I left my classroom. I stopped teaching. And those last three weeks in May everyone kept asking me about my feelings. (Which I already think is weird, but ok). And I felt (and feel) great. I like endings. I like being finished. Did I think what I was doing was important and did I love doing it? Yes, and yes. But also? Fine to be done. I am still working on getting all of my things out of the classroom (the ugh part). But one of the great joys of the last few weeks was bringing home my gorgeous, loved (and been paid homage with reports, observations, poetry and drawings!) by so many of my students, been with me 13 out of my 15 teaching years ajolote.
An origami ninja star that has straight points instead of slanted. This easy modular origami star is made from 2 sheets of square paper. – Paper Kawaii
My students adore making this one. The number of these I have been gifted after a read aloud session do not bear counting. One I was gifted recently came to me after a learner asked me my favorite colors. :) The careful, sweet thoughtfulness of elementary children is hard to match.
So, if you have a young friend in the elementary age range and need to occupy them for a few minutes (or sometimes many, many minutes), I highly recommend teaching them how to make these.
For the Montessori inclined, this activity provides and excellent arc for the human tendency of mastery, because they can relatively quickly refine their folds and see how much better the modules come together when they exert greater precision and care.
The weirdest thing about having a mix of Montessori and non-Montessori students (as we do in the summer) is that all the non-Montessori students are constantly asking me if they can go to the bathroom.
Child? What about me makes you think I want to be in charge of your bladder? Yes, please, go to the bathroom when your body tells you to and leave me out of it.
Traditional classrooms must be tyrannical empires of bladder control.
One of the tenets of Montessori pedagogy is the “prepared environment”. This means that the person in charge of the environment (in a school the guide, in a home the caregiver) has prepared it ahead of the arrival of the child so that when they arrive it offers them pathways to explore, learn and grow that do not require direct adult mediation.
I spend a lot of offline time, when no students are present, preparing the environment. So that it’s ready. So that when they get there, they can get to work and it literally does not require me. This preparation has so many facets. Setting up the tables in such a way as to encourage sharing work and collaborating. Making sure the materials are present and organized in a way that makes sense and can be put away by them. Are there enough rubber bands, enough paper, enough pairs of scissors? Enough, but not too many (never one for each learner, except maybe graphite pencils) – again to encourage sharing and collaboration. Too much of any material leads to a disregard for it. It’s not that materials should be scarce. It’s that they are precious, and their use should be intended and intentional. Tools and materials must be clean, in good working order and – here’s the most evanescent of the environment preparation tenets – inviting and pleasingly arranged.
I put an alligator skull on the shelf. I tilt it. I take it away. I put it next to the cow skull. Remove it. Look at the shelf again. Think about what the specimens are for and how they are used. Put the alligator skull back. Take three steps away from the shelf. Crouch to kid height. Look. Yes. That is inviting. Pleasing. Beckons the imagination. Now, I look at the next shelf. I have thirty six more shelves to do.
It takes time. Energy. Thoughtfulness. And because it is invisible, behind the curtain, no one knows it happens. But it is essential.
Yesterday as I was working on the room a friend and colleague arrived and asked to look around. In a moment, a person she was meeting at school arrived. A person who had never been in our school or in a Montessori elementary environment. Like many as they arrive (I see this often on tours) he stepped into the room and his eyes lit up. “Oh this is nice,” he said. Yes. It is intentionally so. His eyes roamed the room, fell on a book on a display stand: Powers of Ten. (It’s a fabulous book, based on this movie:).
Once his eyes hit the book, he walked over and began to babble excitedly. He had seen the video and was explaining how incredible it was, how eye-opening, how cool. I invited him to look at the book, to pick it up and touch it. He spent a quiet minute leafing through the book, sharing it with the friend.
When the environment is prepared, it inspires, enlightens, invites. Montessori talked about it as seducing the child, and that has some unfortunate connotations that she would not intend, but the effect is real, and it doesn’t only work on children.
I love this part of the work. I was prepared for it by the many years I spent writing, I think. It is solitary and requires all my best brain cells in top form, but it is both essential and invisible.
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