child

20 Dec

Consider The Audience

The benefits of reading aloud to young children are well documented. The only controversial question on the topic is boring. Teachers usually ask the question in the shrill, exasperated voice that unfortunately fits our stereotype: Why are there still so many parents who don’t read to their children?

Many parents do, of course, carve out time most days to sit down and read to our kids. We enjoy picking out new books. We have read some of our favorites so often the books have to be replaced, but we keep the old copies because there are so many memories associated with the kids we read to.

Nonetheless, there have always been too many children who enter school having never been read to. Working parents are often too tired at the end of the day, or too busy all day. Some parents are discouraged when children will not sit still long enough to listen. Many parents do not know how to pick books their young children will enjoy. In truth, each of these excuses – busy, tired, frustrated and overwhelmed – is true for most of us, some or all of the time.

It has never been hard to manufacture good reasons for not reading, but changes in technology have offered more convincing excuses to avoid sitting down beside a child with a book. Audio books are easily accessible, and in many cases, the recordings are exceptionally well done. Most popular children’s books have been made into more-popular movies. Hand-held and touch-screen devices allow the youngest children make independent choices, adjust the pace and volume of reading, stop and start at the times they select.

Without a dedicated adult and a book to hold, though, there is no dialogue, no warmth, and no love.

Advice

Here is the simplest, most effective advice, a three-word mantra for read-aloud parents: Consider your audience.

Try it, as I do, several times a day. In less time than it takes to finish the phrase in my mind, I am thinking of a particular child, or a group of kids, their ages and interests, the things they talk about, the subjects that make them laugh, and their attention spans. In a few seconds, I have all the information I need to make a good choice. It’s a tiny, internal flip, but it changes everything. Instead of beginning with a concern, or a sense of duty, or a desire to find the perfect bedtime story, the question turns my attention towards the kids I love.

Happily, the same “consider the audience” advice also works well while reading. Bad book choices are easily identified and replaced. Watching and listening while reading gives teachers and parents all the feedback we need. Humor, fear and confusion are hard to predict, but easy to notice. Maurice Sendak’s monsters are usually not scary, but Mr. McGregor in his garden is often terrifying. Mo Willems is not at all funny unless you read his books with a child. With a child as a reading companion, his characters and the situations he creates are hilarious.

Motivation

One of the strongest motivators for very young children who are just acquiring language is an earnest, urgent desire to express their needs and opinions. (For proof, watch a parent struggle with an unhappy infant, or a toddler in the midst of a tantrum). The same strength of character is revealed when a child is learning to listen. The youngest child will listen attentively when he is interested and has opportunities to respond with opinions and observations. If a child is bored, disconnected or disengaged, he will indeed walk away.

The desire to read begins when a child wants to know more about a subject, or when a story is so interesting she cannot bear for it to end, or when she wants to be like a loved, admired adult. Children who have been read to have longer attention spans, are more engaged, and more motivated. In short, children who have been read to enter school with the habits of good learners already firmly established.

21 Jul

A Gift from the Children

by Julia Clark | Montessori Blog

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Lessons of Kindness and Compassion in the Montessori Elementary Community

The school day starts with free play outside. We walk inside and I distractedly set down my things and prepare to guide the children through our daily mindfulness practice. A child comes over to me and I actively ignore him, trying to tend to the day’s little details before I recenter and connect with the children at the rug. He’s persistent, though, and finally gets my attention. “Ms. Clark, can I ask you something?” I’m pressed and short and say without looking at him, “Sure. Go for it.” He asks, “Can I sit separately from the community today during meditation? It’s just that a lot of people make me feel silly and I want to try to focus today.” I’m smiling on the inside, thinking, “he’s practicing mindfulness right now!” I turn to face him and try to stay pretty neutral. I reply, “Of course. Sounds like the right idea for today. Join us at the rug if you change your mind.”

Next on the docket, I accompany four children on a Going Out museum visit. They planned the trip themselves, as they’ve been prepared to do. I am the [mostly] quiet and supportive chaperone. One group, studying early humans, spends about 45 minutes taking notes while the youngest child in the group waits for her turn to visit the rocks and minerals exhibit upstairs. We break for lunch and I receive a message saying we have to get back to school earlier than expected. I share the disappointing news with the group, “we will have to plan another visit to see the rocks and minerals.” One of the boys who had the chance to finish taking his notes says with enthusiasm, “Next time we visit, we should let Sophia see the rocks and minerals first, since she didn’t get to take her notes.” Everyone takes the news in stride, accepting the disappointment while showing steely resolve to plan another trip next week.

Upon return to school, we meet up with the rest of the community on the playground for recess, and a spirited game of flag football is underway. One child yells, “PENALTY!” to another player who throws the ball too early (as far as my novice eyes can tell). Another child chimes in with a calm and friendly tone, “Come on, he’s just a learner. Let him take another try.” Everyone agrees. Game goes on.

Across the playground, a soccer game is underway and one child goes crashing down. Another player notices and yells to the others, “Guys! See if he’s hurt. If he’s hurt, you take a knee.” The group immediately falls to their knees. The fallen child takes a moment to himself and then stands up. Everyone else stands, saying nothing, and the game goes on.

Then, two children sprint over with fresh bunches of carrots from the garden, screaming with glee: “HARVEST TIME!” They plan to share the fresh food with our class guinea pig (and yes, this is a literal guinea pig, not the metaphorical kind of guinea pig that serves as a beta tester, as my sister thought when she first read this story, although we have those too!).

No community is perfect. Not every day feels this way. But today, from where I sit, the example of the children rises above the noisy internet full of persistently polarizing politics, and I remember why I wanted to do this work of peace education. These children, right now, have something we all need. How beautiful to observe the flowering of the qualities we take time to nurture in our community, how right it is to support the development of the whole child, not only tending to matters of the intellect, but also, the heart.

Julia Clark graduated from the University of Maryland with a degree in English Language and Literature in 2008. She received her AMI Montessori Elementary diploma from Washington Montessori Institute and her M.Ed. from Loyola University. She currently guides a community of thirty-three six-to-twelve year olds at Full Circle Montessori School in Arlington, Virginia.

05 Dec

The Spiritual Life of Children: A December Story

by Jennifer Rogers | Montessori Blog

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“We know how in well-led Montessori classes the children often have a remarkable susceptibility to holy and divine things. . . .we often find ourselves with unexpected revelations.” -Maria Montessori, God and the Child, 10

picture of girl watering a tree — ©MariaMontessori.com

Sami had just finished reading the introduction to our Parts of the Frog booklet. Definition booklets are usually challenging for our five-year-old readers. Some of the vocabulary was new to Sami, but he sailed through the reading with ease. He paused once at the end of the first page, to comment and ask a question.

“This is really interesting,” Sami said. “I’d like to be a scientist when I grow up. Do you think I could be a scientist?” he asked.

“Of course I do.” It was a too-easy response from his teacher, but it was true and honest. “You are interested in the things scientists are interested in.”

“I think so too,” Sami said, thoughtful and sincere. “I don’t believe God would let a little boy like me want to be a scientist if I couldn’t really be one.”

Sami resumed his reading. I continued listening, balancing tears on my eyelids. There are layers of beauty, confidence, faith, and trust in Sami’s comments. I will remember his words, I thought, through the darkest days of December.

“God prods and transforms the adult through the child.” -Maria Montessori, God and the Child, 22

In the two years we have had together, Sami has learned to tie his shoes, add and subtract, and read. In these skills, I have guided him. He was a chronic worrier when we met. We have cultivated the calm confidence he now demonstrates. His comment reminded me, though, that I have learned as much as I have taught. Many of our best teachers would make similar comments, I think. We learn as much as we teach.

Several days after his first wonderings, Sami told one of his friends he thought he would be a scientist. “I want to learn about everything in the world,” he said. “I know I can’t learn everything, but I think I can try.”

Sami’s comments were simple but full expressions of his faith and his curiosity. They were also an absolutely ordinary part of his dialogue with his world. As he was reading about frogs, Sami was thinking about God. He assumes God cares about his learning. Sami’s God pays attention to the desires of a child. For Sami, God is strong and nurturing, present and loving, involved in the work of his hands and the life of his mind.

“We then see in the humble ability to love, which we sometimes look upon as weakness, the true measure of maturity. The means by which the child influences us—the respectful and trusting love – will then be our great power in the educational sphere.” -Maria Montessori, God and the Child, 49

Ours is not a parochial school. Sami is Hindu. His classmates are Christian, Jewish, and Muslim. Maria Montessori was a devout Catholic. Her writings on faith quote liberally from the Bible. She refers to specific moments in the life of Christ. Yet, in the classrooms that bear her name and the mark of her genius, expressions of faith from children of different traditions are noteworthy only because they are so normal. Children offer glimpses of their souls as they polish, scrub, read, and calculate.

In the long months of winter, especially when daylight is scarce, conversations with children can be treasures. Even people of great faith struggle as demands to spend time and money challenge our capacity to give. December days sometimes feel spiritually empty and dark.

But most days a healthy child like Sami looks up from work he loves and shares his faith in a way that is both brilliant and, for him, absolutely ordinary. Montessori often reminded adults to cooperate with the normal patterns of human development.

She also believed that “spiritual education is nothing if not simple cooperation with the grace of God” (God and the Child, 36).

06 May

Creating Sanctuary

by Charlotte Kroger | Montessori Blog

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The Children’s House level of Montessori education stands alone in its provision of an incubated space and time for a child to cocoon himself in anticipation of a metamorphosis, an entirely new species of human being. While all levels of a Montessori school offer unique approaches to child development, it is in the Children’ s House that the focus is on individual work done in concentration in order to provide opportunity for the construction of the individual child personality. No- where in our culture is the 2 ½ to 6 year old afforded the opportunity to withdraw from the world at large and find refuge in solitary activity for which she has been prepared and engage in it for as long as she wishes.

Creating space and time for refuge from an over-whelming, busy and noisy world – a world full of bling, demands and chatter – is a possibility and a gift we can give our children in our homes. The pace of modern life is often stressful to families and to children. Providing moments to envelope oneself in silence and solitude teaches the child how to care for her own wellbeing. Here are three suggestions to consider for creating a space of sanctuary for your child. In each example there are shared characteristics:

Each space is created for contemplation, not conversation.
Each space is accessed the same way each time it is used, establishing a predictable ritual.
Each space is freely chosen by the child and never used as a form of discipline.
The child is shown exactly how to use the space and is expected to do so.

The Contemplative Chair:

Select a moveable adult size chair for yourself.
Provide and/or select a comfortable child’s chair that can be moved by the child independently.
Select a space near a window that faces the most attractive outdoor view possible.
Carry the adult chair to the selected space and quietly place it on the floor.
Show the child how to carry her chair safely to the chosen place and set it down quietly.
Show the child how to sit on the chair: body completely to the back of the chair, arms either resting on the arms of the chair or on the child’s lap, feet comfortably on the floor.
Tell the child that this is ‘a quiet time’. Show him how to look through the window and observe the view in silence.
Continue to demonstrate contemplative observation for several minutes. Quietly return your adult chair to storage.
Invite your child to quietly return his chair to storage.
Tell your child that he may sit and contemplate when he wishes.
On successive days quietly repeat the activity, emphasizing observing only.
Extend the amount of time observing incrementally each time.

Sky Gazing:

Observe for a clear night when the sky and stars are visible.
Select an appropriate time for this activity (perhaps following the child’s bath and nightly bedtime preparations that will allow for a short introductory period)
Dress according to weather dictates: a robe over pajamas on a cool night. Prepare an adult chair and a child size chair (preferably a chair that can be adjustable to reclining position) in an open space outside where there are no other distractions.
Show the child how to sit on her chair. If reclining is possible, help position the chair.
Show the child how to observe the sky quietly.
Remind the child that this is not a time for conversation but for observing.
Continue to observe for several minutes.
There may need to be time limits agreed upon since the time follows bath and precedes sleep (“Shall we observe for 5 minutes or 10 minutes?”)
At the allotted time gently observe that it is time to go inside and to bed.
On successive nights quietly repeat the activity, emphasizing observing only and agreeing on time limits.
This is partner observing because it is performed out of doors and is limited in time but is child-chosen as often as possible.

Drinking Water with Intention and Focus:

Select a quiet but attractive space in the kitchen for a place to drink water.
Provide a table of comfortable size for the child, a small bench or straight back chair, an attractive tray of natural material (metal, glass, bamboo), a pitcher of fresh cool water, a small glass, a sponge on a small tray and a small cloth for floor spills tucked into a small bucket. Lemon or lime wedges may also be provided on a small plate with a small pair of tongs.
Show the child how to pour water from the pitcher into the glass: grasp pitcher by handle and side with both hands, place lip of pitcher over mouth of upturned glass and slowly fill to ¾ full, being very careful to not let the pitcher and the glass come into contact. Do this with clear, concise movement. Replace pitcher on tray.
Place the glass of water on the table near the bench.
Show the child how to sit squarely on the bench or chair, feet on the floor.
Show how to grasp the glass with both hands and sip the water with attention.
Show how to sit quietly, observe the area and sip the water with intention until the glass is empty.
Return the glass to the tray.
Observe to see if there are any spills on the tray or table. Show how to wipe the spills up with the sponge.
Observe for spills on the floor. Show how to wipe up any spills by using the floor cloth. Refold and restore the cloth when finished.
Show the child how to fill the pitcher with water when needed.
Show how to place a small wedge of lemon or lime in the pitcher of water on another day when the child is proficient with the drinking system.
Have a selection of small pitchers and glasses to rotate so that interest is kept.

Providing small retreats from the busy world will allow your child the practice of meeting her needs and taking care of herself. You can probably think of other ways sanctuary and refuge can be provided for your child in your home.

04 Apr

Journey of a Montessori Parent

by Sveta Pais | Montessori Blog

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The very first article I read that sold me on Montessori did not have the word “Montessori” anywhere in it. Seven years ago, when our first child was at the cusp of transitioning from baby to toddler, my husband and I walked into a Prospective Parent class at a local Montessori school. Until that evening we had understood Montessori to be an alternative method of education worth investigating. We walked out with several handouts, one of which was written by the founder of the school, Donna Bryant Goertz, and titled “Owner’s Manual for a Child.” It is written from the point of view of a child in the first plane of development and begins with these words, “Dear Parent, I want to be like you. I want to be just like you, but I want to become like you in my own way, in my own time, and by my own efforts. I want to watch you and imitate you”. I still possess my copy from that evening: creased, tear-stained, and printed on green paper.

At the time of my initial reading of “Owner’s Manual for a Child,” I had just (barely) survived my first year of motherhood. After having overcome the challenges of a baby turning up a month before the due date engraved in our minds, nursing difficulties and postpartum depression, our family of three had slowly and painstakingly started to find its rhythm. Yet, there was a deep chasm. It was a void of not knowing exactly what we were supposed to “do” with our child. Nothing I saw or heard in the way parents around me were raising their children seemed to resonate. Their enthusiastic “Good job!” sounded hollow; their homes overstimulated me even at 30 years of age; their children meandered from toy to battery-operated toy without any sense of purpose or satisfaction.

As I read “Owner’s Manual for a Child,” I felt every muscle in my body slowly start to relax; I could hear the words in the voice of my own child; I could sense the clutter of all the parenting jargon I’d encountered melt away. Through the green sheets of paper was a child so simply informing her parents of what she needed for her own self-development. The void was now filled with a vision.

A few months ago I asked a fellow Montessori parent and photographer to take pictures of our home to accompany an interview for a Montessori blog. As Emmet photographed, he commented, “I can’t believe you were ever anything other than a Montessori mom.” The words struck me with great poignancy. What if we had not found Montessori? Would we have eventually found our way as a family, or would we have carried on with a sense of being adrift in a world rife with parenting how to’s? Certainly there were many families who had started off their Montessori journey at the same time as we did, but sooner or later acclimatized to a more mainstream family culture. Conversely, as we reap its benefits, our commitment to Montessori keeps growing.

As I pondered the reasons our family has thrived at being quintessentially “Montessori,” I realized I could sum them up with six main tenets.

My husband and I have been aligned in our desire to understand and adapt to a Montessori way of being. Our date nights have been attending a parent education class at school followed by dinner, where we discuss what we have just learned. In seven years I can honestly say we’ve been to the movies twice. Life is (hopefully) long but the child-rearing phase of life goes by in a flash. There will be a catching-up-on-fine-films phase, some day. “We are both so fortunate that within me I have a secret plan for my own way of being like you.”

We attended classes and practice using non-violent communication with each other and with our children. The models we use are Faber and Mazlish’s “How to Talk so Kids will Listen & Listen so Kids will Talk”, and Sandy Blackard’s “Say What You See”. Using this style of communication has been the biggest challenge in our parenting journey because it is so antithetical to our culture of origin. “Slow down when you speak. Let your words be few and wise.”

We discovered a style of parenting described as “authoritative.” I like to explain it as having firm boundaries, but with huge amounts of warmth. “Just get down to my level within a foot of my face, get my attention, and look into my eyes before you speak. Then let your words be few, firm, and respectful.”

We slowed life down. Way down. We have made the necessary adjustments to live on one income while our children are young. Young children move very slowly and we match their pace whether we are building legos, helping them get dressed, or involving them in getting dinner on the table. “I don’t want you to do it for me or rush me or feel sorry for me or praise me. Just be quiet and show me how to do it slowly, very slowly.”

We observe our children, and then adapt our home to match their needs. Our home is prepared in such a way that both our toddler and our eight-year-old can independently be fully contributing members of our family. Inside the house all the materials available to them are intentional and purposeful. The same holds true for the outdoors, to which our children have easy access. “Please take the pressure off both of us by creating my home environment so I can do my work of creating a human being and you can stick to your work of bringing one up.”

Our children’s access and exposure to screens is close to zero. “Owner’s Manual for a Child” was written before the advent of smartphones and tablet computers, but the same principles the author addresses hold true today. From our own experience of trying different things to see what works, we’ve found that screens take away from the richness of the real-life experiences we desire for our children. As I go about my daily life I see children in strollers on a beautiful day mesmerized by a phone but oblivious to the birds; at a concert staring at an iPad, eyes glossing over the instruments; enthralled by digital entertainment while foregoing the learning that will come from observing an older sibling’s gymnastics class. Such sightings, as well as other research, strengthens our resolve to protect our children from the desensitizing effects of technology. “TV makes me distracted, irritable, and uncooperative. The more I watch, the more I want to watch, so it creates issues between us. If you can’t say no to a daily TV viewing habit for me now, where is my example for developing the strength to say no to other bad habits later. Besides, the more I watch TV, the less I want to be like you.”

One may argue that these are just examples of a family culture that works for some, and has nothing to do with Montessori. But if you visit my children’s Montessori school you will see elements of every one of my six points in action. Consider, as an example, the greeting the children are received with at school. Each morning, every child is met with eye-contact, a firm handshake, and an authentic “Good morning.” Sometimes it takes a pause, and the adult gently saying, “May I see your eyes?” before the connection is made. It is in these interactions that I see all of our parenting at home being melded into school and creating a true partnership. How enriching and comforting for a child to experience consistency between school and home. How much more peace for the parent who glances at her child in the rear view mirror, walking into the environment where she spends most of her waking hours.

It would be remiss of me to leave the impression that our family life is smooth sailing a hundred percent of the time, because that is simply not true. On the days things are going awry I am tempted more than anyone to take the easy way out, and occasionally, I do. In many of those moments I recall the voices of my teachers, the ones who have worked tirelessly for decades so my children can have this Montessori life. I can hear Donna Bryant Goertz say, “There is pleasure, as well as pain, in the arduous path of worthy parenting.” I re-read “Owner’s Manual for a Child,” and these words are my greatest inspiration to pursue the arduous path: “I know my needs are great and many. I know I’m asking a lot of you, but you are all I’ve really got. I love you and I know you love me beyond reason or measure. If I can’t count on you, who can I count on?”

When it is all said and done, if we can’t give our own children our very best effort, who will?

02 Oct

Nurture and Nature

by Charlotte Kroger | Montessori Blog

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Outside my bedroom windows, along the back property line where my neighbor’s yard begins, I can see the four cherry laurel trees we planted a few years ago. Three of them are flourishing – getting tall and treelike – while the fourth is not doing so well. It is not as tall as the others and is skimpy in canopy. It’s not its fault. When we planted these trees we were not terribly discerning about the location. The gardener helping us said that the laurels should do well whether in sun or shade. So we planted them in an offset row across the back of our yard to serve as screening. We hadn’t taken into account the future growth of all the surrounding trees that now cast that part of the yard into deep shade, where the fourth laurel lives.

The trees came with ‘instructions’ – hidden potential with everything needed to become cherry laurels we could one day count on to screen the back of our property. But the environment in which they grow varied enough that one of four has not lived up to its potential of tree shading.

Nurture and Nature

The environment is nurture; the child in his raw form is nature. There is little or perhaps anything we can do to alter the child’s nature but there is everything we can do to provide the appropriate nurture that nature needs to reach potential and beyond through the environment we provide.

Maria Montessori was very clear about the importance of the environment young children need during the years of their Absorbent Minds and Sensitive Periods. She presented a clear blueprint for the role of the Prepared Environment and the role of the adult in that environment. According to Standing (“Maria Montessori: Her Life and Work”):

“If there is one feature more than another which should characterize the prepared environment it is order.”

“It is hardly too much to say that on the way in which the directress (adult) preserves the order in the prepared environment – or not – will largely depend the success or failure of her class.”

“What Montessori has done is this: realizing the peculiarly absorbent nature of the child’s mind, she has prepared for him a special environment; and, then, placing the child within it, has given him freedom to live in it, absorbing what he finds there.”

“If the teacher (adult) and the children all migrated to another room – leaving the prepared environment – these new relationships would vanish, and with them the inter-related function of the absorbent mind in the prepared environment.” (the Guide/Adult – Children- Environment triangle)

“In this environment only those things are allowed to be present which will assist development. Out of it must be kept anything that would act as an obstacle – not least a too interfering adult. Even such things as are neutral or irrelevant should be rigorously excluded. The constructive psychic energy granted by nature to the child for building up his personality is limited; therefore we must do everything we can to see that it is not scattered in activities of the wrong kind.”

It is clear – we work with the child nature through the nurturing environment – tirelessly and consistently through its upkeep and preparation. This is our role of love, and the environment reflects this love in its readiness (preparedness) to support the child nature. It is through the environment that the adult has any influence on the developing child nature.

Standing further states
“Practical Rules for the Teacher (or adult) in Relation to the Environment”:

Scrupulous care of the environment: keep it clean, tidy, spick and span.
Paint again, sew again, when necessary: beautify the house.
Teach the use of objects; and show the way to do the exercises of practical life (this must be done calmly and graciously and exactly, so that all the children will do the same).
Put the child in touch with the environment (active) and when this is achieved she becomes passive.
Observe the children continuously so that she may not fail to see who needs support.
Hasten when called.
Listen and respond to the child’s appeals.
Respect and not interrupt the worker.
Respect and never correct one who is making a mistake (“teach, teaching, not teach correcting”).
Respect one who is resting and watching the others work without disturbing him or obliging him to work . . .
But she must be tireless in offering subjects again to those who have already refused them; and in teaching those who have not yet learnt, and still make mistakes.
By her care and intent silence she must animate the environment: also by her gentle speech and presence – as one who loves.
She must make her presence felt by those who are seeking; and hide from those who have already found.
She becomes invisible to those who – having finished their work carried out by their own effort – are offering up their work as a spiritual thing.

Ours is one of service to the child nature through loving care of the environment in which he spends his day of development, day after day, be it in the home or in the school. This is the love we show the child – the respect and honor we afford the developing, creative nature and raw potential of the child. It is our partnership with him in this creative endeavor.

04 Aug

The Self-directed Child

by Jesse McCarthy | Montessori Blog

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“The fundamental basis of education must always remain that one must act for oneself. That is clear. One must act for him or herself.” –Maria Montessori

Early on as teacher, I experienced a dramatic demonstration of this “fundamental basis” while tutoring a unique young girl.

Rachel (I’ve changed her name for privacy) was brilliant in many ways, but also very disorganized. At 12, she would write college-level essays – and then lose the memory stick on which she had saved her work. At 13, she would masterly argue both sides of an historical debate – and then not be able to eat her lunch after class because, well, she forgot where she had put it.

When Rachel and I met for our brief daily “organizational tutoring,” I tried everything to change her destructive habits. We had sticky notes, we had planners, we had parent conferences, we had endless dialogues … we had everything. Yet nothing ever really worked. Until one afternoon.

School had just ended, and Rachel was trudging her way down the steps to our tutoring session, her backpack slightly open and precariously dangling off her shoulder, when next thing I knew the door to the tutoring room swung open wildly and there she was, disheveled, with books literally falling out of her hands. She glanced around the room and with triumphant dejection said, “I don’t know why we even have to do this!”

That’s when it hit me. Rachel had said “we:” “I don’t know why *we* even have to do this!” In an instant, the fatal error in my approach became clear. At the stage of development when adolescents genuinely crave and need a strong sense of independence and self-direction, this young girl had never truly owned her own organizational difficulties. *I* had been the driving force in her attempted improvement, while *she* had never even chosen to begin that process, let alone to direct it.

After a few moments of thinking to myself, “Oh boy! What do I do now??“ I looked at Rachel and said sincerely, “You don’t have to come to tutoring anymore. If you find that you want to work on organization (or on anything else), let me know and we’ll plan a schedule that makes sense for you.” And then I said goodbye. That was it.

I don’t recall whether it was a couple of days or weeks later, but not long after that difficult afternoon we began our tutoring back up. This time, however, *Rachel* initiated the sessions and *Rachel* chose the schedule (how many days a week we’d meet and for how long). After a few months of dedicated work, with the to-be-expected hiccup here and there, Rachel got herself organized – and proudly, glowingly so. And shortly thereafter, our organizational tutoring ended. She no longer needed it.

When I began teaching years ago, I had the view that I can change any child; overtime, however, through working with and alongside hundreds of unique students, I came to see that such a view is more accurately stated as any child can change himself. A subtle shift in phrasing, yet a fundamental distinction in pedagogy. This self-directed approach to education does not mean the teacher, the “guide,” is unnecessary. To the contrary, a thoughtful guide creates the content-rich, and often highly structured environment in which a child can thrive, but only through her own will. As Rachel’s story exemplifies – and as Maria Montessori spent her life both observing in children and demonstrating for adults – growth is impossible to achieve for another human being: “One must act for him or herself.”