From Calm to Chaos in 10 Seconds

My plan for the next few weeks has been to toss up some photos from time to time, as I've been buried in work. I've finished a study, analyzed results, and am attempting to write it all up in a somewhat cohesive way. Easier said than done! But today, our classroom was so hilarious, that I just had to write a few words about it. 

For the last couple of years, our children have been so normalized that the work cycle has been a breeze. We have felt that we could invite literally any observer, without trepidation, as the children know the ropes so well that they are a model Montessori group. We've actually gotten almost cocky about this notion. Ha! How we had forgotten that the equilibrium in the Montessori environment, that bubble, that work-full hum, can just pop and all heck can break loose. Today we were reminded...

A few weeks ago, we moved a little one into our group. She is two, full of gusto and determination, and already adored by all the other children. I have to mention her name because it adds to the aura of our calamities this morning. Her name is "Jurnee," however, a number of the other young children believe her name to be, "Germy." This is because, as you may have noticed if you are an educator of young ones, children have built a certain glossary of terms that they know in their minds by around age three; if something sounds similar, they always use their known word instead of the new one. That's why we have "metal insects," and "allergy eater fish," and the "Vampire State Building." (By the way, I would love to hear your favorite children's derivations of the english language - send to me in comments and I will post!) So...this morning as soon as I arrived, I felt the children's energy. They were a bit frenetic. There is so much going on around our school, as parents are preparing for our annual Italian Dinner/Raffle Fundraiser. Parents are lingering at school, discussing details, hurrying to complete projects, and the children feel it.  So far, little Jurnee has hardly caused a ripple in our classroom, and is quite focused and loves to work. But this week, in our studio, real canvases have been placed about, with many colors of acrylic paint for the oldest children. Every year they create one masterpiece each to be auctioned at our fundraiser. Jurnee has been quite unable to leave the paint alone. So my cooperating teacher, who is extremely skilled and well-trained, suggested we put some shaving cream out for Jurnee to finger paint in. I agreed that this was a fine idea, and she occupied herself for a time. Then she discovered that if she clapped her hands together hard, shaving cream flew about wildly and landed on all of her friends who were working at adjacent tables! The working children let out shrieks as the cream flew onto them. This delighted Jurnee! Our little boy who has sensory issues was standing near the scene of the crime. He had a look of pure horror on his face. Jurnee saw this and loved it. She jumped up with her hands loaded with shaving cream, and proceeded to move toward the little boy with her hands raised ala monster. This little boy who has an aversion to anything making contact with his person or his clothing, began to run, howling, "Noooo Germy, No!" Jurnee, giggling wildly, set chase. Mind you, this was happening over a few seconds, but the effect was stunning. Order dissolved. Chaos ensued. They made a loop around the room, and the next thing I knew the little boy had thrown himself through the air and was climbing me as if I was a tree! He made it to the top and held his knees up tightly, and Jurnee was apprehended by Miss Heather. Did I mention that our classroom dog was in pursuit, running after the two? When all of the children and teachers finally closed our mouths, I got the giggles. After my climber was assured that the little anarchist would not put shaving cream on him, I unglued him from me, and he slid down and sat on my shoe. As he walked away, I noticed a big blob of green paint on his bum. I looked down at my shoe and saw this...

Our dog, Sputnik, has green paws as well... No idea about the origin of the blob of green paint, but there was a commotion of floor scrubbing that followed. Now just what would a person think, who happened to drop in, during that two minutes? That Montessori! What a free-for-all!

THE RINGLEADER

A young man, who had no Montessori training, once shared his experience with subbing at a Montessori school. He said some children worked, while another group got out all the food from practical life, prepared a feast, then strapped paper plates to their feet and skated about the room. I remember being amazed that this could happen, and felt bad that it was his first experience with Montessori. Today, as I thought of his tale, I laughed all over again at his descriptions and my images of his day in the prepared environment. It works beautifully, almost all of the time, if adults are well-trained. But, as I was reminded today: We still have to be "prepared" for anything! Just keep your cool and never let them see you sweat.

SOME LOVELY OUTDOOR SPRING PLAY AND WORK

"Teacher...You Look So..."

"Teeee-churrr." A round-faced boy with gleaming eyes is gradually, but steadily moving into my personal space. I am sitting cross-legged on the story rug getting ready to lead a circle time. Although I have repeated this process, by my estimation, about 8,000 times in the last 31 years, each day with children is different and remarkable to me in some way. This is just one of the pleasures of being in a Montessori classroom. One cannot predict what is going to happen each day, but one can be certain that the children are going to make their own discoveries again and again, and that the thrill associated with their sense of wonder is utterly infectious.  I am privileged to have been an observer of this phenomenon, and to soak up some of this pure joy from the  exuberance of the young child who is experiencing the "prepared environment" of the Montessori classroom. Now we have talked about and demonstrated personal space many times during our grace and courtesy lessons, or when assisting with a conflict between children. But this boy is not thinking about this social courtesy. His eyes are wide as he zooms in closer, and closer, obviously examining my face with that x-ray vision that only the young possess. Then he is just about two inches from my face, and I can smell his little graham cracker breath. I hold my own breath out of habit, as I am aware that a child's olfactory sense is so acute.  I remember being offended as a child when my teachers had that sour breath or coffee breath. He breaks the silence and says it again, quite slowly. "Teeee-churrr. Your eyes. They have CRACKS!" This made me laugh - hard. And I knew that he wanted to know why I had crow's feet, and I needed a short answer so that the children who were coming to circle didn't split apart like little neutrons blasting about in a million directions. So I gave him the boring answer, "Yes, I do have cracks, you are right. People get lines in their skin as they get older." I knew very well that this explanation did not satisfy him one bit, but I went on to lead the children in song. "This is a song called "The Snowman. The composer is still living and his name is Mr. Sanford Jones." I asked a child to put the photo of Mr. Jones upon our composer frame. "He lives in North America, in the United States of America, in the state of Georgia, in the city of Savannah." (As I say these words, children are chosen to bring the map pieces of the continent, the country, etc.) My inquisitive boy is still sitting in front of me, and I can tell he has zero interest in Mr. Jones or the song. He is pondering my weathered and rapidly decaying body. He starts to talk, and I hold up one finger. He knows this means, "Wait," and he contains himself while we sing. Soon it is time to go outside and children are called to dress for the playground. But my boy is glued to the rug right in front of me. And then as if we were still in mid-conversation, he said, "But teacher, (He often forgets my name,) my mommy does not have any cracks and I do not have any cracks." "Well," I said, "Your mommy is quite young and has beautiful smooth skin, and you have only been in the world for four years, so your face has no wrinkles. But guess what?" "What?," he said, trouble clouding his face. "You have some lines already." He looked surprised but doubtful. "Turn your hands over dear and I will show you." He turned his hands over and examined his palms, his face erupted into a beautiful smile, and then he jumped up and ran for his coat, hollering, "I have CRACKS, I have CRACKS!" I have noticed over the last few weeks, my friend makes his way to the low children's mirror in the classroom and scrutinizes his own face very carefully. And last word about this bright, inquisitive boy...One morning I came into school wearing my long hair down. (I usually wear an up-do.) He hurried over and blurted, "Ohhhhh teacher - you, you look...so very...O L D!" I do think he meant to compliment me, and that in his excitement, he could not retrieve the word "young." Let's just think that...

MY YOUNG FRIEND WHO WORRIES ABOUT MY AGE

This interaction took place at the beginning of this year's term, and it's not the first time I've been shown that the children think I am ancient. A real wake up call was the time I was wearing a short-sleeved shirt and felt someone feeling my elbow skin. I looked down to see a young boy "twiddling" the loose skin of my elbow. He had a far-away look in his eyes, and I'll never be sure if he was just self-soothing or if he was thinking, "Gosh, this old woman has one foot in the grave." Knowing this particular boy very well, I think I'm correct in thinking the latter. I AM older now, and do not know how much longer I will physically be able to work with young children. And the sad part is, I am WISER and better in the classroom than I was at age thirty. Isn't that the way it goes?

METAMORPHOSIS MONTESSORI SCHOOL...A little red schoolhouse

We garden year round at our school. 

"The land is where our roots are. The children must be taught to feel and live in harmony with the Earth." - Dr. Maria Montessori

The Montessori method of education is scientific and complex. It is also exquisitely beautiful and simple in a number of ways as well, once you understand it. Learning the intricacies of this visionary woman's miraculous technique is not easy. When I took my exams for certification, there were women with law degrees and other impressive credentials with their heads on the table. They were weeping. They did not think they could pass the examinations. And I was right there with them, in fact, I called my mentor, and she had to talk me down because I was going to bail. She gave me an extremely stern pep talk and told me to march my fanny in there and "knock 'em dead."  And I did it. Later she shared that her mentor had given her the exact pep talk when she was too frightened to take her exams. I once heard an instructor, Jeff Kaiser, share this anecdote at a workshop. He said that a friend of his said to him, "What's the big deal? It's just preschool. It's not rocket science." Jeff responded, "No it's not rocket science. It's a lot more complicated than that." Indeed it is. Dr. Montessori did not just discover, through her emperical observations and experiments, a comprehensive method of education. She discovered the child.


Now I can hardly believe that I have been learning, practicing, and marveling at this educational system for three decades. For the last few years, I have felt compelled to write about my Montessori life, what I have learned about the woman, the method, and the child. At the same time, I was reticent, perhaps afraid to begin. It means so much to me - almost too much. Am I capable and competent enough to do justice to the woman who made it possible for me to have such a special life? A Montessori Life? I think I'm old enough! I'm marching in.