeping the great people we have, rather than just finding their replacements.
- Workloads that allow us to be humans as well as educators.
These things aren’t the opposite of passion—they are what give passion a safe place to land. If we get the foundation right, our passionate educators can stay long enough to become the steady anchors our centres need.
So, what’s the choice?
Of course, we want both. But if I have to choose what to focus on first, I know my answer.
I’ll take stability and being there for each other every single time. Passion is wonderful, but it can’t be the whole foundation. Without stability, passion eventually turns into a goodbye letter. With stability, passion can turn into a career.
Let’s build the stability first. Let’s make sure we have a solid place to stand so that the spark that brought us here doesn’t have to go out.
The children in our care—and all of us doing this work—really do deserve that.
