At the end of the day, however, the fact is that we educate ourselves. We learn, first of all, by deciding to learn, by committing to learning. This commitment allows, in turn, for concentration.

Denied the opportunity to make even the most basic decisions about how and what they will learn, students stop short of full commitment.

Students should be encouraged, at every step of their learning process, to adopt an active stance toward their education. They shouldn’t just take things in; they should figure them out. … If you think about it, asking kids to be active is nothing more than asking them to be their natural selves. … Students are not naturally passive. Perversely, they need to be taught to be passive. … Active learning, owned learning, also begins with giving each student the freedom to determine where and where the learning will occur.

Once a certain level of proficiency is obtained, the learner should attempt to teach the subject to other students so that they themselves develop a deeper understanding. As they progress, they should keep revisiting the core ideas through the lenses of different, active experiences.

This kind of learning fosters not only a deeper level of knowledge, but excitement and a sense of wonder as well. Nurturing this sense of wonder should be education’s highest goal; failing to nurture it is the central tragedy of the current system.

To state what should be obvious, there is nothing natural about segregating kids by age. That isn’t how families work; it isn’t what the world looks like; and it runs counter to the way that kids have learned and socialized for most of human history. … Take away this mix of ages and everybody loses something. Younger kids lose heroes and idols and mentors. Perhaps even more damagingly, older kids are deprived of a chance to be leaders, to exercise responsibility, and are thereby infantilized.

The author above sounds a lot like another educator, who proposed an approach very similar to the one above:

Education is not something which a teacher does, but [is] a natural process which develops spontaneously in the human being. It is not acquired by listening to words, but in virtue of experiences in which the child acts on his environment. The teacher’s task is not to talk, but to prepare and arrange a series of motives for cultural activity in a special environment made for the child.

Discipline in freedom seemed to solve a problem which had hitherto seemed insoluble. The answer lay in obtaining discipline by giving freedom. These children, who sought their work in freedom, each absorbed in a different kind of task, yet all belonging to the same group, gave an impression of perfect discipline.

It follows that the child can only develop fully by means of experience on his environment. We call such experience “work.” … The child who has extended his independence by acquiring new powers, can only develop normally if left free to exert those powers. The child develops by the exercise of that independence which he has gained.

The education of today is humiliating. It produces an inferiority complex and artificially lowers the powers of man. Its very organization sets a limit to knowledge well below the natural level. It supplies men with crutches when they could run on swift feet. It is an education based on man’s lower powers, not on his higher ones.

© MariaMontessori.com

There are 60 years separating these sets of quotes: the top six are from The One World Schoolhouse, by Salman Khan, the founder of the Khan academy, published in 2012. The bottom four are by Dr. Maria Montessori, in The Absorbent Mind, first published in English in 1949.

I recently read Mr. Khan’s book, and as someone familiar with Montessori, I found it fascinating. It describes, in essence, how we could use technology to more fully apply the principles of Montessori education for the upper grades. I’d go as far as to characterize it as an application of Montessori principles. The problem with that characterization, however, is that throughout the book, Mr. Khan does not mention the Montessori method. Not even a single time!

Salman Khan is perhaps the most famous of the wave of innovation sweeping educational technology.  Mr. Khan’s innovation, however, goes far beyond merely incorporating technology into the classroom. Although made possible by technology, it is at root a pedagogical innovation.  Mr. Khan’s core idea is that we “flip the classroom” from the traditional model. In most schools today, children sit in class, listening to a teacher delivering a lecture, solving sample problems on the board. They are then sent away with homework, and asked to apply what they learned on their own, without either teacher or another student there to help them. In this model, “homework becomes necessary because not enough learning happens during the school day.”

In the classroom envisioned by Mr. Khan, the approach would be reversed: students would independently, individually watch recorded lectures on iPads or other devices. They’d be able to repeat unclear sections, or watch another video that explained things from a different perspective. The iPad, in this approach, would serve to present conceptual level content analogous to the way Montessori materials present perceptual level content in the earlier stages of a Montessori education. Assessment modules on the iPad would allow students to check their basic understanding of the materials, to engage in a first-level application through work of what they have learned. The teacher wouldn’t need to be involved in grading or correcting the work: the computer would be the control of error.

Mr. Khan emphasizes that his computer-based lectures are merely tools for a revolution in the classroom. His descriptions of his ideal school, in fact, sound a lot like what a Montessori adolescent community might look like. Just read these quotes about different aspects of the school he envisions:

I believe that the school of the future should be built around an updated version of the one-room schoolhouse. Kids of different ages should mix. Without the tyranny of the broadcast lecture and the one-size-fits-all curriculum, there is no reason it can’t be done.

But rather than three or four separate classes of twenty-five kids and one lonesome teacher, I would suggest a class of seventy-five to a hundred students with three or four teachers. To me there are several clear advantages to this, all of which stem from the enhancement of flexibility in a system such as this.

[The students] would seldom if ever all be doing the same thing at the same time. And while nooks and alcoves within this imagined school might be perfectly quiet for private study, other parts would be bustling with collaborative chatter. At any given moment, perhaps one-fifth of the students would be doing computer-based lessons and exercises aimed at a deep and durable gasp of core concepts … with one of our team teachers circulating among them, answering questions, troubleshooting difficulties as they occur. The feedback and the help are virtually immediate, and the twenty-to-one ratio is augmented by peer-to-peer tutoring and mentoring—a central advantage of the age-mixed classroom.

But what about the other eighty students? I can see (and hear!) a boisterous subgroup learning economics and trying out market simulations by way of board games such as those we’ve used with good effect at our summer camps. I would have another group, divided into teams, building robots or designing mobile apps or testing out novel ways for structures to capture sunlight. A quiet corner of the room could be devoted to students working on art or creative writing projects. A less quiet corner would be reserved for those working on original music.

The most important aspect of this is that it would carve out space and time for open-ended thinking and creativity for all students. In today’s schools, it’s not hard to find “different-thinking” students who are too often neglected, misunderstood, and either alienated or simply left behind by the rigid standard curricula. I’m talking about the kind of kid … who becomes obsessed with solid geometry and isn’t ready to let I go when the lesson ends, but rather wants to derive its equations and spin out its implications all on his own. Or the kid who is happiest racking her brain over a math problem that might not even have a solution. Or formulating an approach in engineering that has never even been tried.

These are the kinds of curious, mysterious, and original minds that often end up making major contributions to our world; to reach their full potential, however, they need the latitude to follow their own oblique, nonstandard paths.

I believe that a big part of the reason kids revere and obey their coaches is that the coaches are specifically and explicitly on the student’s side. … The teacher, like a coach, needs to emphasize that anything less than mastery won’t do because he or she expects you to be the best thinker and creator that you can be.

Such words are music to a Montessori educator’s ears! There is much more of the same wonderful vision in Mr. Khan’s book, and clearly much his way of re-imagining education has in common with Montessori.

Just think about what could be accomplished if the global reach of Mr. Khan’s technology-based efforts were combined with the world-wide network of mixed-age, co-taught, individualized Montessori classrooms?  Just imagine how much power the practical genius of Mr. Khan could have if embedded in the profound, philosophic account of human development offered by Maria Montessori?

While there are undoubtedly differences in the two approaches, what strikes me most is the similarity of the over-arching vision. It seems to me that Mr. Khan and the Montessori movement are fellow travellers headed in the same direction, but who have yet to find each other. Maybe you, dear MariaMontessori.com readers, can find a way to help make an introduction, and begin a dialogue that has the power to transform the world?

Heike Larson is the Vice President of Parent Outreach at LePort Schools, a group of six private Montessori schools in Orange County, CA. She lives in Oakland, CA, with her husband, and her two children, who both attend a Mandarin immersion Montessori program. She writes about education in general and Montessori in particular on the LePort Schools blog.

Motherhood is always a revolution, a before and after event unlike any other. Before the birth of a child, a woman is uniquely herself in one way. When she becomes a mother, her life is forever different. Eating, sleeping and working will never feel the same.  Simple decisions become complicated.

When a mom does her job well, her adult children achieve independence and leave home feeling strong, internally motivated by the knowledge their mother believed they were worth fighting for.

Revolutionary mothers alter the course of human history one life at a time, launching their grown-up children in to the world with confidence and a few good stories to inspire from within.

Courage
Judy Smith was a labor and delivery nurse in a busy obstetrics ward, a 30-year-old mother with three daughters and a puppy.  Her eldest child had just started kindergarten when Judy noticed her fingers were tingling.  Intermittently, they were numb.

Three years and several doctors passed before Judy was finally diagnosed with multiple sclerosis.  By then, she had 70% permanent sensation loss in both hands and feet.  Sometimes she cried, at night after her daughters were asleep, afraid she would lose her mobility, terrified numbness and fatigue would prevent her from providing adequate care for her patients and her family.

Her daughters remember the fierce, raw determination Judy woke up with every morning. They also remember her parenting mantra: “Always do the best you can.”

Seven years after her diagnosis, Judy rode her ten-speed bike more than 200 miles across the width of Illinois, carrying her tent on the rack she had mounted over the back tire.  Ten years later, she spent two summers hiking the southern terminus of the Appalachian Trail and through the Smoky Mountains, alongside two nurses she had delivered babies with for twenty years.

On one of her hiking trips, Judy’s eldest daughter and her new husband, Andy, agreed to pick the three women up at a trailhead, a narrow break in the trees at the foot of a Tennessee mountain. Andy and his wife arrived as scheduled, and waited for hours.  Judy and her friends did not appear.

A National Park Ranger said the campsite Judy and her friends had reserved was posted: frequent bear activity; no camping.  The ranger did not know where the hikers were, but he was confident they had not camped as planned.  “He’s never met your mother,” Andy said, then headed back to the trailhead.

Twenty minutes later, Judy emerged from the trees with her friends, a bandana tied around her sweaty forehead.  One of Judy’s friends was limping; she had developed a blister on the ball of her foot.  They said they had read the danger signs, but camped as planned, tying their backpacks to the highest branches of the surrounding trees.

“The bears came last night,” one of the nurses reported, “your mother started banging our campfire cookware together.  She scared them away.”

“Darn bears.” Judy smiled, “Apparently they didn’t know we had a reservation.”

Judy Smith has eleven grandchildren now. She retired and adopted a new puppy a year ago. Some of her continuing good health is lucky.  Multiple Sclerosis is a random and arbitrary disease that cripples and kills strong women and men every year.  Some of her good health has to do with her dauntless courage. For more than thirty years, she begins each day with the conviction that she will always do the best she can.

Strength
Anna Cornwall was forty years old when she gave birth to her only child, a daughter she named Sophia.   Like her mother, Sophia was restless, intelligent, impatient and strong.  At home and at school, she threw tantrums of epic proportion.  Sophia’s teacher struggled to get and sustain her attention.  Her mom learned that some evenings it was best to leave Sophia with her dad, walk once around the block, returning home to try again to be a good mother for Sophia.

A few months after Sophia’s third birthday, Anna started training to hike with a Sherpa in the mountains of Tibet.  The trip would take Anna away from home for a little less than a month.  This she deeply regretted, but she had always dreamed of hiking in Tibet.  “I’m not getting younger,”  she said.  “It’s now or never.”

Sophia’s grandmother and father lived with her while her mother hiked.  Every member of the family remembers the weeks of separation and adventure with a peculiar fondness.  Sophia and her family were as proud of Anna as they were happy to have her back.

Anna carried two Tibetan prayer wheels home; one she gave to Sophia’s teacher, one she kept..  “You pray for me; I’ll pray for you,”  she said.  “We need all the help we can get.”

Charity
After teaching and doing humanitarian work in the United States, Asia and Africa, Allison Lide had a conversation on an airplane that changed the course of her life.   She said this brief, intense conversation and her experience working with children around the world convinced her Maria Montessori was right about education.

“Even when I taught physics,” she says, “seemingly the driest and most empirical of subjects, I have always seen the subject matter as a vehicle for personal exploration, a way for students to get to know themselves better.”  Unlike many other modern philosophers of education, Maria Montessori understood that learning should be about character development, not about getting a job.

Inspired, Allison completed elementary Montessori training in Bergamo, Italy in 2004. Working alongside her partner, Mostafa, Allison returned to Afghanistan and established a Montessori orphanage.   She said they knew these children had suffered greatly and needed a school.  She also believed they also desperately needed a chance “to become stronger within themselves.”  A good Montessori education could give the orphans of Afghanistan the strength they would need to survive in their war-torn world.

A decade later The House of Flowers “remains an oasis of peace in the midst of chaos.”  This year one of the first children who came to live at the House of Flowers with her two sisters was accepted to college. Allison’s willingness to dedicate her life to service and her mind to Montessori’s philosophy of education brightened a corner of the world that was for a handful of children lonely and dark.

Allison and Mostafa now travel back and forth between the United States and Asia, raising money for the House of Flowers, sharing the Montessori philosophy with teachers around the world.

Their work is funded entirely by private donation, and can be admired through The House of Flowers website.

Jennifer Rogers has been a primary teacher for 20 years, the last 10 at Countryside Montessori School in Northbrook, Illinois.  She completed AMI primary training in Atlanta, Georgia and AMI Assistants to Infancy in Denver, Colorado.

Mrs. Rogers has a bachelors degree in religious studies and English from Albion College and a Master of Theological Studies from Candler Seminary at Emory University.  A mother of three children growing up in Montessori classrooms, Mrs. Rogers lives with her family in Northbrook.

© MariaMontessori.com

Because the world of public education depends on academic studies and research, the article has all kinds of implications for the expansion of Montessori Primary to many more children.  It also offers a lot of theory and data for conversations with curious or skeptical non-academics.  This one should be on the coffee table in the admissions office at every Montessori school out there.

I encourage readers to read take the time to read the whole thing. Here’s the executive summary:

• Play, as opposed to didactic learning, is a big deal in the world of Early Child Education.
• Montessori has been generally considered anti-play (when it is considered at all).
• Which seems strange, since freely chosen, open-ended activity is what we do!
• In fact, Montessori has many of the elements identified as part of playful learning (to wit, structure, objects, interactive lessons, free choice, peer interactions, intrinsic rewards, and fun).
• What Montessori doesn’t do is pretend play, such as dress-up, toy kitchens, and fantasy.
• When you look at the research, the evidence for pretend play (as opposed to play in general) isn’t all that strong one way or the other.
• Consequently, we don’t really know if adding pretend play to Montessori environments would help or hurt.
• But we can look to see if the other elements of “playful learning Montessori style” is helpful to children’s learning.
• This can be problematic because Montessori is practiced under a range of interpretations.
• But if we control for certain elements of “high-fidelity” Montessori, we see improved social and cognitive outcomes.

That’s a very condensed summary of a thorough and detailed article.  Why is this so important?

Dr. Lillard bridges two worlds that don’t communicate much or understand each other.  Montessorians often don’t get why we’re not more widely adopted, especially in the pubic sphere.  Academics often don’t seem to ‘get’ Montessori, or find it relevant to their work.  There are two reasons for this state of affairs.

One reason we have stayed on the sidelines is the play question. The academic world sees us as didactic rather than play oriented.  But ‘play-based’ is the gold standard in early child education.  The article lays that perception on the table and takes it apart point by point.  It give Montessorians a way to talk about, and answer, the kinds of questions outsiders will ask.  Consider handing this to the smart and skeptical parent who wants to know “what the research says.” It also opens the question of pretend play on both ends, challenging Montessorians to consider our biases, and asking the academy to put up some solid research on why it belongs in schools in the first place.

(Recently D. Lillard has taken on exactly that question.  She has an article questioning the research supporting pretend play, followed by a fascinating exchange of comments, in the Psychological Bulletin 2013, 139/1)

More generally, the world of public policy, where funding and curriculum decisions for schools, Head Start, and early childhood education programs are made, depends on peer-reviewed, quantifiable, replicable research. Until recently, there hasn’t been a lot of this.  That’s because of selection bias (it’s hard to get a control group of families who would have chosen Montessori but couldn’t) and because the topic has seemed so nebulous—how can researchers know what they’re measuring when they measure Montessori?  What Lillard does here is outline a research framework—defining Montessori, translating our practices into technical, researchable topics, and laying out enticing possibilities for further work.

Dr. Lillard told me that she wrote this paper primarily for an academic audience.  But it carries a challenge for Montessorians as well. There are legitimate issues around measurement and testing, to be sure, but in the end it doesn’t matter.  That is the language they speak where the decisions are made, and if we want to bring our voice to the conversation, we would do well to learn to speak it as well.  And if we can tell our story in language they can understand, we will get our story out to many more children and adults.  If not, we will remain a mostly exclusive niche.

David Ayer • The Montessori Observer

© MariaMontessori.com

Steven lifted up a half-full test tube.  “Hey, the solution isn’t turning blue the way it’s supposed to!”

Paula scratched her head. “What do you think we did wrong?”

Steven sighed and said, “I don’t know, let’s ask Ms. Margaret.”

With a dismissive gesture of the hand, Paula replied, “Nah, don’t ask her.  She doesn’t know anything!  I saw a chemistry book in the library, let’s look there.”

For Margaret, this was a moment of triumph, an indication that she was doing her job right. She obviously knows the answers to many of her students’ questions: why leaves turn red, why ice melts, and why fish have gills.  She even knows why the children’s science experiment flopped.  However, her standard response whenever a student asks a “why” question is: “I don’t know, but wouldn’t it be interesting to find out?”

The Montessori guide knows that she’s not serving her students’ best interests by providing the answers they seek.  In the real world, we rarely have someone by our side answering all our questions.  And even if we did, it wouldn’t do us much good in the long run; research shows that the most effective learning takes place through active participation, not passive absorption.

Think about what happens when you’re driving in an unfamiliar area of town. If the GPS is telling you what to do, you’ll probably arrive at your destination with little hassle, but you won’t remember how you got there!  If instead you use a map and other hands-on navigation tools, you might feel a little lost at first, but you’ll eventually find your way.  More importantly, you’ll feel quite confident navigating the neighborhood the next time you visit.

The hands-on navigation tools that Montessori elementary teachers offer include Montessori materials, books, stories, diagrams, experiments, Going Out trips, and access to experts in all fields of study.  The teacher provides an initial lesson using materials and storytelling.  But the lesson is only a jumping-off point and is designed to generate more questions than answers.

Once the lesson ends, the “why’s” begin, and this is where the teacher happily replies: “I don’t know, but wouldn’t it be interesting to find out?”

Pilar Bewley holds AMI Primary (San Diego, CA) and Elementary (Bergamo, Italy) diplomas, as well as a M.Ed. in Montessori Education from Loyola College.  She lives with her husband and baby boy in San Diego and writes about motherhood and Montessori on her blog, The Full Monte(ssori)

© MariaMontessori.com

First she unfolded the four feet of cloth, much longer than she was tall, then attempted to drape it as far onto the table as she could reach.  Next, she toddled around to the far end of the table, to pull the tablecloth over.  She leaned over the table, but couldn’t quite reach the edge.  Undeterred, she returned to the first end, and pushed the cloth a little farther across the surface of the table.  Now when she circled to the other end and leaned over, she could just reach it.  She gave it a tug.  As you can probably guess, this time she pulled the tablecloth too far.  This required that she once more return to the beginning and pull the tablecloth toward herself until it was fully extended and just hanging over both ends of the table by an equal amount.  She patted the cloth 3 times, first at one end of the table, and then at the other.  “Whew,” I thought, “that was a lot of work for a toddler!”  But, to my surprise, she wasn’t nearly done.

Now she returned to the shelf to fetch a placemat.  She selected a plaid one and put it on the tablecloth in front of one of the 4 chairs, and looked at it.  For whatever reason, this plaid placemat just didn’t appeal to her.  So, she returned it to the shelf and selected a solid beige one instead.  Apparently this satisfied her aesthetic sense, for she returned to the shelf three more times, and soon before each chair there was a nice clean beige placemat.

She studied the table for a moment, and then toddled back to the shelf for a plate.  The plates were white ceramic ones and as she headed back to the table the teacher made one comment.  “Please remember to carry the plates with two hands.”  That’s all. No “Be careful that you don’t drop it!” Not even, “Oh what a good job you are doing!”  As a result, she continued with her work undisturbed.

After four trips, each placemat held a ceramic plate.  Now it was time to bring the glassware:  one small juice glass for each place mat.  Then she stood back and admired the table, but only for a moment, for there was another table to set!  So, without further ado, she returned to the shelf and repeated the process of tablecloth, placemats, plates and glasses for the second table.

But, she still wasn’t done!  Now she began arranging lunchboxes.  Apparently, each child sits in the same place at the table every day.  So, this tiny child put the correct lunchbox by each of the chairs.

As she concluded her work, the teacher announced that it was time for the children to come to group time.  It was also time for me to observe in a different classroom, so I retrieved my things and glanced at my watch before rising to go.  I had been watching this one little girl for 30 minutes!  And, did she look tired after her exertions?  Not in the least.  In fact, she looked refreshed and happy and she joined her group of friends, with the satisfaction of a job well done.

It occurred to me as I left that hardly anywhere else could this have happened except in a Montessori classroom.  Where else would the adult have considered that such a tiny child could be capable of setting the table, and would actually want to? What took this little one 30 minutes to accomplish, an adult could have done in 3.  In few situations would the child have been allowed the uninterrupted time she required to accomplish this large task.  In most situations a well-meaning adult would have undoubtedly said, “Here, that’s too hard, let me do that for you” which might well have stopped this spontaneous expression of purpose and independence.

Only in a Montessori classroom.

Peter Davidson was the founding Head at the Montessori School of Beaverton, an AMI school in Portland and currently serves as consultant for Montessori in Redlands, an AMI school in Southern California.

© MariaMontessori.com

Parents now assume screen time is an important element in early childhood development. Only 14% of parents remember their pediatricians giving any advice about media use, despite the Academy’s 2011 reassertion of their policy. Pediatricians know parents quit listening to that message more than a decade ago. Our best educators worry about the influence of unregulated technology use on the growth of young minds, wonder at the obvious but under-reported connections between screen time and the deterioration of attention. They know they cannot hold the attention of children raised on two-second sound bites.

Children spend an average of five to seven hours every day in front of a screen. The only activity that occupies more time for children is sleeping. These same young kids are experiencing speech and language delays, and chronic attention problems. Literacy is becoming increasingly hard to achieve, creativity rare. Though there is little research to establish connections between so many young children’s failure to thrive and their over-exposure to technologies, the conclusion that screen time is corroding young minds seems ridiculously obvious to most teachers.

The AAP’s most recent research indicates that a shocking 90% of children younger than two watch some form of electronic media. By age three, one third of these kids have televisions in their bedrooms. Modern parents consider one of the most unpredictably dangerous influences on the lives of young children to be a peacekeeper, a “safe” activity for their children.

Well-educated, upwardly mobile parents fancy educational technology for kids. Lower income families use the television as a babysitter. The New York Times calls this the “app gap.” The Times points out that both sets of parents are thumbing their noses at the AAP, relying on screens to occupy their children.

The Mayo Clinic’s available information for parents acknowledges a lack of definitive research, but links too much screen time to behavioral problems, irregular sleep, poor academic performance and, most convincingly, obesity. Most major public health organizations have described obesity in epidemic terms. Screen time is obviously not the only cause of obesity, but experts consider it a primary gateway to things like soda pop, sedentary lifestyles and high-fat snack foods.

The effects of screen time on the health of families are easy to visualize. They are All American images: An overweight family gathered around the television, eating separate, high-fat meals, sharing two-liter bottles of soda. Young children eating finger-foods in their car seats, mesmerized by the screens attached to their parents’ head rests. Bug-eyed youngsters passing time on iPads and cell phones loaded with mobile apps.

The AAP, the National Institute of Health and the Mayo Clinic urge parents to limit and plan screen time, and strongly discourage allowing children to eat in front of a screen. Do not allow children to have televisions or computers in their bedrooms, they say. Do not leave the television on throughout the day. Make choices. Plan outdoor activities. Turn the television off for a day. Though teachers know parents are not following the AAP guidelines, they know less screen time for longer would build a healthier child.

A paltry 10% of parents follow the AAP guidelines. There are apps available for kids so young they are more inclined to chew the cell phone. Fishing poles and family meals are Norman Rockwell, retro visions of a time that may be forever gone. The thought of commuting or eating or falling asleep without a screen makes most parents shudder.

Teachers do not have spare time and money to sponsor research. Studies into the effects of screen time on children will probably always be poorly funded and inherently limited in scope and value. Even the best studies cannot compare a mature adult with the person she might have become, had she enjoyed a different upbringing. When a child is diagnosed with hyperactivity or an attention deficit, parents can get a prescription with relative ease. But they cannot get a do-over. When an adolescent commits an act of violence, it’s too late to turn off the video games.

Good parenting has never been easy. Bad parenting has never been easier. Screen time seems like a safe, peaceful, educational way for parents to entertain their children. Teachers of every age group know we will have to change our approaches to remain relevant and keep kids engaged in learning. Good teachers of the world will continue to dream of every child reaching his or her potential. Good parents of the world will dream too, resisting, adjusting and adapting to protect our children from the influences most of the world has accepted without question.

Jennifer Rogers has been a primary teacher for 20 years, the last 10 at Countryside Montessori School in Northbrook, Illinois.  She completed AMI primary training in Atlanta, Georgia and AMI Assistants to Infancy in Denver, Colorado.

Mrs. Rogers has a bachelors degree in religious studies and English from Albion College and a Master of Theological Studies from Candler Seminary at Emory University.  A mother of three children growing up in Montessori classrooms, Mrs. Rogers lives with her family in Northbrook.

Mom’s secret:  “There are many ways to love a child,” she said. “I keep it simple.  I have expectations.  I accept mistakes.  And I celebrate the process.”

Parenting is not consistent or predictable.  Loving a child is not always fun or easy.  Establishing a few flexible, healthy habits is a parent’s best demonstration of love.

© MariaMontessori.com

One:  Eat Together
Research has validated what most parents once understood intuitively:  Nothing is more valuable to a child’s physical, emotional, intellectual and social health than a daily family meal.  Sit at a table, turn the television off, use utensils and napkins.  It’s a simple act with profound implications.  The advantages for the life of a child far exceed the parent’s investment of time and energy.

Two:  Keep it Real
Wii is a fun distraction on a cold, rainy day. There are countless cable channels for kids, educational videos, electronic games designed to challenge and stimulate young minds.

None of these devices compare to time spent walking, talking, playing or reading with a parent.  There is no substitute for green fields, real sports equipment, friends, playgrounds and fresh air.

Children do not feel loved in virtual worlds.  To thrive, kids need to touch, move, feel and talk. They should experience the joys of conversation, the disappointment of defeat, and the drama of human relationship.  A child’s fine and gross motor skills develop through the use of her hands, her mind and her body.  Her vocabulary expands through the alternating, interactive use of her voice, her mind and her ears.  She is successful socially because she learns from her parents’ relationship how to love in the real world.

Three:  Mentors and Partners
Grandparents are treasure-troves of memories, ideas, observations and cautions.  Most grandparents remember some effective parenting techniques and will confess decisions they regret.  Experienced teachers can offer advice that is age-appropriate, reflecting their years working with specific populations of young people.  Parents of older children can anticipate phases and speak with the advantages of hindsight.

Parenting decisions are rarely quick or easy.  Age and person-appropriate expectations are seldom obvious.  Parenting without help is terrifying and dangerous. A brief, thoughtful conversation can be mind-altering, shifting a parent’s heart from despair, confusion or anxiety to optimism and hope.

Those fortunate parents with a committed, loved partner: hold on tight.   Children learn about love through observation and imitation.  Parenting is exhausting.  Find time and energy to fall in love again.

Four:  Read Together
Start young, and stick with it.  Literacy is an essential foundation to academic success.  Parents who read to and later with their children give them the best possible preparation for school, a firm foundation for learning, a ticket to travel around the world without leaving home.

Five: Welcome Failure
Parents who establish a friendly attitude toward mistakes and failures raise resilient children.  Loving a child who has made a mistake, failed a test, or fallen down on the field, means standing firmly in place while natural, appropriate consequences unfold.

A child’s confidence grows through independent experiences of failure, perseverance and success, her understanding that her parents believe she can handle the difficult situation she is facing.  Oddly enough, the most meaningful expressions of love for a child require parents to be silent and still, watchful, hopeful . . . but steadfast and smiling on the sidelines.

Six:  Assign Chores
A child first acquires confidence and a sense of competence by contributing to the daily life of his family.  Children who first experience work in their home understand that work and love flow simultaneously in happy families. A three-year old can fold napkins; a five year old can pull the trash can to the curb; an eight year old can wash the car weekly.  Chores and responsibilities should change as children age, increasing as the child grows in strength, knowledge and confidence.

Seven:  Maintain Authority
Many years ago I worked with a wise mother who had one preciously intelligent daughter, the only child in a loving marriage.  Among her many fine qualities, this mother was honest, open, and absolutely committed to raising a daughter who would grow to be as strong as she was born smart.

At a parent-teacher conference, she told me her daughter didn’t like being told what to do.  Faced with a direct instruction, she often told her mom, “I don’t like you any more.  You’re not my friend.”

Exaggerating her genteel southern accent, this fine mother said she had a fixed response: “Darling, I didn’t give birth to you because I needed a friend.”

Healthy children challenge authority and test boundaries, arbitrarily and repeatedly.  Most parents know this, yet feel exasperated, shocked, surprised and appalled when their children challenge and test.  Love for a child must include repeated expressions of parental strength and dominance, calm reminders that families are not democracies.  Children grow up feeling safe, loved and secure when they know their parents are in charge, looking out for the best interests of the children and the family.

Jennifer Rogers has been a primary teacher for 20 years, the last 10 at Countryside Montessori School in Northbrook, Illinois.  She completed AMI primary training in Atlanta, Georgia and AMI Assistants to Infancy in Denver, Colorado.

Mrs. Rogers has a bachelors degree in religious studies and English from Albion College and a Master of Theological Studies from Candler Seminary at Emory University.  A mother of three children growing up in Montessori classrooms, Mrs. Rogers lives with her family in Northbrook.

The six to twelve year-olds are characterized by their:

Rational, logical, and powerful intellects that hunger for information and exploration;

Passionate emotions that thirst for justice and belonging;

Questing, unbounded spirits that yearn for meaning and wholeness;

And their sturdy and energetic bodies that urge them to go out on their own and find out for themselves.

Provisions

In the elementary communities, we recognize and support our children’s characteristics by providing them with the motives and the means for feeding their own hungry intellects through their own active exploration of language, math, science, and social studies.

Our six to nine year-olds are given the skills and responsibility for managing their own emotional development in the community and for mediating their own relationships among their peers according to the high Montessori and school ethical standards.

We offer the children’s spirits the vision of the Cosmic Curriculum for integrating a cohesive whole of their intellectual, emotional, and social education.

Our elementary students go out beyond the school walls and gates to explore, research, and consult for themselves in order to extend their studies and anchor them in concrete experience.

This leads to a lot of Big Work concerning many Big Questions.

Big Questions/Big Work

What is Life on Earth all about? How did it Begin? How has it developed? How will it continue? The Earth, Life on Earth: Plants, Animals, and Humans? The Past, the Present, and the Future? Forming a Family, Conception, Life before Birth, Birth, Human Development, Maturity, Old Age, Death? Early Humans, Great Civilizations, the Present, the Future? Religions, Spiritual Paths, Philosophies? How much do we need/How much is too much: Poverty and Riches? The Health of the Earth, Plants, Animals, and Humans today? Poverty, Disaster, and Disease? War and Peace? Relationships, Work, and Play: Collaboration over Competition? Communities, Common Ground, and Consensus?

Transforming Philosophy into Practice

Everything we do at school, all the preparations of Lessons and Presentations, all the Rituals and Procedures, and the Prepared Environment indoors and out, is planned to make every detail a part of a whole that is compatible with our values.

The Full Cycle of Life: Death and the Decomposition of the Body:One of the Big Questions

One of the ways we relate to death with our children is to give it honor and respect and value in real, practical, and immediate ways. This is expressed in two distinct ways.

I. An Animal Giving its Body Back to the Earth (The Scientific Aspects)

Sometime during the year a dead animal is discovered. Perhaps it is a mouse or a rat. It could be a bird, a lizard, or a snake. The guide says, “Oh, look, a dead lizard. The spirit of life has left the lizard. He is dead. See how his legs are curved up. If I touch him with a stick it is not to poke around at his lifeless body with idle curiosity; it is to understand better his body now that it is lifeless.”

© MariaMontessori.com

The guide continues in a hushed tone of wonder and awe, “Dear lizard, how still you are without the spirit of life in you. How different you are from your living self. We see that you have are giving your body back to the Earth through the great mystery of death and decomposition. We come with respect and reverence to see your dead body. We will observe how you give your body back to the earth through decomposition. We will move your body to a private place where no one will bother it, but we can still watch it decomposing. We will move your body with great respect and without touching it. We will explain to everyone and we will make signs to set apart a special place of reverence for your decomposing body. The signs will say “Have respect: Lizard Giving Body Back to Earth.” Another sign will say “Decomposing Bacteria at Work: Obey the Stench and Stay Back.” We will make sure nobody pokes your dead body with a stick or makes silly faces or says, “Disgusting!”

Depending on the specifics, the guide continues with one of the following that applies:

“Look, his body is still pliant; his death must have been recent. If he were alive, would his body be warm like a bird’s or a mouse’s? When they die, their bodies become cold.”

“His body is not dry but it is stiff. Rigor mortis has set in. How many hours after death does that happen? How long does it last?”

“He is dry and hard. The moisture seems to have left his body. The air has carried it up.”

“Ants are feasting on the lifeless matter. They will turn it back into the earth for us, while they enjoy a wonderful meal.”

“Worms are wiggling in his abdominal cavity. Are they the larva of maggots, the special recyclers of earth? See how God/Nature has provided for us in life and in death? Animal bodies feed other animals in many different ways.”

“If there were vultures here, would they feast on this tiny carcass the way they feed on the bodies of rabbits and deer? See how the Life is organized so that the vulture gets the food it needs and enjoys while at the same time the stench of the decaying body is taken away.”

“Smell the special odor. Sometimes it is called the stench of death. It is a gift from Nature that tells us special bacteria are at work. These are the bacteria that serve us by turning the dead body back into rich soil. They are decomposing bacteria and they do a very beneficial work for us. We are grateful that they produce a stench to tell us to stay away from their work site. It’s the same as construction workers putting up a barricade with a sign that says, “DANGER: MEN AT WORK” in order to insure our safety. These are beneficial bacteria.”

The children that would like to make a project of it design a special form for observation and make notes twice each day on the progress of the decomposition. The guide supports them to maintain a respectful and scientific attitude throughout the process.

One day many years ago, the children found the body of a dog in the state of advanced decomposition in a dry creek bed in a park beside the satellite campus. They told the school shuttle driver how exciting it was to find an entire skeleton with so little fur and skin left on it and no organs remaining. They told the driver that this would make a fine opportunity for studying the skeleton and that the guide would be delighted to receive it. The driver endured the stench and helped the children take a plastic garbage bag to wrap the remains in. He carried the package carefully and made sure that no one touched it while it rode in the bus to the main campus.

At school, the guide helped the children put the remains into a bathtub of bleach water. Eventually, after many changes of bleach water, the skeleton was ready and the children labeled a real skeleton, one that they had found themselves.

II. An Animal Giving its Body Back to the Earth (The Spiritual Aspects)

Another time during the year, the children find a dead animal—a bird, squirrel, lizard, or snake, perhaps. They are led to approach the body with the same mystery and respect. The approach of the Spiritual Aspects of death and decomposition varies from the science of death and decomposition in that the guide leads the children to consider the various ways the dead human body is cared for. The children share what they know about it. They do research on cremation and burial. They may ask about embalming. The guide may suggest they research the Navajo way of death with their customs concerning placing the body high in an isolated place for the scavengers to enjoy, avoiding dying in the Hogan, and death that does occur in the Hogan. They research mummification and other treatments of the body over time and across geography.

The guide leads the children to consider the death by old age of animals in nature, animals as food for others, the role of fungi, desiccation in hot desert sands, and other issues. The guide waits for the children’s information and questions. They often bring up the deaths of their pets and relatives.

The children who are interested do the research and plan a service for the dead body. All the same comments are made by the guide concerning the differences in a dead and a living body and the changes over time. The same approach is taken of awe and reverence. The same care is taken to avoid contact with the bacteria of decomposition.

This time the emphasis is on customs rather than on the scientific observation of decomposition. Many questions arise about the Life/Soul/Spirit that has departed. The children discuss their own ideas and all the ideas they have heard about concerning God/Great Spirit/ Life Force. They discuss the destination of the life that has departed. Becoming one with All, becoming a part of the Earth, going to Heaven, being Reincarnated—this makes a fine subject for research and discussion.

The gerbil had died. The children arrived in the morning to find it dead in its cage. They saw that it still had food and water. They put on rubber gloves and masks and removed the gerbil from its cage and placed it on a pad of paper towels in a small cardboard box. They listened for a heartbeat with the stethoscope, but found none. The gerbil was still warm so they couldn’t believe it was dead. Really, they didn’t want to accept what they couldn’t explain.

The children called a vet. They explained the situation. He said they should observe for rigor mortis. The guide said they should keep themselves free from any bacteria that might be at work in the gerbil’s body.

The children observed the gerbil and claimed repeatedly that they had seen him move or blink or breathe. Then rigor mortis set in and the children accepted the gerbil’s death. A small group of them made a funeral. They wrote cards and drew pictures. They dug a little grave and sealed the box. They gathered flowers, sang songs, and said words over the grave.

I have spent the past two days speaking to groups of children, four to six at a time, in various classrooms about their friend’s mother. A couple of parents have requested that I write about the conversations to share them with you. When I spoke with the children, we usually began with how very sick or hurt a person can be and how complete the recovery can be. Treatments and medications can help a person get well again. The children told stories about people they have known who were very sick or injured and how they have recovered.

We spoke of the people who get worse for a long time and finally get better after years of medication and treatment. The children shared stories. We spoke of the people who get worse and worse and no medication or treatment helps them. They continue getting worse and they don’t get better. The children told of people they’ve known who died.

We spoke of the mystery of life and death and how the two are one. There is no life without death. Just as we open our arms to life, we open our arms to death. The children speak of all the animals and people they know who have died. They speak of the little babies, children, teenagers, parents, and grandparents. We talk about the usual order of things, the model we expect—that animals and people die when they are very old and ready to die. We grieve and we miss them, but it is an expected and accepted grieving and missing.

We spoke of the babies, children, teenagers, and parents who die — how few of them die and how unexpected and unacceptable we feel it is. We emphasized how unusual it is for a mom or dad to die before the children are grown up. I tell the children that a child’s worst fear is often that their parents will die, but that actually their parents will probably live to be eighty years old. Very old people who are sick and feeble may come to long for death. Those who love them may welcome their death as a kind relief. It is unusual for parents to die before the children are grown up.

The children talk about sickness, accidents, and diseases. I follow their lead and straighten out their misinformation. I repeat how wondrous, strange and beautiful, how sorrowful and lovely, and how heartbreaking and joyous life is. The children spoke of their ideas of what comes after death. We spoke of Heaven and the angels, of the Good Earth and giving our bodies back to it. We spoke of returning to Live Again and of Life Everlasting and of Becoming All with Nature, both body and spirit.

The children all had their own ideas and ways of thinking and feeling about sickness and death. We brought up many different religions and spiritual paths. We spoke of God, the Life Force, and Nature. One little boy waited until the other four children in the group had left. Then, he told me had no religion. I smiled a big, broad smile at him and said a big ahaa! He looked at me harder, with large and earnest eyes, and said, really, his family had no religion. I told him; in that case, it meant that “all of life” was his religion. He smiled and smiled. He said yes! I told him he would love all of life and be kind and loving to all of life—that he would be the best person he could be because he loved life. That would be his religion.

Children spoke of seeing a grandparent in bed at night and then finding his bed empty in the morning, because he had died and his body had been taken away. Such a mystery! They spoke of burials and cremations. We spoke of joy and sorrow, sickness and health, and accidents and recoveries. We spoke of how long and hard grief can be and how we take joy right in the middle of it. Sometimes we have to open our hearts wider even when we hurt to let a bit of joy come in to the sorrow. We spoke of how sorrow goes away, but not altogether, and how it comes back suddenly. We spoke of how we call joy back, take it in and fill ourselves up with it.

We spoke of how hard it is to see a person becoming weak and thin. Watching a healthy body change can be upsetting to us. A couple of years ago, some of our families and children experienced a father dying over a three-month period. They said it was hard to watch him change so that they could no longer see in his body the person they had known. And it was hard when he could no longer recognize them and began calling them by other names. A child described how it haunted her for a long time.

The girls in the Brownie troop remember how recently they met at Amy’s house and her mother Teresa made delicious treats for them to eat and prepared interesting activities for them to do. In their practical and life-affirming way, the children were immediately concerned about who will be their Brownie leader.

One girl spoke of how strange it will be to go to Amy’s house and not see her mother. How can that be possible? Life and death are mysteries. The children asked if they could see Teresa again. They were sad to think they would never see her again. We said that within themselves, they carry a part of her spirit and some believe that they will see her in Heaven and she will be a part of all of Life and her body will be part of the Earth. We will all remember her and speak of her. The children can tell of good times they had with her. The children can make cards. Maybe the children can attend her memorial.

One girl said it is the mother who cares for you and feeds you and listens when you are upset. How can a child grow up without her mother, she wondered? The children said over and over with fear and anger, this is not fair, not fair, not fair. They said it is okay for a sick and suffering person to die but not fair for a child not to have her mother. We search our souls for that fierce and passionate strength that we wish we never needed to find. We grow wiser than we ever wished we would.

But Amy has had such a loving and joyful mother for so long that she is strong and full of joy herself. She will be able to suffer the loss of her mother’s presence on earth yet keep her mother’s loving presence within her. It will be very hard but Amy will be fine.

Each person has a different way of grieving and we have to respect each person’s way. Your children will probably want to talk about this with you, their friends and their teachers; and they should feel free to do so. At the same time, it is important that each child respect Amy’s way of dealing with her grief and to follow her lead when discussing it with or near her. Handmade cards are a good way for children to express their sorrow and share their love for Amy while respecting Amy’s right to privacy with her grief.

Amy has many close friends whose mothers and fathers have helped out with rides to school and outings. These mothers and fathers are ready to do whatever is needed to help Amy and her father. Amy has spent her days at school and in the company of friends doing fun things.

Teresa’s dream was to move to a house close to school before she died. Her husband and family are working to make that dream come true. Perhaps they will be moving by the end of this month. Amy’s father, Tim, will keep Amy in school next year so she can be close to her friends and their parents.

We knew you would want to know what’s going on and how we are speaking to the children about it so you can support them.

With sorrow and affection, and looking toward joy,

And so, as in all things, the School Culture is pervasive, cohesive, and integrated in philosophy and practice.

Donna Bryant Goertz, founder of Austin Montessori School in Austin, Texas, acts as a resource to schools around the world.  Donna’s book,Children Who Are Not Yet Peaceful: Preventing Exclusion in the Early Elementary Classroom draws on her thirty years of experience guiding a community of thirty-five six-to-nine year-olds. She received her Montessori elementary diploma from the Fondazione Centro Internazionale Studi Montessoriani in Bergamo, Italy, and her assistants to infancy diploma from The Montessori Institute of Denver, Colorado.

© MariaMontessori.com

Why do we sometimes feel so strongly against approaching this subject with our children? We may feel uncomfortable with the entire subject and think we don’t know what to say, when really, with a little aforethought we can say just the right things. We may think talking about death will frighten our children, give them phobias or nightmares, when really it is the secrecy and avoidance that may be frightening to them. We may think it will destroy their innocence, when really their innocence is protected by the innocent and reverent contemplation of the truth of Life and Death. We may think that talking to our children about death may cause them to feel insecure, timid, or fixated, when really it will give them a sense of trust.

That’s why we hide the dead bird or mouse or snake from our children, throw it in the trash before they see it, when really it can serve as the very best introduction they can have to the subject.

It is natural to feel those ways, understandable too. In our day and time, in our place on the planet, where our lives are relatively protected from death, we get the feeling we can almost will the subject away, will it out of our children’s lives, almost avoid it altogether. Our life expectancy is long; our infant mortality low. But avoidance is a big mistake. Our children need early, natural, and balanced experience of death that is age-appropriate, that is healthy preparation for the future.

Because, it’s true; we can avoid the subject of death with our children—that is, until it hits us out of the blue, suddenly, unexpectedly, and hard. The very worst time to connect with our children on the subject of death is when we are in the midst of the reeling shock, the gut-wrenching pain, the mind-twisting confusion that can come our way. We do not present the subject well when we are caught off guard.

That’s why we are coming together to talk about death right now—so we can think through our thoughts and feelings, prepare our words, consider our actions ahead of time, with leisure and equanimity and calm, in the company of one another. We want to lay the foundation, make it strong and even, set it and return to it many times before we face the moment of truth, a death that impacts us, our families, our community.

Children have many questions about death—unexpected questions, delicate questions, insensitive questions, practical questions, philosophical questions—questions that we cannot answer well while in the state of shock or fresh grief.

© MariaMontessori.com

We aim to spend a little time making friends enough so that we can help our children make friends with death. We aim to approach the Whole subject of Life and Death, to contemplate the Mystery, to open our arms to the Certainty, so that we will be ready to support our children. We seek for them to be friendly with the death of a bird, a mouse, a snake, an armadillo, a raccoon, a squirrel, before they are confronted with a dead cat or dog on the street in the front of the house. We aim to prepare ahead so that we can prepare them to be ready, long before the death of a beloved pet.

We aim to prepare ourselves for the more proximate deaths of elderly and infirm relatives, so that we can grieve in ways that are balanced and healthy. We plan to explore the age appropriate ways to include our children in the experiences of death and of grieving.

Finally, we plan to achieve the balance we need for the possibility that we are confronted with seeing ourselves and our children through the deaths of their friends or a friend’s parent. We will hope against hope that we won’t find ourselves supporting ourselves and our children through the deaths of those even closer to them. We hope against hope that we won’t find ourselves supporting ourselves and our children through worse, but we never know. It’s best to cultivate a healthy and balanced relationship with Death as the natural counterpart of Life.

Donna Bryant Goertz, founder of Austin Montessori School in Austin, Texas, acts as a resource to schools around the world.  Donna’s book,Children Who Are Not Yet Peaceful: Preventing Exclusion in the Early Elementary Classroom draws on her thirty years of experience guiding a community of thirty-five six-to-nine year-olds. She received her Montessori elementary diploma from the Fondazione Centro Internazionale Studi Montessoriani in Bergamo, Italy, and her assistants to infancy diploma from The Montessori Institute of Denver, Colorado.

Dad says, “Bob’s coming over tonight,” and sure enough Bob appears. Dad seems to have magical powers. The child has often worked hard to practice Dad’s other magical powers. Dad can whistle; dad can snap his fingers; Dad can throw a ball through the hoop. The child practices and learns to do it too. Dad can say someone is coming over and that person appears. Dad seems to be able to make whatever he says come true. Perhaps if the child practices for long enough saying something is so, he can make it come true also. It takes a long time for some children to understand that Dad only says what is so; that why whatever he says is true.

© MariaMontessori.com

Mom asks how the vase fell and broke and Dad says the cat jumped up on the table and knocked it over. The child didn’t see it happen. Mom didn’t see it happen. Dad made it true by saying it happened. That skill seems one worth practicing. To the child it seems Dad was very fortunate he had the skill to create his preferred choice among facts of reality, no matter it really did happened that way. To the child it seems that it is true not because of a fact of reality but that Dad made it so by saying it was so. Everything Dad says is true simply because he says it. Why can’t everything the child says be just as true simply because he says it? It takes a long time for all the confusion to get sorted out. Dad doesn’t create facts of reality by saying something. Dad only says something because it is a fact of reality. Some children do not give up easily. They are determined to practice the skill of creating facts by saying them. It takes a long time for children to become convinced that they cannot acquire this skill of spontaneous creation through determination and practice.

Dad asks what happened to the headlight and mom says she doesn’t know. She thinks it happened in the parking lot while she was at the grocery store. Dad asks what happened to the coffee table and the child says he doesn’t know. It happened when he was in the other room. A child doesn’t give up easily on a skill that, were it possible to develop, would be so pleasant and convenient. We can help our children understand wishes and truth more clearly if we make those moments when we must tell unpleasant facts serve as opportunities. We can’t help our children much by the truths that are easy for us to tell, but we can help them immensely by the truths that are unpleasant for us to tell.

During the developmental period when our children are still reaching for attachment to the truth we can say, “I wish I could say the cat opened the door herself and got away, but what really happened was I was careless and let her get out.” “I wish I could say that I put your book on the table but what really happened was, I forgot to bring it home.” “I wish I could say I turned the water off but what really happened was, I forgot to turn it off.”

Instead of dealing with our children’s development directly and unpleasantly, we can make our own behavior transparent by clarifying our own process. We can say that we wish it were different, wish we could say it was something more pleasant or more expedient, but choose instead to tell the truth.

Connection

“I have a new book about dinosaurs,” says one child. “I have a new book about dinosaurs, too,” says his friend. “My dog was hit by a car and his leg is broken.” “My dog was hit by a car, too, and his tail is broken.” My uncle is staying at our house and he brought me a pogo stick.” My uncle is staying at our house and he brought me a stilts.” “I went to my uncle’s ranch and he let me drive the truck.” “I drove my father’s car to San Antonio. He let me.” “My father was born in Kenya.” “My father was born in Antarctica.” “We went camping over the weekend and saw a meteor shower.” “We went camping over the weekend and saw a flying saucer.”

A desire for camaraderie and companionship, for solidarity of human experience, or a certain competitiveness, at times, can stimulate a child to try to match another child’s announcements. We can bring perspective for a child by saying, “I saw it too. In my mind it was made of shiny blue metal and I think we should write a story about it. Let’s see, I think we should have it land in the middle of Mopac and cause a big traffic jam on the way home from school. You could help Adam write about meteor showers, Sam, and he could help you write about spaceships.

Children, who else can make the beginning of the story? Janey, what can you say you did over the weekend. Lucia, tell us what you can think up.

When children complain of others making up things that aren’t true, we can say how important it is to be able to make things up right out of our head, to use our imagination to create. “Look at this story. C. S. Lewis just made it up. How do you think he could imagine that lion and that ice queen? When we read that book, the story becomes real in our minds. It is all really true in C. S. Lewis‟ imagination. All those characters are really alive in his mind and they become alive in our minds. A good story lives in our mind for a long time.”

When a child comes to report that another child has taken liberties with the truth we can refuse to indelibly stamp the libertarian with, “liar.‟ By refusing to participate in labeling a child’s words “lies‟ when she plays fast and loose with the facts, we can model a developmental approach of faith and hope for our children. We can say, “I see the facts are important to you. When you hear something you don’t believe, you feel confused and upset. Every day Danny is growing braver and stronger. Soon he will be able to say what really happened. Right now he can’t quite do that. He is not ready yet. Danny, we want to help you get the courage to say what really happened instead of what you wish had happened. We know you will be able to do that soon.”

In other situations we can say, “I think David is going to be a very good writer. He can make up things so well that it’s hard to tell if they are true or not. Right now he isn’t ready to tell us when it’s a true story and when it’s a story he invented. David, why don’t you make up stories and let us try to guess which parts of them are real and which parts you invented. Children, it will be very difficult to tell because David is so good at inventing and creating.”

When a child is ready and we are sure, we can say, “Sheila, don’t say anything right now because I don’t want to be confused. I need to hear what really happened this time instead of what you wish. If you are not strong enough to say you ate Connie’s kiwi fruit, just don’t say anything at all. Children, change the subject and give Sheila privacy. She has a big struggle with the facts and we don’t want to embarrass her.”

Instead of correcting our children when they show indifference toward the truth we can be creative in demonstrating ways to handle unpleasant facts or undesirable realities. It is important to avoid direct confrontations with children who are not strongly attached to the truth. Often the force of our righteous indignation corners a child into saying anything that comes to mind to avoid our ire. When we are angry and confrontational we can even teach children to lie. We can take the heat out of the situation by saying, “I’m thinking up a story. A dog came in the house and made these muddy footprints. Come help me clean up after that big white dog.” “Let’s pretend a wild monkey came in the house and took out all your toys and left them all over the floor. Come on; I’ll help you pick up after the wild monkey.” “Let’s pretend you already brushed your teeth and I’m the dentist. I’ll show you where to brush better.”

We can help our children maintain a strong connection to us by showing our sensitivity to putting them on the spot and our understanding of their desire to avoid the consequences of unpleasant facts. If we show that we are on their side facing the problem with them, our children will accept our guidance in attaching to the truth.

We can help our children distinguish between what we wish were so and what is in fact so by increasing our transparency and by making ourselves more emotionally available to our children. “I wish Mary were coming over, but she’s not.” “I wish Mother had been born in Dublin, but she wasn’t.” I wish I could say that I was going to Alaska but I’m not.” “I wish my father had brought me a bagpipe from Scotland but she didn’t.” “I wish I could say that I knew how to speak Chinese but I don’t.”

Connection and Security

Children will take extreme liberty with the truth if they see they are in danger of being punished, if they are afraid of losing our affection, or if our anxiety level makes them feel unsafe. It is always best to avoid direct accusations or confrontational questioning or angry cornering of a child. Tone of voice and choice of words are crucial. Reviewing our own emotional state is important. When we are in a state of primal fear and high anxiety we are likely to provoke our children to lie. If we place ourselves on the side of our child and approach her from where she is and how she is feeling and thinking, where she was and what she was feeling and thinking, we can most often and most likely explore the truth. Our goal is to work with our child and avoid cornering her into lying.

© MariaMontessori.com

The more frightened or anxious we feel about something our child has done the more carefully we should prepare ourselves to approach him. First go to where the child is both in space and in emotion. Get eye-level and say in a quiet soothing voice, “Jacob, you were so angry. How did you get yourself so angry?” Keep the focus on how he felt and his responsibility for his feelings. “Becky, I know it is frightening to lose your temper and break something that belongs to your friend. I know you have a very caring heart. I have noticed that you are getting better and better about handling your temper. What can we do to make it better?” When a child feels secure in her parents love and faith, she less likely to deny her acts.

Be sure to demonstrate clearly and transparently that we are all responsible for our actions. When a child hears from a parent, “You are really making me angry.” Or “Do you want me to yell at you,” Or “Are you trying to make me mad at you?” Or “He made me so mad that I told him off;” she gets the message that someone else is responsible for our actions. This way of thinking tells the child we are not responsible for ourselves, that we can excuse ourselves by blaming what we do on others, and that our emotions are out of our control.

When a child feels the permission to deny responsibility for his own emotions it is only a short step to denying responsibility for the truth. It is better to show a child creative ways of handling emotions while still retaining full responsibility for them.

“I’m so angry about finding a wet towel on the bed that I’d better not talk about it right now. I’ll hang it up and you get the hair dryer to blow dry the comforter.”

“Come quickly; a water elf has been in the bathroom splashing water everywhere. Help me clean it up.”

“You must have been really angry at Paula. She sometimes does things that are so annoying. You must have felt furious.”

“A person as reasonable and as responsible as you are would have to be at the end of his rope to shove someone like that. What was happening when you lost your self-control?”

“Let’s think of another way to handle a situation like this. What do you think would help?”

“Let’s make a plan. What do you think would help you in the future?”

“You wish you hadn’t taken Sarah’s barrette.”

“You feel bad about hitting Sam and don’t want to talk about it yet.”

“You are still too upset to say what really happened.”

Donna Bryant Goertz, founder of Austin Montessori School in Austin, Texas, acts as a resource to schools around the world.  Donna’s book,Children Who Are Not Yet Peaceful: Preventing Exclusion in the Early Elementary Classroom draws on her thirty years of experience guiding a community of thirty-five six-to-nine year-olds. She received her Montessori elementary diploma from the Fondazione Centro Internazionale Studi Montessoriani in Bergamo, Italy, and her assistants to infancy diploma from The Montessori Institute of Denver, Colorado.

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The elementary years are years of vigorous, continual growth, stretched between the two poles of the first and third planes of development.  Building on the foundation – whether solid or shaky – of the first six years, they aim for the heights of adolescence.  Everything that we have a hope of understanding about these elementary children can be understood as a function of three things:  the raw materials of personhood that they bring with them from early childhood; the developmental trajectory toward adolescence; and the quality of the support and protection they have from us along the way.

Adolescence is a supremely social time of life dominated by the work of self-understanding, of orienting oneself in society and history, and of beginning to experience oneself as a power in the world.  Our elementary children are on the way to this and are therefore increasingly social, increasingly independent and competent, and possessed of an increasingly penetrating intelligence.

As Donna Bryant Goertz likes to say, if the First Plane children are like tadpoles, the elementary children are like the frogs into which they were transformed, and to keep a frog in the underwater environment that was right for the tadpole will kill it.  Both guides and parents must dramatically alter their way of working to match the very different needs of the new elementary child before them.

This does not mean that we begin to treat our elementary children as though they were adolescent to “help them grow into it” anymore than we would take a tadpole out of the water to help it get used to breathing.  On the contrary, the needs of the child are just as different from the needs of the adolescent as are the needs of the child under six from the child over six.  Children need for us to be fierce protectors of their childhood, by which I mean protectors of a full six years of safe space and time in which they can run the many social and intellectual experiments, experience the many little and not-so-little failures and successes, and learn the many ins and outs of their maturing bodies and brains that necessarily constitute “growing into it.”

 John Snyder is an administrator at Austin Montessori School. Follow him onTwitter @jrs1231.

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We know that one of the very best things any parent can do for their child’s development in reading is to read aloud to the child. Over the years, many parents and former students have told us stories of their experience reading and being read to.  What these stories tell us is that reading aloud together is far more than just a support for reading development; it can be a vital and deeply cherished time in which parents and children explore the world together through books and conversation.  Here are a few of the stories we have heard.

• She was twenty and she told us that her mom had read aloud to her every night till she went off to university. The first time she came home for a visit her mom kissed her and said goodnight. “Wait,” she said to her mom, “we can’t go to bed till you read to me!” And so their custom continued, but over time it evolved into each of them alternating to read to the other from their current book.

• A mom told us she went to visit her son in the large house he shared with a couple of other college students. Her son had told her to be sure to bring along the book she was reading so they could sit together in the evenings and read as they had always done in their family.

• A mom of three children, five, eight and eleven years old, told me she read aloud to each of them every evening for half hour from their own book. I wondered that she could squeeze out an hour and a half a day for reading aloud. She said, “Are you kidding? Looking forward to that hour and a half devoted to reading and to devoting time to each child is what keeps me going!”

• Keeping reading aloud going all through the years at home gives parents a strong connection with their child in relation to all aspects of life. One mom told me that, to her eleven year-old’s delight, she had just finished reading aloud Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice, which had provoked from her child a constant stream of questions on the history and lifestyles of the period, to say nothing of the vigorous vocabulary and the long and complex sentence structures. Her child had requested that they next delve into the Bible and Shakespeare to see how far they could get. Reading aloud is a powerful foundation for the study of art, history, current events and literature for middle school years and beyond.

• One dad, a doctor, told us he continued reading aloud to his daughter through middle school. He said he couldn’t imagine how else he could have comfortably held the long, complicated discussions with her about life and character, love and relationships, that meant so much to their father daughter bond and her future as an independent adult making her way in the world. All those literary characters, situations and plots made it possible for him to broach subjects with her objectively and openly and made it possible for her to listen comfortably and take in just what she needed, when she needed it. He said reading aloud is much more valuable and more deeply meaningful in a parent child relationship than simple support for a child’s reading level and love of books.

One last benefit of regular read-aloud at home:  it supports the child’s work at school.  When parents continue reading aloud to their child two years above the child’s own reading level, not only is family time filled with rich companionship and fine discussions, but also the child’s mind is filled with appropriate subject matter for research and projects at school with work partners.

Donna Bryant Goertz, founder of Austin Montessori School in Austin, Texas, acts as a resource to schools around the world.  Donna’s book,Children Who Are Not Yet Peaceful: Preventing Exclusion in the Early Elementary Classroom draws on her thirty years of experience guiding a community of thirty-five six-to-nine year-olds. She received her Montessori elementary diploma from the Fondazione Centro Internazionale Studi Montessoriani in Bergamo, Italy, and her assistants to infancy diploma from The Montessori Institute of Denver, Colorado.

Last May, I had the opportunity to observe a kindergarten and first grade class at the local elementary school my then 5-year-old daughter would have attended in fall, if we went the public school route.

The school I observed is about as good as it gets in public education. It’s a “Blue Ribbon”, “California Distinguished” school, with standardized test scores in the top 5% of the state. It has families all over the city vying for spots. The principal, whom I had the pleasure to talk to at length, is a kind man and a good listener; he struck me as the type of educator deeply dedicated to providing the students in his charge with a quality education.

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Generally, public schools are reluctant to allow observations by prospective parents. After I shared that my daughter attended Montessori school, and that I was concerned how she would transition to the public school environment, the principal made an exception to his usual policy and invited me to observe some of his best classes.

I saw a lot in the time I spent in each of two classrooms. The kindergarten students were working on individual letter sounds q, v, and z. The 1^st graders were writing 3-4 sentence paragraphs and working with numbers up to 100. The contrast with a Montessori classroom was dramatic. Kindergarten-aged children in a Montessori environment are reading real books and writing multi-sentence stories in cursive, and elementary 1^st year students are writing page-long stories, reading chapter books and doing arithmetic into the thousands.

But while the contrast was dramatic, it wasn’t surprising to me. I went in expecting this difference in academic progress. What really took me by surprise was just how deep the difference between the programs went. The traditional classrooms I observed were, in a thousand ways large and small, training students to conform passively to adult rules and expectations—a completely opposite behavioral mindset than the active-minded independence we encourage in Montessori preschool and elementary programs.

Let me share just two small observations among many, one from each class.

First grade: Teachers as guides or as servants? Children as independent actors, or passive observers?

In the first grade class, the children were studying how seeds grow into plants. Each child was asked to observe how a few lima beans and sunflower seeds germinated, and to record their observations in a science journal—a project that you might well find in a Montessori lower elementary classroom.

But here is how the project was implemented in this classroom: the teacher walked around the tables in the room, stopping by each child. She tore off a paper towel, put it on a plate, and sprayed it with water. She then had the child put the lima beans and seeds on the paper towel. After that, the teacher folded the towel, and inserted it into a zip lock bag, upon which the child had written his or her name. Over the entire 15 minutes I observed, the teacher was occupied making these kits for the children, while children were apparently supposed to be working independently on other tasks, but in fact spent much time chatting and mingling without a clear purpose, as the minutes ticked by. The teacher completed the kits of approximately 6 out of the 30 students in the room, suggesting that she was going to be occupied by kit making for well over an hour that afternoon.

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As someone familiar with Montessori rooms, I could not believe that the children had such a passive role! This was a class of 6 ½ to 7 ½-year olds, fully capable (one hopes!) of tearing off paper towels, of wetting them by using a sprayer, of counting out beans and seeds and placing them on a towel, and so on. These children could have and should have made these science kits by themselves! Instead, the teacher did it for them. The teacher was in charge, the students, outside observers of their own education.

I couldn’t help but contrast this with how the same experiment would happen in a Montessori classroom. The teacher might take 10 minutes in the morning, collect a group of students ready for this experiment, and give them a brief introduction, describing the purpose of the work and demonstrating how to assemble the experiment. She would then set up a table with all the materials, and invite the children to make their own kit. The children would autonomously make their own bags, taking turns at the table. They would have ownership of their work, and reinforce many practical skills in the process. They would help each other if one got stuck, with the teacher monitoring from afar to ensure that the peer interaction was to mutual benefit. The teacher would gain over an hour to dedicate to her actual job, helping students learn, rather than spending her time in essentially the role of an unwanted nanny or servant, doing things to children perfectly capable, and almost certainly eager, to do them for themselves.

Kindergarten: Respect for intellectual independence, or conformity and obedience?

In the kindergarten class, I arrived during a silent work period. I was pleasantly surprised at first: after all, independent, engaging, self-initiated work is the core means to develop concentration skills in children!

But when I observed more carefully, here’s what I saw: these 6-year-old children were totally silent. Not one word was spoken. They were glued to their desks, upon which were found things like play dough, simple coloring pages and other very basic activities typically undertaken by 3- or 4-year-olds in a Montessori class. Some children were engaged, but many more seemed bored and disengaged.

And then the work period ended. The teacher turned on the light, and started counting, loudly: “Five, four, three, two, one. All eyes on me!” Without giving children time to process her expectations, she immediately started directing her students: “Sara, put that down. Ian, stop. Look at me, now. Come on class, remember our agreement: when I count, you stop working. Let’s try that again. Put your fingers on your noses, all eyes on me!”

I stood, stunned, as I saw these twenty-odd six-year-olds touch their noses, line up, and stare at the teacher. I cringed as they were ordered to clean up, pronto (“you have three minutes to clean up, then please find your spot on the carpet” and “Peter, you are late, pick up your pace.”)

Compare this scene with the work periods I observe regularly in Montessori classrooms. There, children have 2-3 hours of uninterrupted work time, twice a day. During this time, the classroom is calm, but not eerily silent, as children are free to move about, talk in appropriate volumes as they work with friends, and select from a wide range of stimulating activities much more engaging than play dough or coloring pages.

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In such a Montessori room, here’s how the work period might end: the Montessori teacher would ring a small bell, and speak gently in a quiet voice, “Children, I invite you to finish up your work and put it away if you are interested in coming together in circle.” After this request, children are free to complete their activity, and to put it away on their terms. A child immersed in an advanced task might continue with it, even as the other children join the circle and the teacher starts reading a book or singing a song. Another child might leave his work out, with his name badge on it, so he can continue and finish it in the next work period.

Consider the difference. In the public school class I visited, the implicit theme is obedience to adult rules. In practice, students learn to conform habitually and unthinkingly to cues and prompts and commands. In a Montessori class, in contrast, the theme is respect for each individual, and the result is that a child develops the ability to responsibly take care of his own work, learning how to act freely while also considering the needs of others.

I cannot be sure how representative my observations are of public schools in general. As a parent, if you’re considering public school, you should definitely make the time to observe the school and classroom your child would be joining. What I know is that this was a highly-rated school, and the two classrooms I observed were chosen by the principal as examples of what a good public school education can look like.

If what I saw is indeed indicative of a pervasive characteristic of public education (and sadly, I suspect it is), then the implication is that in choosing between a public school and an authentic Montessori school, you are making a choice that goes far deeper than just the difference in academics. You are choosing the type of implicit values that will be emphasized to your child: respect vs. obedience, creativity vs. conformity, active-mindedness vs. passivity.

As Dr. Montessori put it, it is the child who makes the man. I’d encourage you, in judging your child’s future classroom, to ask yourself what kind of man or woman you want your son or daughter to become.

Heike Larson is the Vice President of Parent Outreach at LePort Schools, a group of six private Montessori schools in Orange County, CA. She lives in Oakland, CA, with her husband, and her two children, who both attend a Mandarin immersion Montessori program. She writes about education in general and Montessori in particular on the LePort Schools blog.

Learning disorders like ADHD seem to be ever on the rise, while many now question the effectiveness (particularly long-term) of the usual ADHD treatments. Is this “crisis of attention” due to genetics or to our increasingly hurried and distracted culture? And if environment is part of the problem, what can we as parents do to help our children focus better?

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Concentration is a skill that can be improved with practice, and Montessori provides the perfect environment for that effort. Montessori children have many opportunities to practice deep concentration every day as they work with the materials. Thanks to the three-hour work period, children are able to focus on a task for as long as they wish without external interruptions. As their ability to concentrate improves, the children also develop better self-control and self-regulation, all skills that are essential to success in further schooling and life in general.

But what about at home, or in the years before a child begins preschool?

There is a strong push today for parents to spend lots of “quality time” with our children. Many of us feel like we need to be actively interacting with our children every minute we are with them (or fearing boredom we give them video or iPad games to keep them occupied). Of course, playing with our children and interacting with them is an important part of bonding and their development. But just as important is the opportunity for self-directed independent play, even at very young ages. The best way to develop focus and concentration is to practice it, and the best way to let them practice is to not interrupt children (even infants) when they are beginning to pay attention to something.

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When you see your infant or toddler looking or playing intently with a toy (or photograph/kitchen utensil/bug/stick/whatever it may be that’s holding his attention), resist the urge to join in. Don’t say or do anything. It can feel almost like neglect for some of us, especially if we’re used to always playing with/entertaining our children, but really this is an amazing opportunity to bond as you observe your child and get to know them better. Watch as they focus on that item (it really is amazing to see that look of intense focus on their face!). If they need you they will let you know, but until then give them that time and space to concentrate and explore.

At first, any particular thing may only hold their attention for a few minutes at a time. Children vary in their natural “starting point” ability to focus. I remember my first son, at just a few months old, would sometimes spend up to 10-20 minutes at a time simply watching his hanging toys without needing my attention, while my second had a much harder time entertaining himself through most of his first year. But if you give them time and space without interruptions, you’ll notice these periods gradually lengthening. My zero-attention-span second baby is now a fully-mobile 14 month old who is much more interested in the world and is often content with me simply being nearby as he plays independently with the pots and pans in the kitchen. My four-year-old often plays in his room all by himself in the morning after waking up, not needing another person or gadget to entertain him for as long as an hour or more before coming out to greet us. He sometimes even gets mad at me if I try to join him before he’s done. This sort of independent, focused play is wonderful for their development and creativity, and the more they can practice it the better and easier it will become.

As an aside, I’d like to say a word here about TV/”screen” time and its effects on concentration, based on our own experiences. We do not ban TV in our home, but I have definitely noticed a need for balance.

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Moderate amounts of screen time (no more than 1-2 hours a day, a few days a week) seems to work well for us without noticeable ill effects. However, if we go above that—perhaps getting up to daily watching—I notice a difference. Suddenly my 4 year old will have a much harder time playing independently, instead asking to watch TV more and more frequently as if he has a hard time thinking of other things he wants to do. When he does play it’ll be imitations of whatever show he’s been watching rather than his own creation. So I also feel that a component of fostering concentration is to limit screen time, especially at these younger ages. I can’t say what that “attention threshold” may be as I’m sure it’s different for each child—some may be able to have more screen time and others may feel the effects with less. Try to figure out what that threshold may be for your children, and stay below it. I know all too well how crucial that “TV break” can be as a parent, but if you can help your children develop their concentration so they can play independently for extended periods of time, that is a much more rewarding “break” for everyone involved.

Marcy Hogan holds a Primary diploma from AMI. She lives in Sacramento, CA, along with her husband and two sons. She also writes about parenting and life in general on her blog, Life is Good.

How does the early introduction of matches, needles and knives prepare our children for the responsibility of car keys at sixteen, eighteen or later? What qualities do we hope for in a young person to whom we hand the car keys?

• Trust in us, appreciation for our trust of him, confidence that our concerns are real and well-founded;
• Intention, attention, and responsibility, and at such an early age, for the machine that kills and maims so many each year, and will likely do so to young people he knows well;
• Concentration, focus and perseverance in holding those;
• A strong confidence and deep understanding of who he is—that he is capable and skillful and worthy, so that he is not attracted to doing something dangerous to prove himself to his companions

Those are the very qualities we are building into the character of our children in our school by the use of such tools as matches, needles and knives.

First, let’s begin with the introduction of each into the children’s lives in their Montessori community.

Knives: A serrated table knife or other serrated knife with a rounded tip is a standard tool in the Youngest Children’s Community. It is introduced following the child’s mastery of the two-handled chopping blade, which comes first because both of the child’s hands, and therefore fingers, are occupied well above the blade during the chopping process. As safe as this is, it is introduced with an air of caution and a hint of danger. The materials laid out for this activity feature the blade in a specific place, oriented in a specific direction. The strength of the guide’s intention that this is a dangerous tool and must be handled with precision and care is brought to bear. The presentations with the two-handled chopping blade are always given with fullest attention to detail in the lifting, holding, handling and using of the tool as well as its placement on the tray while at rest.

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When the child is seen to be responsible and skillful with the chopper, he is introduced to activities that include the blunt-tipped, serrated knife. It is more challenging because it has only one handle and that handle is close to the blade. One hand can be kept safe by holding that handle securely away from the blade, but the other hand must be kept safe by placing its palm on the non-cutting edge of the knife and holding all fingers and the thumb curved upwards. To distinguish the non-cutting edge of the knife from the serrated edge, the cutting edge, is not left to observation for a child so young. The non-cutting edge is marked with a thin stripe of red plastic tape. In the activity set, the knife is placed always in the same place and in the same position on the tray. While in use it is always set down in exactly the same place in the same position. The guide does so with utmost attention and intention, conveying with her facial expression her exquisite care and respect for the knife and her recognition of its danger.

In turning the knife over to the child, the adult conveys this approach of seriousness respect and attention. She steps aside and observes to insure that the child is using the knife in this manner and with this attitude.

All of this intention, attention and precision gives the child knowledge of several things:

• He is trusted by the adults in his life;
• He is recognized by the adult as capable of keeping himself and others safe through his own self-discipline;
• He is trusted to remember and persevere in taking great care with a dangerous tool;
• The adult has confidence and faith in him;
• He can trust that when the adult says no, there must be a very strong reason because the adult has shown respect by giving him dangerous tools to be used with great care and shown him how to use them;
• The adult will always do the very best to respect his desire to learn and do if it can possibly be made safe;
• He can use dangerous tools to carry out dangerous tasks because he has skill and intention.

Needles: At the very end of the Youngest Children’s Community, the child is introduced to the use of a needle. It is blunt but still it is a needle and it is dangerous. The needle is kept in a small wooden cylinder with a tight lid. While in use it is inserted into a pin cushion when set aside for a moment. All the care of manner and method and bearing described above is given by the guide in introducing the use of the needle to the child.

The child moves up to Children’s House and continues to build his skills at using needles and knives. He uses many other tools as well, each posing a new challenge and building his healthy self-esteem. He augments his understanding that he is trusted, worthy, skillful and responsible. Adults will not underestimate him. He need not show bravado in order to prove himself to himself or others. He need not take secret risks, hide his interests from adults or take what has not been presented to him. He will always be taken seriously and prepared to challenge himself when he is interested. He is supported to believe the adult.

When I was a Children’s House guide in the first five years after founding the school, a little girl in our community poked herself with a needle while sewing on a button. She left her work on the table and went round the room showing the children the tiny drop of blood on her finger and telling them to be careful with the needle because look what it could do! It was impressive and I was glad. The children could see that adults could be trusted to show children how to use a dangerous tool and to trust them to take care, even when they could get a safe little hurt, so when an adult said no, there must be a really strong reason.

Matches: In the elementary level, between the years of six and nine, most of the children learn to use a match for birthday candles and science experiments. The guide shows the children how to make themselves safe by rolling up their sleeves high and tight, pulling back their bangs with a head band and their hair with a ponytail holder, and belting their loose shirts and blouses. The matches are kept in a certain way and never opened without having a little dish of water or sand right there at hand. When striking matches children sometimes become panicked and want to throw the match as it suddenly bursts into flames.

© MariaMontessori.com

Only one match at a time is kept in the striking box. The guide shows the children in a stylized way, slowly and dramatically, how to take out the match and close the box; how to hold the end of the match by the thumb and middle finger; how to support the match up toward the head with the index finger; how to remove the index finger from proximity to the flame as soon as it lights. This is done first with a match that has a burnt-out head. It is practiced over and over until the movement is automatic, programmed into the muscle memory.

Next, the adult shows the child how to light a match, hold it vertical so it is oriented in the direction of the flame, then turn it horizontal so it can be pointed at what is to be lighted, and then put it in the sand or water. When these actions become automatic, set in the muscle memory, it is time for the final step—lighting the candle. If the candle doesn’t catch before the flame gets too close to the child’s fingers, the child puts in into the water or the sand and lights another match. Each match is taken from the supply of matches one by one and put into the striking box.

Once the child can light a candle and snuff it out with a candle snuffer with confidence and ease, he is ready for further challenges. A nice refinement is for the child to learn to blow out the match, which can be quite funny because the first few times the child holds the match in front of him in front of the candle so that when he blows out the match, he also blows out the candle. It takes a few practices for him to remember to turn at a right angle from the candle before blowing out the match. Always the bowl of water or sand is right at hand.

During the elementary years, both early and upper, the child carries out science experiments which are progressively more challenging. In upper elementary the child must pass a science safety test and receive certification before going forward to more challenging experiments.

So, over the long years from Youngest Children’s Community through Children’s House, Early and Upper Elementary, and the Adolescent Program, our children grow confident and capable, strong in their sense of who they are and trusting of the adults who have been their supporters and empowered them along the way. This is the best way to prepare children for the day when we put a set of car keys in their hands. This is the value of matches, needles and knives, and the uses to which we put them!

Donna Bryant Goertz, founder of Austin Montessori School in Austin, Texas, acts as a resource to schools around the world.  Donna’s book,Children Who Are Not Yet Peaceful: Preventing Exclusion in the Early Elementary Classroom draws on her thirty years of experience guiding a community of thirty-five six-to-nine year-olds. She received her Montessori elementary diploma from the Fondazione Centro Internazionale Studi Montessoriani in Bergamo, Italy, and her assistants to infancy diploma from The Montessori Institute of Denver, Colorado.