community

12 Mar

All Day – All Year Montessori: A Living Community

by Michele Aspinall | Montessori Blog

I love Montessori. Not merely the materials and the way that they call to each child at different stages of development. I love Montessori as a way of living. I love the endless opportunities that a Montessori environment offers each child who enters it. I love the way that the small community that is created accepts every new child as if he was a long-lost family member reunited. I love that the “oldest” children in the environment not only teach the youngest; they mentor, nurture, adore, and protect them. So, why tack on a Before or After school Program at the beginning and end of a child’s school day? Is it truly to suit the child or is it simply easier for the adults to sustain? Throughout the years, I have become a bit of a crusader of All Day Montessori. I am an advocate of eliminating before and after school care in Montessori schools in order to encourage all of these wonderful things to continue to grow into something that resembles a living community: All Day and ideally All Year.

Every day for the last twenty years I have been fortunate enough to call two very special places “home”. I can say with confidence that the children who I share my professional space with today also see it as a home away from home. How can I be so sure? Well, if you were to ask me the same question within the first five years of this very unstable All Day, All Year program I would have likely cried and then said that I wasn’t sure of anything on any given day. If it weren’t for those first terribly unsettling years, I would not be able to say with confidence that children who stay at school for longer hours than a traditional school day, are best served in a Montessori classroom ALL DAY LONG. Their classroom. Their space. Isn’t that what we might call authentic Montessori?

There is a need for longer hours at school. There is no disputing that. Parents are workers and workers are parents, both out of necessity and preference. That’s in large part because many families in today’s economy rely on two incomes in order to pay the bills. The traditional primary class model is one that provides a school day from 8:30 am-3:00 pm. In order to meet the needs of parents and their demanding work schedules, many schools today offer before and after-school care. We (Countryside Montessori School) started, as many do, with a daycare set-up that was offered in the morning before the children went to their Montessori environments and then again after school when class ended. We offered 7:00 am drop- off, which included a light breakfast (cereal, toast, etc.). Also offered, was 12:00 pm lunch drop-in, which included lunch for children too young to stay for extended day. Finally, there was also an after-school option of 3:00 pm – 6:00 pm. This before/after care room could accommodate approximately 35 children at one time. It was available year-round, and only closed on major holidays. Parents could sign-up for any or all of those options – some even on a daily basis. It was named “Care Club”. When Care Club began almost 40 years ago, it contained no Montessori materials. The room was equipped with books, puzzles, blocks and traditional toys. I began directing Care Club when I joined the Countryside staff thirty years ago.

As many daycares can become, the program was essentially a revolving door for adults. The children could never really be sure of who was coming and going. Keeping ground rules consistent was unrealistic. Adults aside, the number of transitions in the children’s day was enough to make anyone feel muddled. Try to imagine every two to three hours being asked to pack up all your stuff and move to another room after you have finally settled in.

The day went a little bit like this for most children in Care Club: Having been pulled out of bed early in order to get to school on time, most days started badly for many children. After breakfast, they played with toys for a short time and then were asked to gather their belongings (again) and head to their Montessori class. After the morning class, all non-extended day children would come back to the day care room to have lunch and nap. After naps, the youngest children would play for a bit and at 3:00pm the extended day and elementary children enrolled in daycare would join us. The daycare room was located in the middle of the school so there would often be groups of children walking past the room to go home. For the daycare children, this was yet another reminder that they were different. Looking back, it is so clear why they weren’t interested in becoming connected to anything . . . they were simply waiting. Waiting for someone to tell them where to go next.

At the time, it seemed to make sense that the children needed “a break” in their day and the way to meet that need was to supply them with material that you’d find in their homes. Toys! As far as the toy selections in Care Club . . . well, they were endless. Subsequently, I felt that if I skimmed back and really focused on making good choices to place in the room, it would make a difference in the children’s behavior. I brought in toys and games that involved concentration and cooperation. However, it didn’t take long to figure out that it made little difference what kind of toy I put on the shelves . . . the children were equally abusive with each one. I’ll be honest with you, it didn’t feel right or even comfortable, but it was representative of how we often see children interact with each other in similar settings. Also, at this time I was not yet Montessori trained. It simply didn’t occur to me that it could be better.

There was something different about the day-care children, this was apparent. They were detached and uninspired with their daycare environment as well as their Montessori classrooms. In the daycare environment they bickered, damaged materials, they were careless and uninterested; in the classroom, they were only concerned with being with each other and waiting for Care Club to begin. What were the children trying to tell us? We continued to observe and explore, exhausting many possibilities along the way. We tried: adding more toys, limiting toys, adding service-oriented tasks for the All-Year elementary, and finally bringing in some practical life-type activities. After all of our best attempts failed, it was time to seek outside assistance. This day, I remember like no other. This is the day Carol Alver turned my world upside down . . . in a good way. I recall vividly when Carol and I sat down to talk about Care Club. I thought she would give me a few enlightening suggestions on how to make some minor tweaks to the program. This was not the case. In a nutshell, Carol said that it all had to go. The toys, the games, the “Day Care” environment had to go. She proposed that we create an All-Year Montessori environment with hours that would accommodate working parents, but most importantly provide the children with a place that they could call their own. I was rattled and fairly uncertain if I had a job the following day.

The school, however, was intrigued. We were not in the position to make the changes that were necessary to do it the right way. So I continued on, doing my best to offer the children an enriching Day Care environment. In the meantime, I also decided to embark on the AMI primary training. At the same time, our Head of School, Annette Kulle charged Wendy Calise, our Educational Director, with the responsibility of devising a daycare program that was pedagogically sound. She was specifically not to be influenced by the needs of parents; the realities of staffing; the space for such a program; the cost of such a program; or even whether we wanted to do such a program. While I kept myself busy with the training, Wendy was doing her own homework on how to make Carol’s idea work.

Two years later we took the plunge. These were the parameters that were devised for a new All-Year environment:

All children enrolled in AYM would be in one class. This would mean pulling the day care children from other primary classes and forming a new fourth class
The daycare hours would be shortened, taking a half an hour off each end of the day
There was no reason that children should not be in a Montessori environment all day long
Transitions needed to be limited
Three staff members for the All-year class were sufficient, one trained directress and two full-time assistants
In order for the All-Year Montessori teacher to not feel 2nd class – her number of days off would be the same as all other teachers in the school
The class size would be 30 – 35 children
AYM would need more space than a traditional class
The room would be designed so that no other children would need to pass through to go home
There would be a place (vestibule) for parents to wait when picking up their children
There would be a full kitchen
And finally, the program needed to be pedagogically sound

There was no doubt that these children were particularly sensitive to transition. Consequently, I made certain that there were few variations that occurred in their day. However, I really wanted to make their day seamless. Not an easy task with so many hours to consider. Also, there weren’t many successful models to follow. There seems to still remain many educators who feel that children need constant change to keep their interest. We had learned first hand in Care Club that it couldn’t be farther from the truth. So this is what I did . . . I observed. And then when I thought I had enough information, I observed some more. Through my observations, I had discovered countless shifts throughout the school day that were not only disruptive but robbed the children of the ownership that they needed in order to finally settle into THEIR class.

The All-Year class is almost 20 years old and in the best place it has ever been. Currently, the class consists of thirty-five children. We are open from 7:30 – 5:30m, 245 days a year. I continue to be the directress in the environment, and I have two assistant teachers. As previously mentioned, this place has become a home away from home for me and for hundreds of children over the years. As difficult as it was in the beginning to make the change, I can’t imagine working and living in any other environment.

When pondering the idea of Montessori all-day long it would be foolish to not reflect on the very first Children’s House. In 1906 Montessori worked with a group of sixty young children of working parents in the San Lorenzo district of Rome. It was there that she founded the first Casa, essentially what we now are calling All-Year Montessori. ‘There is a great sense of community within the Montessori classroom, where children of differing ages work together in an atmosphere of cooperation rather than competitiveness. There is respect for the environment and for the individuals within it, which comes through experience of freedom within the community.’ Dr. Maria Montessori (cited in Elizabeth Hainstock, 1986, p. 81 – The Essential Montessori). I am living in a community such as this every day. It allows the younger child to experience the daily incentive of older role models, who in turn flourish through the responsibility of leadership. This cycle is continuous, as those being mentored successively aspire to be the role model. Three to six-year-olds remaining in the same class ALL DAY innately eliminates all titles that the children naturally impose on each other. There are no morning children, extended day kids, or even “kindergarten” labels. They are all in it together . . . everyday. They are classmates. They are friends. They become a family. This environment also promotes the understanding that children not only learn ‘with’ each other but ‘from’ each other, minimizing the need for adult guidance and intervention. The peer teaching in an all year environment has limitless boundaries. The robust sense of community allows the children to become confident in their environment and in themselves, using the knowledge and skills they acquire to express their own ideas and creativity. It assists them in recognizing their value, to respect the creative process of others, and develop a willingness to share, regardless of the risks.

On any given morning, the delicious fragrances of cinnamon French toast, multi-grain waffles, banana pancakes or cheesy skillet scrambled eggs can be enjoyed throughout the halls of the school. As early as 7:30 am, parents escort children into a vestibule that leads into our AYM class. After good-byes are said at the entrance, the child walks independently into the classroom and the parent sets off to work. The child then tends to his belongings and walks into the kitchen area that is adjoining the class. At this time, he has the choice of either having the hot breakfast that is being prepared by his peers or beginning his day in the class. Once breakfast is made and all morning responsibilities have been fulfilled, the children sit to eat family-style. Some words of thanks for the bountiful meal are shared and then thirty-something children begin their feast. Conversation, laughter, and quiet reflection can all be observed during breakfast all year round. It is a perfect way to ease into a day.

As children finish up and breakfast comes to a close, there is more activity just beginning in the classroom. Children arriving after 8:00 am have already eaten breakfast at home and oftentimes are the ones preparing the class for readiness. In an All Day environment where we want the children to ultimately claim complete ownership, it is essential that they partake in the everyday class preparatory tasks that traditionally the adults are accustomed to completing. A variety of work can be observed in AYM anytime between 8:30 and 11:30; the traditional Montessori materials are in constant use as well as activities such as: baking snack for the class, tending to the garden, watercolor painting or cleaning an animal cage. By 10:30 am the children have already emptied the dishwasher twice. In addition, the laundry has been loaded, unloaded and folded for lunch preparation. In every corner of the room, real, purposeful activity can be observed. A living, working community.

Around 11:30 am a few children slowly begin to wash up and wander into the dining area once again to begin lunch set-up. At 11:45 there still may be a child finishing up a word with the moveable alphabet that he is anxious to get down on his rug before joining us for lunch. There is no hurry we have time. Preparation, eating, and clean up takes us close to an hour and a half. Mealtime is an opportunity for growth. Grace and Courtesy lessons have become as important to me as any other tangible material that can be found on the shelves of the classroom. These are life lessons. They are critical in order to maintain peace and harmony within a very extended day together.

After our second meal of the day, we retreat to our backyard. Most of the children in AYM are at school for ten hours a day. Outdoor play is a must, no matter what the weather brings. A few of the very youngest children who need an afternoon nap settle in shortly after some time outside. The oldest children are partnered up with the youngest to tuck them in, sing a song or rub their backs for comfort. When the others are ready to come in from outside, we gather for a few minutes to discuss the day or what’s to come in that particular week. We then begin our second three-hour work period of the day. This is commonly when I observe the most focused work, sometimes from the youngest in the class. It is not unusual to see a child completely engaged in his work at 5:00 pm. For the last hour, the All Year Elementary children typically go outside or to the gym for some large movement. A handful of the three to six year olds who need large movement join the elementary students. The primary children truly value their time with the elementary group. It is another wondrous occasion for peer teaching to take place on a different level.

I am still faced with some apprehension and a smidge of resistance when visiting schools who are considering an All Day model in replacement of their before and aftercare. The hesitance is typically coming from the staff, the teachers who will ultimately have to make the shift from a traditional school day. I get it. Change is hard. Most of us today live in places that lack community. Neighborhoods aren’t what they used to be. Parents and children aren’t home long enough to develop the kinds of relationships with their neighbors that we had long ago. That’s why it’s so crucial that we help to nurture and inspire the children who stay at school for longer hours to develop a community within our Montessori classrooms. Being involved in a community of friends is vital in the growth and development of our children. Community offers support, a sense of belonging, a strong sense of self and of connection. The children feel emotionally and physically safe and valued; they develop social abilities and have a sense of sharing and caring for each other. Let’s work together to continue to create and develop these All Day/All Year communities. Anything of real value is worth the struggle. The children certainly are.

21 Jul

A Gift from the Children

by Julia Clark | Montessori Blog

2 Comments

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.

16 May

Why Montessori?

by Jennifer Rogers | Montessori Blog

15 Comments

Preaching to the choir
A persuasive tone in speech and writing lends an urgent and important feeling to any topic. Then again, talking or writing persuasively about the benefits of a Montessori education before an audience of parents whose children are thriving in Montessori classrooms is a little silly. Parents who attend school meetings and read blog posts are among the best. They are typically people who are already thoughtfully engaged in education and parenting.

At every parent meeting, teachers look out into an audience of familiar faces. We notice that the same people also volunteer, ask honest questions in parent-teacher conferences, participate in fund-raisers, and arrive at school on time. We look for their faces in our audiences because the smiles are reassuring, and also because we know our words will make an immediate and lasting difference in the lives of their children. It’s a grand exchange, but asking “Why Montessori?” is a risk. Redundancy is boring, and smart people do not like to be bored.

My response to the “Why Montessori?” question is not detailed or exhaustive. It is a broad-strokes personal narrative, loaded with opinions formed in more than two decades of teaching. The arrangements of space, time, and people that I consider essential to an authentic Montessori education are not doctrinal. Others would answer the same question differently, but accurately.

I could easily add to the following list, but I could not take anything away.

Diversity
The youngest Montessori students gather information through observation and admiration of their older classmates. The oldest students are challenged and often transformed by urgent demands to help and guide their younger peers.

The failure of most public and private schools to incorporate diversity into the formation of classrooms and curriculums has been widely reported. It is an old and persistent problem. The segregation of ages and the standardization of curriculum is a lost opportunity. Standardization and segregation are huge limitations to academic achievement, and to the growth of human understanding.

There are children learning in Montessori classrooms from a kaleidoscopic array of ethnic, religious, and socio-economic backgrounds. They learn as much from each other as they do from formal lessons. Geographically isolated Montessori classrooms can be more homogenous than a school located in a diversely populated urban area, but every authentic Montessori school has a student population of mixed ages and abilities. Montessori students are not differentiated by age or intellect.

This diversity is, in my opinion, the single factor that has the most profound and lasting impact on the education of young children. Montessori students demonstrate how much we have to learn from each other as well as how much each of us has to offer our world.

Prepared Environment
Furniture in Montessori classrooms is the appropriate size for the children who will use it. This is also true of the tools, utensils, and materials they will hold in their hands. Pictures hang on the wall at the level of the students’ eyes. Every classroom is organized in such a way that the sequence of learning is materially present on the shelves and obvious to the children. The goals of independent decision-making and internal motivation are built into the carefully prepared environment.

Montessori classrooms are as different as the teachers who tend them, but they evince an attention to order and beauty rarely witnessed in education. Most are filled with light, plants, fresh flowers, and an ambiance of grace. Environments affect the quality of the experiences within them. The earliest memories of learning are, for Montessori students, forever associated with the warmth and peace of their first classrooms.

Purposeful Work
Maria Montessori was educated and trained as a physician. Throughout her long life, she remained fascinated with her observations of human health. The work she offered her students was always purposeful, and it always involved the coordinated work of mind and body. Montessori understood that a strong mind paired with strong hands led to optimum development of a child’s intelligence. This was true with her first students, and it remains true today.

Students in Montessori classrooms have daily opportunities to select their work. Children may repeat the tasks they select as often as they desire, until the task is mastered. Work chosen independently and repeated without interruption often leads to deep concentration. Montessori’s ability to cultivate and protect the concentration of young children through their purposeful work remains one of her most significant contributions to the education of young people.

Skilled Leadership
A traditionally structured classroom usually includes a teacher-directed curriculum. Time and space are marked and organized by the strong, clear voice of a teacher who is trained in an age group or an academic discipline, mathematics, for example, or four-year-olds, or music.

Montessori classrooms are active, creative, and adaptive communities. The teacher’s voice is seldom heard, and she frequently sits beside a child as he or she learns. It might seem that the hierarchical structure of a traditional classroom would require stronger leadership and stricter discipline. Actually, a healthy Montessori community requires a much more intelligent and intuitive style of leadership.

Montessori teachers must be skilled in the practice of observation and comfortable with the independent, purposeful movement of young minds at work. Nationally and internationally accredited Montessori teacher training courses are intense and demanding. This is as it should be. Montessori teachers should be experts in the abstract principles and concrete materials that structure the life of a classroom.

Silence
Visitors to Montessori classrooms first notice the beauty and order present throughout the environment. They also notice the quiet, especially if they are accustomed to teacher-directed systems of education. There are no bells prompting students to change activities or locations, no intercom, and no video or television instruction. Montessori teachers do gather the entire class for special events, singing, or shared story, but the voice of the teacher does not direct the movements of the children throughout the day.

In Montessori classrooms, there are occasions when the classroom is silent, when every child in the community is at work. More often, Montessori environments are characterized by the quiet hum of children at work, moving and talking together about subjects that demand their undivided, uninterrupted attention. In a contemporary culture heavily influenced by the interruptions of technology and the distractions of screens, this is a rare and precious gift.

Why Montessori?
If it were possible for a young child to answer “Why Montessori?” in a phrase or sentence that stretched beyond her limited frame of reference and her real gratitude for the fun she had a school that day, she would probably say, “I found myself!” Though their academic accomplishments are remarkable, the greatest achievements of Montessori students are far grander and more lasting.

Montessori students do have a confident, comfortable understanding of the academic concepts they will rely upon for the rest of their lives. They are academically strong not just for the short-term, but for a lifetime of learning. They also have a realistic understanding of their strengths, weaknesses, and talents. They can identify times and places when they should lead, as well as occasions when they should ask for help.

The experience of working in an intelligent community helps children understand both that there are some tasks we must do alone, and that we need each other to achieve our goals. Even our youngest students know how to reach inward and outward. The inner teacher of a healthy Montessori child is more reliable than any methodology or even the guidance of a talented teacher. Our students know how to work toward a goal, how to persevere when challenged, and how to connect in meaningful ways to the people in their home and school communities.

Why Montessori? Because a strong Montessori community is a group of people working together to help each person become the best version of him or herself. The gift of a Montessori classroom is that children begin their education with strong bodies and strong minds working alongside friends who know and love them almost as well as they know themselves.

05 May

Poetry in the Elementary Community

by Donna Bryant Goertz | Montessori Blog

5 Comments

Give the experience of listening to poetry by reciting poetry to the children. The guide selects short poems that he/she really enjoys from among adult poems, not children’s poems.

They listen to a particular poem the first time this month or semester. It is a short poem that the guide has thought about, listened to, and enjoyed. The guide has practiced alone saying the poem and has it memorized.

1. They close their eyes and listen again, this time for the sounds of the phrases.

They open their eyes and raise their hands to say which phrases were especially striking to their ear. “Which phrases make striking sounds, so that you want to hear them again?”

2. The children close their eyes and listen again for the phrases that make vivid pictures in their minds’ eye.

They open their eyes and raise their hands to say those phrases. “Which phrases make vivid pictures in your mind’s eye so that you wish to hear them again, to see those pictures again?”

3. They close their eyes again and listen for the ideas that are striking to their imaginations.

They open their eyes and put up their hands to tell about the ideas that strike their imagination. “Which phrases strike the imagination giving you interesting thoughts or ideas so that you want to hear them again to revisit those thoughts or ideas?”

The guide recites a different poem every day or so until the children have heard and considered ten or fifteen poems. These poems are printed on pages and left out on the shelf for the children to select from.

1. A child chooses poems to read as part of her work.

2. She gets help with pronunciation and word meaning.

3. She gets help with understanding concepts, ideas, or historical times.

4. The child goes outside to read the poem loudly across the garden to a partner.

5. The child goes to a mirror to see herself while reading the poem with full vocal and facial expression.

6. She sees how close she is to memorizing the poem and asks a partner to hold it and prompt her.

7. The child finishes memorizing the poem and tells the guide she is ready to recite it to the class.

8. The guide listens to the child recite the poem and offers suggestions for improvement.

9. The child improves the poem and schedules a time with the guide to recite the poem to the community, so that only one poem is presented by a child each day, and so that it is presented at a time that doesn’t interrupt one of the work cycles.

10. The guide leads the children in listening according to the three steps of listening above. This type of listening helps the children avoid applauding.

The child may decide to take the poem on tour to other communities.

1. The child schedules a time with her guide to leave the classroom to go around campus.

2. The guide practices with the child and her partner how to approach the gate, enter the gate, approach the door, open it quietly, close it softly, and stand and wait within to be seen by an adult.

3. The guide and child practice greeting a child who knows her in another community. This is done from a distance with a quiet smile and a discreet wave. If necessary the child puts one finger to her lips to indicate her desire to be greeted quietly and discreetly. If necessary she says, “Please wave to me quietly from your work space.” If children get up, come over, gather around her, the child leaves the room and returns to her own community.

4. The child and one partner, not two, take a clipboard, a schedule form, and a pencil to go around the campus and schedule a recitation with the other communities.

The children choose from among these poems which ones they’d like to polish for parent gatherings.

13 Oct

The White Dot Incident

by Charlotte Kroger | Montessori Blog

4 Comments

When he came to the community at three years old, he established himself right away as ‘individual’ and ‘decider’. The guide thought he was extraordinarily self-aware and self-defined, with a prodigious vocabulary and an adult-like presence. He had a head of blondish curls and a sprinkle of freckles across the bridge of his nose. He intense brown eyes peered out from his glasses with dark rims – somewhat the little professor in appearance. She liked him right away. She had long since found this “liking” to be the key to working with each and every child, regardless of the challenge she might find herself facing.

From that first day he decided he would pull up a chair near the room entry and wait for his mom. He would just sit and look, thank you, until she arrived for him. He did this for a good six weeks, only occasionally selecting a work. The guide continued presenting lessons to him, after which he would return to his chair and wait. At their first conference, the mother said, “Donny tells us he sits in a chair and waits for me to return.” This was actually more of a question of the incredulous type than a statement. The guide assured her this was true and explained that she had every confidence in his eventual acclimation to the community and was not terribly concerned. They reviewed together what lessons she had given him and what he currently worked on when he was ready to choose.

It was not long after this first conference that he decided to leave the chair and go to work. He was a quick learner and extremely bright and she discovered that he required lessons at a quick pace in order to keep in step with his inquisitive mind and electric energy. Lags of any length between new and interesting vistas to conquer left him restless, impulsive and agitated. She recognized that this child was going to be one of her great teachers.

Donny had a current of energy that ran through him like quicksilver and in most any other school setting, he would have probably been medicated or seen in some way as ‘special’. But she could see that fascinating work kept him enticed, focused and calm.

Making friends was not easy for Donny. His parents lived separately and he lived at either home within a schedule. Both were entirely dedicated to him, to his optimum development and, being intellectually stimulating people of many and varied interests, they reared him in this way. The Children’s House was his first experience of community with other children.

Donny thought differently than most of the other 3-6 year olds. He questioned everything and especially challenged procedural guidelines. When all of the children placed their empty lunchboxes along the ellipse in ‘next available space’ order, as was the classroom custom, Donny challenged them by placing his at the opposite end. The other children were shocked and not a little disturbed at this perceived impertinence and an energetic dialogue pursued. “Why can’t I put my lunchbox at the other end? It is an end too,” he theorized. “But it isn’t in next available order!” they replied. Their sense of order, so characteristic of children ages three to six, had been challenged. Eventually – she was never quite sure why; maybe his need for dissent had been met – Donny relocated his lunchbox to the next available spot and lunch convened. After lunch he could be heard challenging the rules of the game being played outside.

By now, the guide was familiar with Donny’s resistance to change and need to pull back and study the situation before possible commitment, so it did not surprise her when it came time for him to begin Extended Day that he refused to return to the room after the morning children left. No matter that he would be in the same room with the same guide and many of the same children – to him it meant change, a change he had not agreed to. He spent a week choosing to stay on the screened-in porch after noon transition, looking in at the others working. Any time she made eye contact with him and smiled, he shook his head and looked away. But when he had decided he was ready, he came in and went to work.

The beginning of his third year in the community revealed a boy now entering his third phase of life in the community, that of older child and mentor. He continued his stellar development in the intellectual work, reading at a very high level and well into the memorization work in the math operations. But he still enjoyed challenging the limits, often in impulsive acts that seemed to spring from him with a life of their own. Now that he was approaching elementary age with its characteristic Sensitive Periods for logic, reason and morality, she had private conversations with him about “impulses” and awareness of the effect of one’s actions on others. She wanted to help him understand that impulses can be both a good and helpful act, such as holding a door open for someone or picking up trash from the floor that someone dropped, or an act that could result in discomfort or even harm for someone. They practiced from time to time noticing impulsive acts observed in the community that were helpful to others.

One day there showed up at the classroom door not one set of parents, but two sets of parents to observe. The guide quickly made accommodations for all four and then continued her work at hand. As she settled into a work with a small group of children, she noticed that Donny was working diligently binding a math booklet, meticulously collecting the little circles of paper made by the hole- puncher into the small round container that accompanied this exercise. “Good”, she thought, and returned to her work.

“Stop, Donny!” the girl shouted and the guide turned in time to observe him emptying the full container of paper dots onto the head of a nearby girl. A swirl of snow drifted onto her head, shoulders, the table and the floor. And immediately, in his eyes, the guide saw Donny’s recognition of his impulsive act. She intuitively knew that he realized his wrong choice and stood in self-reproach. She knew how quickly any missteps on her part could cause this fragile moment to shatter into shards of defensive opposition. She thought to her self, “You almost made it through this impulse, Donny. Soon you will be able to make a better choice.” Slowly and deliberately she rose to her feet and walked the distance to where the two children were. She was very conscious of the parent observers, the other children and of her own desire to choose her actions and words carefully to best work through this challenge for Donny, for Jane and for the other children.

“Oh, Jane!” She exclaimed. “I am so sorry to have to ask this of you but would you kindly sit in your chair while Donny removes each of the paper dots from your hair, the table and the floor? I will fetch you some books to read while you wait.” She maintained a cheerful, matter-of-fact calmness with no trace of punitive judgment. This was simply her respect for Donny’s dignity and her support for his making things right again.

Returning with books in tow, she settled Jane and then, turning to Donny, asked him to bring the container of dots to her table when he had finished collecting them back into the container. She returned with calm focus to her group and resumed the work. For the remainder of the work period, Donny removed paper dots from Jane’s hair, picked up those that had fluttered elsewhere, and life resumed in the community. Children spontaneously brought different books to Jane to read. The following day she received notes from the parents expressing gratitude for having the opportunity to observe the interconnections of actions and consequences in the natural life of the community.

Donny transitioned at the end of his third year into early elementary class and he eventually left the school because of a family move.

One day some years later, while leaving a program at the school’s adolescent campus, she heard her name called. Looking in the direction of the call, she saw a woman and an adolescent boy. As they neared one another in greeting, she realized it was Donny and his mother. Before her stood a tall, charmingly poised boy still wearing the dark rim glasses and smiling warmly. They chatted a while, catching up on each other and then parted ways. She marveled at the transformation in the boy and hugged this to herself for a touchstone for all those little ones who would come her way in one state and emerge much later a new child. She made a mental note in reflection on the importance of Donny in her life – as one who taught her much about children and their dance of development. She wondered if he remembered the white dot incident.

06 Jan

A Resolution to Keep

by Jennifer Rogers | Montessori Blog

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Miss Green was a character. She achieved local fame the Halloween she arrived at school carrying a large, empty picture frame centered on her face. She was the perfect Mona Lisa. The same year it was her mission to promote observation. Miss Green cut a scarlet “O” out of felt, stitched a safety pin to the back of her letter, and gallivanted through classrooms, pinning teachers and administrators. Miss Green was loved for her spunk and for her mission.

Miss Green’s scarlet letter helped her peers remember that observation can be an exercise that pulls an adult to the edge of his seat. It can stretch the observer’s eyes wide open to a new vision for a child or for a community. To observe is to be determined, optimistic and faithful. The observer must garner her resources, resist the urge to move or talk or help. She accepts conflict, discomfort and frustration, and understands that all things observed at a moment in time are also part of an ongoing process. Something wonderful will be revealed.

We know these things are true, but it is mighty hard for adults to sit still. Adult attention spans are as limited as children’s. Our best teachers and parents prefer to stay busy, act responsibly, and help. We cannot quiet our inner dialogues, nor can we free our minds of opinions, memories, goals, judgments and good ideas, especially when we are observing children we know well. When a father looks at his sulking fourteen-year-old son, he remembers his toddler acts of defiance. When a teacher examines a space she has painstakingly prepared, it is difficult for her to notice the places where her environment is not meeting the needs of her children.

The importance of observation to the work of a Montessori teacher is well documented. It is an essential component of teacher training, as necessary as practice teaching, reading, and attendance at lectures. Every Montessori teacher leaves training with an understanding that observation should be a part of her daily work with children. Teachers encourage parents to observe because we know it will help them understand their children. Through observation, parents and teachers learn how to establish expectations that are healthy and attainable.

Children can and do change in remarkable ways. Observant adults do discover ways to aid the development of every child. Challenges morph as children age. Impediments to learning that young children reveal through their disruptive behavior become less obvious. Older children are much more adept at hiding their fears and failures. People who work with adolescents scrutinize posture, expressions, tone of voice and subtle social cues. Observing well as children age requires a lifetime of rehearsal.

There are occasions when an adult observes with the hope of aiding the development of children and is surprised by joy. She rises from her chair renewed by a glimpse or a fleeting moment that offered small window into her own soul. In those rare, precious moments of insight, the observer realizes that he is engaged in a quiet uprising against the disorder and confusion that is normal in our world. Observing with a balance of intelligence and compassion allows the adult to accept failure and frustration. Hope becomes a firm foundation. The observer believes, she knows, that in very small but magnificent ways her commitment to observe is making the world a better place.

Simone Weil said that absolute, unmixed attention is a form of prayer. Weil was a Jewish mystic, a French philosopher who was radically committed to social justice. Her words endure because they transcend religious denomination, politics and profession. Music, poetry, great works of art, and the type of teaching that alters the course of human history depend upon absolute attention. Observing without interruption or distraction can redeem. Miracles sparked by observation are not always apparent, though sometimes they are, and they do continue to occur. Change may be fleeting, relief may be temporary, but observation will always transform and renew lives in a way that is much like prayer.

Maria Montessori was a physician, a Catholic and an educational reformer. Her work with disabled and impoverished children began in observation. Observation is the single thread connecting the many phases in her long career. Though they never met, Montessori and Weil’s lives and thoughts overlapped in many ways. Both women believed in the power of observation. Both women worked tirelessly for the underprivileged. Both women longed for peace.

There are adults who remember the first time they observed Montessori children at work. In ways they may not have been able to articulate, they understood that the children were inspired and engaged in activities with a passion seldom witnessed in other environments. Strong Montessori classrooms are abuzz with the purposeful, self-directed movement of children who are already firmly grounded in the respect and determination that sometimes flowers into perfect peace. Some of these adults speak of their first observations in terms usually reserved for conversion experiences. Sitting in the observer’s chair, quietly watching, we decided to alter the course of our lives.

Many of the same adults would freely admit their daily routines no longer include observation. The demands of home and family and school are too great. The burden of responsibility silences the quiet inner voice that continues to urgently whisper, “observe!” Teaching and parenting becomes a slap-dash combination of family and classroom management, and crisis intervention. Weeks or months pass before an exhausted parent or teacher stumbles into the observer’s chair.

Adults who are attracted to Montessori as parents and as educators are usually educated, knowledgeable, people who want the best for our children. Without observation, unobserved Montessori children will continue to grow; healthy children do. Parents and teachers who rarely observe will nonetheless notice improvement and maturity. Without observation the quality of time and the strength of the relationships we share with children will not be a good as they might have been if we had observed more often.

18 Dec

A Parent’s Role: How it Differs from That of a Guide

by Donna Bryant Goertz | Montessori Blog

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At Home

Since leaving the classroom recently, after thirty-some years in the delightful company of children, I have spent a considerable portion of my time leading the development of the parent education programs for our school. It has given me a new and different joy, and a great appreciation for parents. It is an honor to work so closely with parents who are the primary educators of our children, who are the children’s models, their supporters, and their greatest source of love and admiration.

I hold the parents in awe and respect them for many reasons and on many levels. They pick up their children at noon, three o’clock, or the end of the day when everyone is tired and hungry and needy; and do their best to practice the skills that will help this major transition go well while neither catering to nor imposing on their children. Parents deserve support and sympathy, respect and solidarity for their efforts. They get up in the night with children who are frightened or sick, doing their best to give just the right comfort. They get children up in the morning who are sleepy or out of sorts. They connect with temperaments that are either too different from or too much like their own. Parents face an onslaught of issues that confound and concern them and do their best make the best moment by moment responses they can.

Parents have the truly world-shaking responsibility of providing an ethical framework, a moral ambiance, and a practical environment that provides for exploration, self-education, and self-development for their children. All this they must provide in an emotionally safe environment and in a firm and cheerful manner.

Unlike the guides at school, the parent lives with a child who changes over a twenty-four year period of time, and changes almost too fast to keep up with. A guide at school gets to practice and perfect supporting children in the same three-year developmental period endlessly. That’s why their advice can be so helpful. It’s almost as if a parent spends today trying to figure out yesterday while the child has gone on to tomorrow. It’s a challenge. And it just speeds up; it simply won’t slow down. That’s why parents need the school’s and the guide’s help and advice.

At School

It’s easy for the guides to say “NO” at school. There’s a large community of children living and learning in an established, clearly defined and cohesively developed culture where everyone belongs and participates. The “NO” is expected and accepted by the community of children. At home, the child is a bigger presence and a much stronger force within a changing and developing family culture. And the emotional connection between parent and child can be both mobilizing and paralyzing. Is it any wonder that the parents need a supportive community to help them decide when and why and how to say “NO” and how and why to stick to it? Is it any wonder that they turn to the school and the guides for help to clarify and sort out issues before they make their decisions?

At school, the guide has been confronted with a vast variety of situations, issues, and personalities over many years. The guide knows how to postpone answering questions to buy time to think through the implications, how to consider each aspect of the issue and weigh the implications and how to slowly consider situations and their consequences. The guide has learned through a goodly number of errors! Additionally, the guide knows how to approach a great variety child personalities and temperaments as well as how to bear up graciously and effectively under their responses—or reactions. For the parent at home, however, it’s always an unending series of “learn as you go” and “learn through your mistakes.”

The Family and the School

And then there’s the family’s entry into the school community. Often, a parent’s life is temporarily made further complicated before it is made easier by the school’s philosophy of child development and parent education programs. At first it may seem that the school is taking away from the parents all their familiar methods and means of traditional parenting and leaving them bereft. Then it seems the school is offering an entirely new set of skills, a suspect set of skills that have to be practiced with a mindfulness and constant awareness in order to become effective. Confusion can often reign in the family as parents work to break old habits and make new ones. In the midst of this confusion, anarchy could set in. The parents, temporarily weakened by the changes they are making, can become paralyzed into inaction or rushed into poorly understood practices. In the meantime, the children could take over, resulting in anxiety, insecurity, and bravado.

During this period of confusion, parents might offer their children choices that are not appropriate or even counterproductive. They might give them independence for which they have not adequately prepared their child. Parents could operate out of doubt and fear. Trusting the Montessori community of families too far, parents might allow their children to do things they should not be doing simply because they say other children are doing them or because some other children really are doing them. Parents are sometimes afraid their children will stop loving them if they say “No.” They may be afraid their children won’t be popular or well liked. Parents may be intimidated by their children’s anger or frightened by their outbursts.

Without a strong community, enough contact, and without dependable support from the guides, parents can easily get in over their heads while their children are very young and by the time they reach early adolescence the family’s daily lives may have become problematic. By the time the child is sixteen and in possession of car keys, their lives can become out of control and dangerous.

Support For Knowing How and When to Say “No,” How and Why to Mean It

When we parents learn to say “No” to a five year-old, we will be more likely to be able to say “No” effectively and appropriately to a nine or a thirteen year-old. When we parents develop and sustain a meaningful family culture within which to live and according to which to weigh and measure details of daily living when the child is four, we will be more likely to do sustain it through later years. A part of saying “No” is learning positive ways of saying it. Another part of saying “No” is establishing and maintaining a relationship with distinct and appropriate roles for parent and child.

Distinct and Appropriate Roles for the Parent and the Child

I am the Parent, You are the Child

It is not always easy for Montessori parents to distinguish and clarify their own roles as parents from those of their empowered, independent, and capable Montessori children. One child stunned his mother by telling her to step away into the next room until she was ready to calm down and cooperate with what he was asking of her. The mother was being calm—and she was being reasonable, and what she was asking was appropriate within her role and appropriate within the child’s role, reasonable for his cooperation.

Of course, our empowered, independent, and capable Montessori children are going to try stepping out of their roles as children and into our role as parent, of course! And we parents have to be well prepared to be clear about defining those distinct roles. We have to clarify to the child what exactly our role is and where exactly the limits of his own role of child lie.

As for the confused mother in our story, the rest of the day didn’t go so well. The next day, after much thought and a good nights sleep, however, she was ready to distinguish the two roles, that of parent and that of child. The mother chose a pleasant moment for a conversation, the first of many she would have with her child over the years.

Defining and Clarifying Roles

She said, “We have something important to talk about. I’m going to tell you about roles, your role as the child and my role as the parent. It’s my role as the parent to decide when there will be a choice and to lay out the choices. It’s your role as the child to choose among them. I will always consult you about the choices because there could be some good choices that I haven’t thought of.”

“Sometimes there will be no choice, and your role will be to accept that.”

“I will lay out the choices for the daily schedule, for what to wear to which places. I will always listen to your ideas. That’s a parent’s role. You tell me any ideas I haven’t thought of. That’s a child’s role. And I will be the one to make the decision to include those ideas or not.”

“When I listen to your ideas, I will hear them when you can speak in a respectful tone of voice using respectful words. I will listen to anything you have to say and hear all your feelings. But I will make the final decisions about what we do in our family because that’s a parent’s role.”

This same conversation was repeated many times in many quiet and pleasant conversations over the next months. “I will lay out the choices for what to eat,

“ . . . Choices for what toys and activities we will have in our home.”

“ . . . Choices for which books and materials will be in our home.”

“ . . . Choices for where we will go.”

“ . . . Choices for who we will spend time with.”

“ . . . Choices for what kind of birthday party we will have.”

“You will suggest additional choices and lay out the reasons for them to be included. That is within your role as a child.

“I will listen to your suggested choices carefully, think seriously about each one and decide whether or not to include it. I will tell you why or why not and explain my decision fully according to our family culture.”

And so over the months the parent made clear the distinction between the roles of parent and child including many, many other things. In this way the parent let the child know who was responsible for forming the family culture and who was responsible for living creatively within it with choices and limits, with expression of ideas and feelings.

The explanation was given for each new choice the child suggested, but once that was done, it was not repeated. “You know why; remember, I explained it to you. Think it over yourself and remember. If I ever think differently, I’ll let you know. If I don’t come to you about it, you will know my decision and its reasoning stand firm. I hear that you don’t agree, but till then, that’s it! No more discussion.”

Collaborating with One Another to Discover Mutually Acceptable Solutions

The parent noticed a growing pattern of rudeness in the child’s requests. The child seemed edgy and bossy. “Take me home right now.” “Find my blue hat.” “I’m thirsty. Get me some apple juice.” “Take me to the park to play right this minute.” “These eggs are yukky.”

As usual, the parent made suggestions each time for more considerate, polite communication, such as, “I like it when you say ‘Excuse me, but I’m really tired. Could we go home, please?’” Or, the parent said, “I prefer to hear ‘Could you help me find my blue hat?’” Or ‘Could I please serve myself some apple juice?’ Or ‘I don’t care for these eggs. They’re not to my taste.’ Or ‘Could we leave for the park to play really soon? When I wait so long, I feel impatient.’ Instead of bringing the usual cooperative restatement, the parent’s suggestions brought on balkiness and irritation.

At a pleasant moment the parent said, “Sometimes you use a tone of voice that sounds unpleasant or words that seem abrupt when you ask me for something. I feel better helping you out when you are more polite and considerate in your tone of voice and words. But I notice that it annoys you when I remind you to say it in a nicer way. I thought we could plan together a way I could remind you that wouldn’t be irritating. Maybe I could just say two words like blue bird or a compound work such as grasshopper or something like that to remind you. What do you think about that? Can you think of a word or phrase you like us to use?”

The child chuckled and said he liked the phrase dump truck better.

“Oh, dump truck, I like that,” the parent said. “And if you don’t like my tone of voice or the words I use, you can say dump truck to me and I’ll know to say it over in a more pleasant tone of voice and nicer words.”

The child was delighted and offered other ideas. Parent and child settled on a phrase and for a couple of weeks things went really well. One day the child was testy again and the parent asked if it was time to choose a new phrase. They settled on a new one and the next weeks went well. After the third variation the habit of politeness or of accepting a reminder with civility was well established. Of course, at that point in time, the child was on to a new issue. As every parent has experienced, life with a child brings on a new issue as soon as the previous one has been resolved. And so life goes with the parent and child.

Waiting for Calmness and Respect

At another time, things had gone off track in a different way: the child began displaying emotional outbursts. The parent thought things through and chose a pleasant moment for another conversation with her child to further clarify.

“If you are screaming or being rude I will say with sincere sympathy, ‘I hear how upset you are and I want to listen to you. I want to hear your feelings. As soon as you can speak in a regular voice and use respectful words, I will be ready to listen.’ Then I will leave a glass of water and a tissue close by and wait at a little distance for you to calm yourself enough to talk. Until then, I’ll be waiting in the next room to comfort you when you are ready to receive comfort.”

Listening as Soon as Possible

Experiencing complications of a different sort, further down the road, the parent offered new information.

“Occasionally, I will have to listen a little later because there is a reason I can’t give you my full attention at that particular moment. It could happen because I’m in the middle of cooking dinner or because I’m driving the car. But, in order to make things easier, I will make and take most phone calls at night after you’re asleep so I’ll be available to you most of the time. In any case, I will always listen as soon as I can. That is the parent’s role, my role. Your role is to wait until I can really listen. I’ll always tell you a time that I can listen and you can depend on me to keep my word.”

Defining and Maintaining the Family Culture

As the child grew older, s/he encountered new and different ideas from friends or neighbors and began to mount campaigns for incorporating them into his own life, the parent gave further information.

“The older you get, the more new ideas you will have. Many of your new ideas will fit right into our family culture. We’ll have to work on others of your new ideas to make them fit into our family or perhaps even tailor a bit or a lot to make them fit. But there will be many other ideas that won’t fit into our family at all. You will have many friends who are allowed to do and to have things that we don’t do or have in our family. I will listen to how you feel about that. But I will be the one who decides because that is the role of the parent.

“I will spend time thinking about and discussing my decisions with our school community before I decide, but then I will be the one to make the decision. It won’t be up to you because you are the child. You may be upset, sad, disappointed, or angry about my decisions, but I will stick to them because I am the parent and that’s my responsibility. Maybe you will want to go someplace that we don’t go in our family. You might want to have a toy or gadget we don’t have in our home. You may want to have music or wear clothes that don’t fit in to our family.

It could be very disappointing or upsetting to you. I will hear your feelings about it. I will hear your ideas. But the decision will be mine to make because that’s a parent’s role. Your role will be to experience feelings of anger, disappointment, or sadness, to express them to me strongly but appropriately, and then to respect my decision. You don’t have to like or agree with my decision, but you do have to respect it.”

Providing the Child Security and Sparing the Child Emotional Exhaustion

When the child spends time and energy in emotionally exhausting opposition, the parent carefully evaluates his/her communication and behavior for clarity and resolve. It is unusual for a child to persist in behavioral campaigns that don’t work. It indicates a lack of clarity in the parents thinking and presentation or a lack of evident resolve.

“I will try to be clear about what your choices are and about which of your suggestions will be added to the choices and which will not. I will try not to be wishy-washy or vague by saying ‘I don’t think so’ or ‘I’d rather you not’ or ‘I’d rather you choose something I already offered to you or I wish you’d choose something else.’ I will try my best to keep you from the anxiety that comes when I give in or change my mind after a decision. I will remain steadfast when you display emotional outbursts or whine or threaten. I will make every effort to give you the security of knowing that your parent means what s/he says.”

“I will be the strong parent you need and spare you the emotional turmoil and energy drain of excessive begging, tantrumming, whining, and pouting that develop when you know from experience you might be able to change my mind or wear me down that way.”

The On-going Process

And so it goes with the parent. Defining, maintaining, and clarifying the distinct roles of parent and child takes time and effort. But that’s a parent’s role. We are parents, we are bringing up children, unlike dogs or cats, birds or fish. And children are highly intelligent, powerful, driven beings who require that we provide and maintain an ever-evolving structure to hold a social and family culture with firm limits for them to push against. Children need their parents to define clear roles of parent and child within the family for the sake of their emotional growth and security. We, their parents, are the last ones, the last adults in their lives, who should grow weary and let them down. We can rest when our children are grown.

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