Something I want my students to know...

I've had the privilege of teaching young children for about ten years. From the first fearful step into the 3rd grade classroom of P.S. 154 as a City Year Corps member, to looking up at my ninth and tenth graders during my teacher fellow year at the Collegiate Institute of Math and Science, I've been humbled to be in the presence of these young people. And now, in a primary Montessori classroom, with children who will remember me as one of their first teachers--if not the first teacher they've ever had--the stakes feel higher, even as I have to bend lower to look at my students in their eyes. I sometimes wonder if the message I want to get across to each child comes through in the way I'm teaching. If not, here's what I'd want them to know:

Everyday I think about how I can be a better guide to you, and everyday I feel more inadequate to do so.
I want you to know that you have far greater ability than you think, particularly the ability to do good in the world. Keep striving.
You don't need to ask me permission to go to the bathroom. Just go.
It is preferred that you don't give me a hug while I am giving a lesson to another child. But should you need one, ask. The answer will (almost) always be yes.
Please know that when I'm looking at you and listening to what you are saying, there is most likely a smile under my mask...unless you've just told me you've hit someone. That is not okay, Rosie.
I try to speak carefully and walk lightly around the classroom because I recognize that this is an impressionable time for you; I do not wish to leave tracks of mud upon the carpet of your mind. ( I also don't want to distract you from your work...could you try to follow my lead and stop tickling your neighbor?
Finally, know that I love you and the person you are becoming. I really want to do right by you, and I'll never fully know if I have. So I'll just continue striving to do better. I pray you do the same, even after you've left my room.

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A return

It's been a long while since I've used writing as an outlet for thinking about Montessori pedagogy. But I have been using my voice in other ways. When I was growing up, I was slow to speak and would more likely be found writing in a journal rather than talking to others. There are some tendencies (not in the Montessori sense) that stick with you, even into adulthood. But lately, even in shyness, I've been speaking more rather than writing; sometimes to my colleagues regarding the lessons I've learned about the classroom; sometimes to parents to remind them that they are doing the most difficult of jobs, and that I know they're child well. But what I'd forgotten is how the written word has a magic to it that cannot--or perhaps ought not--be forsaken. It is in the written word that the ideas of one person can be conveyed, at least in part, to a completely different person. And in that transfer, hearts can be shared as well as minds. It's how I learned about...

When a square is more than a square

While we've spoken of the long bead chains before, I wanted to focus on a specific point of interest. Each colored bead represents a certain number and a certain set of that number. When placed in a long chain, children are able to count them, identifying important numbers within the set. So in the Long bead chain of 5 (light blue in color) it has number tags for each set of 5 (5, 10, 15, 20, etc). There are larger tags for each square of 5 (that is, each set of 25). When a square tag is placed on each squared number, a square bead is placed as well. To think that Maria Montessori thought about the concept of squared numbers and considered a means to make it as concrete as possible! To think there are children all over the world who are learning a mathematical concept that they can feel in their hands before ever knowing how to connect it to an algebraic equation. It's quite baffling. What beautiful things God makes, both concepts and man to understand them.

Dwelling Place

The sensorial area of the Montessori curriculum has always been fascinating to me. They tend to be the more colorful materials in a Montessori classroom, standing out against the plainness of unadorned walls and shelves, making silent proclamations to the children to investigate and peruse. The red rods beckon them. The pink tower stands erect as a quiet monument towards budding curiosity. The constructive triangles seek one to dream new dreams. Children have this natural curiosity and desire to have engagements with the world around them through their senses. These days we adults don't have time for such exploration. But what is mindfulness if not a reconnection to our inherent ability to engage with the world around us in this present moment through the God given receptors we've been given, namely our senses? I'm still learning to give children (and myself) space for exploration. To do so is to lead one's heart to praise of some sort. There's just so much beauty ...

Grace and Courtesy

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