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Let Us Not Underestimate

“How do you do it?” It is a question we receive often from parents.  Most of the time my reply is more tongue in cheek than it is from the heart. “Oh, working with the children is the easy part” I reply.   And while there is truth to that response, I’ve been feeling compelled to speak more from the heart and answer this question honestly, and with as much compassion as possible.

How do we do it?  Most often when people ask this they mean, how do you work with so many tiny children?  How do you get them to listen?  How do you get them to clean up their things?  How do you get them to sit quietly?  How do you stay calm, not go crazy or lose your mind?

2.5 year old making silence.

The answer is simple – it truly is.  We never underestimate their ability.  That’s it, that’s the secret!  As Montessori teachers, we are trained in how to give lessons, how to build a beautiful learning environment, how to observe, and how to make the perfect match between the child and the material so that the challenge is just right.  But the secret sauce that makes it all work is a core belief that they can.

More often than not children’s’ abilities are underestimated.  Notice the children you see at restaurants in front of screens because it is assumed that they cannot sit at dinner politely for an extended period of time and hold an interesting conversation.  Count the number of hours spent putting away your child’s toys that have been left out time and time again.  Think about the times we find ourselves wishing for a third arm as we carry our children’s’ backpacks, lunch boxes, sports gear, etc. for them.  (I too catch myself underestimating my own children outside the classroom, but I’m here to tell you they can do it.)  Get curious about how many times we allow our children to interrupt us because for some reason we feel waiting is too hard for them.  And while many of these actions are done in the spirit of helping, what we are unintentionally telling our children is “I don’t think you can do this, let me do it for you.”  Ugh, that feels like a punch in the gut, doesn’t it?  The good news is, you are not alone in this, and that it is never too late to start advocating for their abilities.

In our classroom, we work tirelessly to show the children just how much they can do.  We show them how, and then we expect them to because they can!  In our classroom, the children get their own snack, pour their own water, wash their own dishes.  They put on their own shoes and coats.  They fold laundry, mop up spills, put works back where they belong, refill supplies when needed, clean tables, empty trash, and the water plants. They offer lessons to friends, wait patiently for their turn, and quiet their own minds and bodies to make silence.  They do all of these things and so much more.  It simply wouldn’t be possible for us to teach without being able to count on their independence.

4yo serving themselves snack

4yo washing their own dish

 

5yo offering a lesson to a younger friend

So how do we do it?  We actually don’t; the children do it.  We simply offer guidance and love and support and a steadfast belief that they can do anything.

Hallow….wait!

Becoming a parent changes you, in ways that you never thought possible. It goes without saying that your entire world and focus changes. All of the sudden you start to care about things like schedules, and bedtimes. And you worry about routine, and friendships, and whether or not you are doing a good enough job. Are you present enough? Are you offering enough freedom and independence? And if you indulge yourself, there is an endless supply of doubt and worry to be had. Then there are the things that pop up and blindside you – things you thought you had an idea about but were completely wrong.

For me, this was Halloween. I was a new-ish parent with two young kids, 2 and 1. I had bought all the Halloween decorations and even a couple of costumes for my littles. I kept things pretty mellow and stuck with the smiling jack-o-lanterns and black cats. I was excited to decorate our house and create memories with my kids. That is what we are supposed to do right? I had memories of my own Halloweens as a child and couldn’t wait to get going on creating those with my own children. I couldn’t have been more wrong.

I remember one afternoon walking with my daughter to our neighborhood park. It was a cool fall day in mid-October. Halloween decorations were out in full swing in our neighborhood. We started walking, and only got about a half a block before she stopped all of a sudden, grabbed my hand tightly, and said, “Go home Mama?” I could see that she was nervous about something but I didn’t know what. “No, we are going to the park remember?” She insisted, “Go home Mama!” she said pulling me in the opposite direction. “Baby girl, what’s wrong?” I asked. “I scared,” she said crawling up my as if something was chasing her. I looked up to see a skeleton hanging on the front porch of my neighbor’s house.

   

That skeleton knocked the sense back into me. All of the sudden I could see our neighborhood through my daughter’s lens. There were giant spider webs, ghosts, skeletons, creepy bloody goblins, and all kinds of spooky things. Out of nowhere, her normal had changed. What was once a simple enjoyable and predictable walk to the park had all of a sudden changed to something very horrifying and unpredictable. Of course, she wanted to go home. It was scary out there.

You see, young children are not developmentally ready for Halloween. Their inability to decipher fantasy and reality makes Halloween very confusing and very scary for them. What young children need is time spent in hands-on three-dimensional reality. Halloween is so far from reality, that it causes confusion, even worry and anxiety for many young children.

I never ended up decorating our house for Halloween that year, in fact, we never even bought candy or opened our door for trick-or-treaters. Instead, we held my daughter in the night as she suffered through some awful night terrors. We spent our days, crunching fall leaves in our little courtyard, painted pumpkins, enjoyed the pumpkin patch, and we let Halloween go.

My daughter is 6 now and Halloween still makes her nervous. I also have two younger sons (5 and 3), and while Halloween doesn’t appear to be as scary for them as it was for her we are still very conscious about how we choose to partake or not in this holiday. In fact, we have adopted a love for celebrating the Mexican holiday Dia De Los Muertos. It has given us the opportunity to honor and learn about our family in a real meaningful way, yet enjoy the traditions and desire to decorate and celebrate.

So this year, as Halloween approaches, I would encourage you to pay close attention, and really think about what your children are experiencing. It’s okay to make Halloween wait. Take solace in the fact that the time will come when your children will make Halloween memories like those ones you have from when you were a child, it just might be a few years down the road.

How Was Your Day?

“How was your day?” It’s the automatic question that just pops out of our mouths as parents. You pick up your children from school, you haven’t been with them all day, you want to connect, and so you ask it. You might even follow-up with “What did you do today?” And more of than not the answers to those questions go something like, “Good.” and “I don’t know.”

Here’s the thing about those questions. Asking them becomes a habit, which gives the effort for connection little meaning. The truth is, our little ones don’t have the capacity to really answer that question. It’s so big and broad that it is overwhelming to them. They don’t spend their time at school cataloging all of their activities for the day. They are living in the moment, working for the sake of working, because it feels good. They are figuring out routine, learning how to concentrate and make decisions, and feeling what it feels like to be a member of our classroom.

So what should we ask when we greet our children after a day at school? Is it possible that a question isn’t the greatest greeting for your child? Consider just a warm welcome with a hug and a smile, and perhaps “It’s so nice to see you.” Give the connection some space to land, and let your children lead the way. Do they want to talk? Do they need some quiet? Are they hungry? Your children have been on their best behavior holding it all together at school, and you are their comfort. Be that for them.

There is absolutely a time for learning about each other’s day, and it may even be right after pick up. Sometimes I even start the conversation with a story about my own day. “Do you want to hear a story about something that made me laugh today?” My kids love it, and often the conversation about our days will organically unfold from there. If questions feel more natural to you consider asking specific questions. Here are some ideas to get you started:

“What made your smile today?”

“Who did you play with on the playground?”

“Which teacher lead line time today?”

“Did you help anyone today?”

“Was there anything that was challenging for you today?”

“What made you laugh today?”

“Who did you sit by at lunch/line time today?”

“What is something you saw that made you think?”

“Were you brave today?”

“Did you ask any questions at school today?”

“What was for snack today?”

“Did you do a work on a rug or a table today?”

   

I mention this as it is all fresh in my mind these days. This year for the first time I’m not part of my daughter’s classroom, and I have no idea what is happening during her day. As her former teacher, this is super tough for me, and I’m working through the adjustment. I’m practicing patience and learning this new dance with her. I’m trusting that she’ll share what she feels she needs to and leaning more into the uncomfortable of not knowing every single part of her day. And as habitual and instinctive as it is, I’m working on refraining from asking her, “How was your day?”

Ready or Not

I’ve been a mix of emotions lately, and they seem to be just mixing more, getting bigger and more unclear.  Some days I think things are all settled and I’m good. I’m at peace. She’s ready to move on, the teacher in me knows this. I see her on the playground leading games, and cracking sarcastic jokes – clearly she’s moving… er has already moved into the next plane of development. She’s barely small enough for the little chairs, and hunches over every day to wash her hands. I’m sure that little potty is really far down there too. The little circles are all checked in Montessori Workspace, she’s keeping tabs on everyone and everything, reminding me that we need to get more paper towels, and she noticed two friends fighting on the playground  said, “I think maybe we need to have another Peace Flower lesson before we graduate.”

Graduate. That word hit me like a ton of bricks. She’s going to be a graduate. Just breathe that in for a moment. It means she won’t be part of our class anymore, and that I won’t be her teacher anymore. It means that her work, and mine (as her teacher) are done. The mother in me is having a hard time accepting that.  I’m going to miss her smiles, and surprise hugs. I’m going to miss hearing her belly laugh from far away on the playground. I’m going to miss staring at her while she works, standing back in awe as she helps little ones like it’s in her genetic code.  I’m going to miss racing her to the front door in the early mornings, and listening to her talk about her day, knowing most of what happened already because I was there too. But she is ready.  My head knows this, just not my heart yet.

I remember I couldn’t wait for her to start school – she was a spirited toddler, with an unquenchable thirst to learn and I was thrilled that a team of some of the greatest teachers I know we’re going to punch her in the face with some Montessori. Not much has changed in four years – our teachers are still some of the greatest that I know, and she is still as spirited as ever. And that unquenchable thirst for knowledge? It’s still there too.

      

In three short days, she will walk over our bridge, and I will shake her hand and whisper congratulations. I’m sure there will be tears rolling down my eyes but hopefully they won’t show behind my sunglasses I’ll be wearing because I want her to know that while I feel sad for all the things I’m going to miss about her not being there, I’m extremely proud of her, and feel more lucky than ever to have had the honor of being her teacher. Ready or not, here she comes.

photo credit: Mary Pantier Photography

The Things They Say – January 2016

“Time to master this work!” – Caleb

“You need to shave your skin mama cuz it’s getting kinda wrinkly.” – Darby

“Do you need me to teach you how to say ‘Make good choices’ in Spanish?” – Emi

“Do you want to know something funny about blueberries? The stem is on the bottom!” – Emily

“I call my brother Mr. Booger” – Hewitt

“I’m just very busy finding works all over the classroom so I can’t work with you. Maybe next time!” – Jake

“My mom does not play basketball. My mom plays exercise” – Kemper

“We live on the Earth. My family does too!” – Kyler

“Can you put a pizza work in the classroom?” – Mason

“I’m going to Africa…. and Dillon where my grandparents are.” – Molly

“I would love to live in the Arctic. I could eat snow all day and probably ride a penguin.” – Noah

“Sometimes small buttons are the trickiest, but I sure am doing it!” – Ryan

“It’s almost time for me to teach all the little kids!” – Sean

“And untrick is the opposite of trick!” – Tyler

Brown Itchy Gloves

Once upon a time there was a young girl who had a pair of gloves. They were brown and itchy, and she didn’t like them one bit. She longed for a pair of pretty little stretchy gloves like all her friends at school but her father was adamant about her having good gloves for winter. Every morning in the winter, as she got ready to walk to the bus stop she grumbled about her brown itchy gloves.

“Why can’t I just have some pretty gloves?” she asked her dad.

“These gloves are wool, they are warm, these are good gloves!” he replied.

One day it happened; the gloves went missing. While the little girl felt bad about losing her gloves she was more excited about the opportunity to get new ones! She told her dad she lost her gloves at school. He grumbled about it, but wasn’t really too upset. A few days went by and her dad came home with some new gloves! The little girl was so excited to wear new pretty stretchy gloves. She was sorely disappointed when she saw not a pair of pretty stretchy gloves, but another pair of brown itchy gloves.

A few more weeks and a lot more grumbling went by. Then it happened again. The little girl lost her second pair of gloves. She knew her dad was going to be upset this time. With her head sunk low she told him she left them on the bus. And just as she had suspected her dad was less than pleased.

“You have to keep track of your things. We are going to go find them!”

With that the little girl’s dad loaded her in the car and drove the school district parking lot where all the buses were kept. They searched the bus – nothing. No gloves.

“I guess you’re going to have to check at school tomorrow – and if you can’t find them, you might just have cold hands.” said her dad.

The little girl thought that cold hands seemed better than brown itchy warm gloves.

Af few more days when by, no gloves were found. One day her mom came home from work with a new pair of purple knit gloves. The little girl was elated!

“Are these for me?” she asked

“Yes” said her mom “but you have to keep track of them.”

“I will, I promise.” said the little girl.

And you know what? She did.

This is a true story. I’m sure you’ve guessed by now that the little girl is me. And I can almost guarantee that if my parents still lived in the house that I grew up in I could find those purple gloves today.

So what’s the point of this story? Just to illustrate the fact that having your child’s buy-in is a good thing. While we can’t leave all the decisions up to our young children, we can give them some buy-in. My Dad’s heart was in the right place. He just wanted me to be warm and have good gloves. The part that was missing was my buy-in. I just wanted to have pretty gloves. I didn’t care if they were warm or not; and I certainly didn’t care about those darn brown itchy gloves which is probably why I lost two pairs. When children have the opportunity to give input, be heard, and have a little bit of ownership over decisions both big and small, often the outcome is better for everyone. Do you have any brown itchy gloves in your closet?

Date Time Distracted

We are a busy family of 5, and there are definitely times when it feels like life is chasing us, however every family is busy, and everyone feels like life chases them at some point or another. In our family we do our best to have individual date time with our children, in fact making this happen takes logistics. It’s coordinating schedules, finding a babysitter, and planning ahead. But the amount of extra work to make it happen pales in comparison to how important it is to us and our children. Date time is one-on-one connection time when little brother isn’t screaming at you for wrecking his ramp, or big sister isn’t smothering you with her “mothering”, or Mom and Dad aren’t multitasking through every minute of the evening. Date time is connection time. For an hour or two we operate on our children’s clocks, we slow down, we listen, we talk, and we connect.

Last week I had a date night with my daughter. It was a crazy day, actually it was a crazy few weeks. It was very evident that we needed some time together, just her and I. I was really looking forward to going out to dinner with her and being blown away by how fast she’s growing up, being caught off guard by the new facts she’s learned, and the one liners she’s picked up. I wanted to stare at her from across the table – making sure to remember every wispy hair from her forehead, her crazy mismatched outfit, and her smile full of baby teeth that will soon be falling out – changing it forever. I was looking forward to connecting.

We went to a little local pizza shop – it’s a fun place because you can sit at the bar and watch your pizza being made. We were seated at a little table for two. Darby wanted to sit next to me; my heart melted. I scooted her chair on the side of the table so we could be closer. Just as I scooted her chair over a family of four was seated at the table across from us, and another family of four next to us. Darby and I were chatting out about the day, and our upcoming vacation. She had her hand on my arm, and then… I lost her. Her gaze had moved over to the table across from us. I looked up to see this family out to dinner, Mom and Dad on their phones and the two kids each on their own iPad. No one was talking, nor were they looking at each other – in fact the waitress had to ask them twice if they were ready to order. The youngest boy was watching Curious George on his iPad, and was seated in a way that gave Darby a clear view. She was gone. I tried my hardest engage her, I asked her questions, I even changed seats so that my body blocked her viewing but she kept leaning one way or another to catch a glimpse. I grabbed her hands, and crouched down to look her in the eye, “Darby, this is our date night, I want to look in your eyes and be with you, but it’s hard to do that when you are watching someone else’s iPad.” she honestly responded, “I know it’s our date night, but it’s just so hard, my eyes just can’t hold it in.” Our pizza arrived just after she said that, but her attention was elsewhere, my heart was a little deflated, and the best move was to just finish dinner and head home. I served us both some pizza, but was interrupted by the foul language coming from the mother sitting at the table next to us. She was describing her ex-husband, using profanity after profanity, paying no attention to her own to children who were staring at her wide eyed. I couldn’t take it anymore, I packed up our dinner, left cash on the table, and told Darby we had to leave. I left infuriated. I was so upset that other people’s poor choices ruined my connection time with my daughter.

If there is a silver lining it would be this: Darby asked me, “Why do we have to leave Mama?” I said, “Because I want to spend time with you, and I don’t want us to be distracted by other people making sad choices.” This of course led to a great teachable moment, we talked about why we have date time, what it means to connect, why we have rules about screen time, what it means to be kind, and respectful – the whole deal. I was reminded about the importance of phone etiquette, screen time, and little listening ears. When I think back on that night, I’m not as angry as I was, in fact, I actually feel more sad than anything. I feel sad because I saw children missing out on an opportunity to connect with the ones they love. I feel sad that Darby I and missed out on connecting. I know that I will have more opportunities for date time with my daughter, but I am little bitter about that lost time, and those moments that could have been.

I share this story as a reminder to be mindful and present with your children ALL the time. Be genuine and conscientious with your intent – they are taking it all in. It can be difficult when life is chasing us to hold ourselves to such standards, but before you know it we’ll chasing after memories of connecting with our little ones.

 

Inspired

You see it on the calendar – school closed and you are either stoked to take a mini family vacation or are fretting about childcare for that day. If you are one of the ones who was fretting about child care I’m here to say I was right there with you. However, I’m also here to say that on the other side of all that hassle was something wonderful, something so fulfilling, and the best part is your children are going to get to experience it this year.

Kelly and I spent the weekend in Estes, soaking up all that we could at a Montessori Conference. We listened to seasoned teachers with 40 or more years of experience share their stories. We shared stories with fellow teachers in the trenches about what is working, what isn’t working, and brainstormed ideas on how to make things better – better for us as teachers, better for the children we serve, and better for the parents. We feverishly took notes on neurological studies that support Montessori education, on how to make tortilla soup with the children in a way that is acceptable in the eyes of the Health Department, and why it is so extremely important for children to be in contact with nature every single day. We came back with some new materials, new friends, and new ideas on things we thought we knew.

So thank you for supporting us in learning more about how to do everything we do even better. We are most certainly inspired.

Excuse Me!

Excuse me, excuse me, EXCUSE ME! Have you heard these words before? Often this is how children are taught to get an adults attention when they need something. While they are polite words, they can still be interrupting words.

During our day in the classroom they is a beautiful hum of busy. Lessons are being given, children are working, teachers are teaching. At any given time we are needed to refill the snack bowl, get more tape, help someone in the bathroom, lead a game of I Spy, clean up a spill…the list goes on. Often we are giving lessons when we are needed for something else. If we taught the children to say excuse me every time they needed something – our busy hum would turn into a broken record of “excuse me.” In order to keep the lesson interruptions to a minimum, we teach the children to get our attention in a more peaceful manner. It looks like this:

If we are in the middle of a lesson, we ask that the child place their hand on our shoulder, and wait patiently. This way, we know they need our attention, but our focus can remain steady for the task at hand.

We then put our hand on top of their hand. This lets the child know that we acknowledge them, we understand they need our help, and we will be with them as soon as we can.

Once the lesson is complete, then we turn our attention to the waiting child and say, “Thank you for waiting patiently, what can I help you with?”

This is such a simple gesture, it communicates need and acknowledgement, teaches patience, and allows the time and space necessary to honor each child’s needs. Even more wonderful, is that you can do this at home too!

Mean What You Say

Saying what you mean, and then truly meaning what you say…. and following though can be tough sometimes. I had one of those moments earlier this week where I said something and before it was even said I knew what the outcome would be. It went down like this:

“Hewitt, let’s get dressed, we need to leave for school in 5 minutes.”

“Nope”

“Do you want to go to school in your pajamas?” (By the way, this option is totally fine with me, but I knew that it wouldn’t be so fine with him).

“Nope”

“Then, please come here so we can get you dressed and ready for school.”

“No!”

“Okay, if you don’t come now, you will be going to school in your pajamas.”

….. nothing.

I finished gathering everything I needed for the day which included clothes for Hewitt for the day; however, let it be known that next time, (and there will be a next time) I will not be bringing clothes for him to change into. As the “get the car alarm” song was playing on my phone, we all marched out to the garage and loaded up. At that moment Hewitt didn’t really seem to care that he was in his pajamas. We dropped my youngest son off at daycare, then proceeded on our way to school. Still, nothing, no reaction, no conversation. We were about 1 minute away from school and he burst into tears and shouted, “I want my clothes!” There it was. I knew it was coming. I just calmly repeated back to him, “You want your clothes buddy? I understand, we will talk about this more when we get to school.”

We walked into school hand in hand. He was a little teary. Inside my heart was aching for him too.

“But there is sand on my feet,” he whimpered.

“I know, that happens sometimes when we don’t wear shoes,” I calmly replied.

Once we got inside the school we sat at a table together and talked about everything that happened. He told me he wanted his clothes, I reminded him that we asked him to get dressed at home so he was ready for the day, and that he repeatedly said no. We talked about how next time he can either get dressed on his own, or with us when we ask him too, or he can spend the whole day at school in his pajamas.

I think the lesson is in there, though I’d bet real money that he’s going to be spending a day at school in his pajamas sometime. What’s more important is that he understands that I mean what I say. If I hadn’t brought him to school in his pajamas he would then know that my words don’t really mean anything. If there is no follow through, either with discipline or appreciation, then words have no value. I want my children to know that I mean what I say, whether it’s “If you don’t get dressed, you will have to go to school in your pajamas” or “I love you and care about you more than anything in the world.”