"Valen-time"

We have a tradition of celebrating every major holiday at our school, but after going with the flow of our culture for the first few years, we learned to tone down our celebrations. Montessori noted that sometimes "parents abandon children to the culture." Teachers and other adults do as well. However, even with her astute insight, surely she couldn't have forseen the over-the-top direction our culture would take - with just about everything. And it's easy, as a parent to just give in and say to oneself, "Everybody else is doing it." I've written a study regarding this subject, and have plenty to say about it, but it will take a series of posts. Today I'd rather share our most recent celebration...Valentine's Day.

Each year, close to the beginning of school, I like to start introducing the concept of celebrations. I read books from various cultures, we look at photos of people celebrating, and we talk about the components of a celebration. The children love knowing that there are some consistent traditions that humans from all over the world incorporate into their celebrations. We like to talk about this and list them again and again. We say, "We celebrate with clothing. We celebrate with food. We celebrate with decoration and art. (environment, face-makeup, cards, etc.) We celebrate with music. We celebrate with dance. We celebrate with fire." The children love this and actually begin to notice these different aspects of celebrating within the school community and within their outer community. To me, it is crucial that children get these kinds of lessons about the lives we are living. Otherwise, things are just thrown at them out of context, becoming just another thing to be whizzed through, thrown away and forgotten. On to bigger, better, louder, more expensive, and on and on. It's all dizzying to children and adults alike. I believe that this is a contributor to the rise in childhood depression that we are witnessing. They've seen it all and done it all by the time they are ten! What's left? So, instead of over-doing our celebrations, we make them truly special events that have meaning for the children. And that brings me to valentines.

It's taken a number of years to get all parents on board, but for the last several years we have had a commercial valentine-free celebration. We have included instructions in the parent handbook, and send home a reminder sheet weeks ahead of time. And voila! No store bought valentines come to school. Dr. Montessori said, "Of all things, love is the most important." I personally do not believe that buying a pack of Spiderman cards at the grocery the night before is teaching a child to love others. Love involves thought, and doing for others, and yes, a little work. So we insist that each child make the valentines. We also let our families know that parents are not to make them for the child. Assist? Absolutely. So we get great outcomes, including time together well spent, talking and laughing and making a mess and cleaning it up, and so on. Hopefully they start the project weeks early, but if they do it all the night before, a lesson is learned there too. It is the process, not the product that we are encouraging. And oh how the children love this! For weeks we've had various heart cutting materials on the shelf, along with gluing shapes, and fancier ideas for older children. Now they can set to work with an idea of what they are trying to accomplish. The day before the big day, we all take turns painting our mail sacks. Everyone is happy and excited. But the most astonishing thing to me is that on Valentine's Day itself, the children work throughout the morning as usual. They are not overly hyped up, just beaming with anticipation. In fact, this year, I put out some extra table materials that were new and enticing in case someone couldn't choose their work. I heard a first grade child invite another first grade child to play with these new things. The other child responded, "No. That wouldn't be a good idea. I have an equation I need to do, and if I play this I won't be finished before the party." The child who declined the invitation to play was not sad, in fact she went off happily to do her math problem. She's been in Montessori since age two, now she's six, and she knows her mind. Intrinsic motivation in bloom!

When the music box plays to call children to circle to celebrate, they put their work away and come carefully. We've talked, read stories, and prepared the children for this celebration for days now. The children know what this is all about. Children whose parents tell us that they cannot sit for five minutes at the dinner table, sit for a very long time indeed while cards are "mailed."

We take our time, and "ooh" and "ahh" over each child's creations. Children have cut special pictures from magazines, glittered, glued, drawn and painted. Some, from little ones, are just a tiny piece of paper with a crayon mark on it. But the children are so proud and shining as they give this gift to each of their classmates. When we are finished, we applaud, and have a dance. We've practiced our dance steps and we are ready. We've taken time to create our celebration, and we know how to party. We are a family of friends, sharing a peaceful tradition with meaning - and most of all, with real expressions of love.

FURTHER READING: This is an excellent article that has been featured in several publications. (I'm a braggy mom!), written by my oldest daughter Christina. Hope you will read and share.
 "Killing Special" by Christina Sanantonio

And finally, I would love some of you readers to become followers of this blog. I'm lonely here! And I would like to hear your comments and experiences with children, Montessori, and such! Please join and join in!

Thank You, Wind

Tousled children blew in through our front door at the beginning of last week. They stumbled over their own feet, sending boots and other children flying. Our weather's been rough and unusual for January, with bed-shaking thunderstorms in the mid of night, followed by powerful winds. Incessant, roaring background noise that was whipping the children into a bunch of little wildlings. Children seem to be particularly sensitive to strong winds, as anyone who has ever monitored a playground will attest. They come unraveled, running in circles, jumping off structures and onto each other, hooting, howling, maybe in mimicry of wind. I think that perhaps, underneath the surface, they are somewhat afraid of this wonder of nature, after all, as my mentor always said, "They've only been in the world for a few years." Maybe adrenaline kicked in by the physical sensation, the motions of trees, and that perpetual static of sound of prolonged wind sets them to spinning. Whatever the reason, the children were definitely not the little people we remembered from the Friday before. Teachers looked at each other with trepidation - just for a second. Although children may usually go right to choosing their work at our school, we decided to call them to circle. All seated, one could almost sense a sigh of relief. I always sense that the Montessori environment provides a little oasis from the harried culture that our families find themselves in these days. This day, the children had the roaring to deal with, along with lack of sleep from thunder added to their sometimes chaotic morning routines. There. The soothing ritual of "Here We Are Together." "I see Carter. Hello Carter. I see Ella. Hello Ella." Each child looks forward to being acknowledged and greeting their friends. When we gather at circle, we often share news, "...something that has happened very recently or right now." Today the news is unanimously weather news. Some of the youngest can only manage an alarmed expression and utter, "Tun-der!!" Older children give various accounts of their own bravery, mentioning that the dog was scared, but of course, they were not. Some admit to crawling into bed to hunker down with parents. The best port in a storm... Soon, these tumble weeds that rolled through our school door this morning look like our children again. We are much better. Let's go to work. Music is selected, composer's picture is placed on the music shelf, and off we go. We are not listening to Pachelbel or another lulling piece that one might expect, no, we are listening to a Velvet Underground song. Surprised? We use a timeline of musical history and feature composers and CDs that I've made for every period right through today. Elizabeth Mitchell's beautiful voice is singing, "What Goes On In Your Mind?" and this is a class favorite. We hear various phrases belted with gusto as someone does the Hundred Board, makes orange juice, paints and so on. (Only in Montessori!!!) Gus walks by the snack shelf, sees the bright, juicy oranges and the bagels and cream cheese, and exclaims, "OH! That snack makes 'my' happy!" Everyone's working. Peace in the classroom.

So many years ago, the child who lead me to Montessori, my son Nicholas, was exploring our prairie-style plantings in our front yard. He was almost three, wearing a pointy hooded sweatshirt on a beautiful, but blustery autumn day. All of a sudden, a small, brown pin oak leaf blew right into his little hand. He looked up, startled, but then recovered, grinned broadly, and cried, "Thank you, WIND!!!" I'll never forget that moment, that wonder in my beloved child's face. We lost Nick in 1990, suddenly, unexpectedly, at age twelve. My other two dear children, my Montessori children, and Montessori itself carried me through those dreadful years. Montessori and Nicholas Joseph have been my life's two greatest teachers. I would never have found Montessori if my son had not struggled in public kindergarten. And I  am sure that I might not have developed the level of commitment to professionalism and the ability to love and care for other people's children as deeply as I have, without running this difficult gauntlet. One of life's "mighty storms." (Nanci Griffith) I continue to love my son deeply through each child that I serve, every single time I soothe or encourage a child in exactly the same way that I would want my children to be served. Montessori taught me that. Nick taught me that. And that makes 'my' happy.

Elizabeth Mitchell

Elizabeth Mitchell - You Are My Little Bird
Great gift for children and families!

 

"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.