Month: March 2022

“We must give him the means and encourage him. ‘Courage, my dear, courage!”

It was often a topic of conversation amongst my Montessori colleagues: at least part of the “means and encouragement” was to help the child find their voice. This included learning to speak in front of a group, learning to wait their turn when sharing in a circle, and learning how to express themselves when emotions ran high. I wish I had a nickel for every time I sat with two children who were working through a conflict or hurt feelings. Those hours were mostly well spent and taught me a lot about the value of communication.

My Own Lessons to Learn

Something that didn’t seem to transmit to my communication practice was how to manage my own need for courage in conflicts. For years, I slipped into feeling victimized in nearly any challenge. I made up stories about the intentions of the people whose words felt like accusations or brought up painful feelings. It took me a few years of effort to truly own my tendency to hop into the Victim – Blamer – Rescuer triangle…also known as the Karpman Drama Triangle.¹

This victim-y perspective was keeping me from finding my voice, except in those very close, most trusted relationships.

We must give him the means and encourage him. ‘Courage, my dear, courage! You are a new man that must adapt to this new world. Go on triumphantly. I am here to help you.’ This kind of encouragement is instinctive in those who love children.

Trauma to the Rescue

Fortunately, I had a wonderfully wise physician who recognized the tip of my trauma iceberg. I’d been carrying around a fear related to the near-loss of my mother for more than 50 years. Every time I went in for some minor health concern, Dr. X patiently did all the tests. She’d reassure me that I was healthy, and reaffirmed that it was a good idea to follow up on my concerns. Then, one day, in addition to her usual encouragement, she suggested I might want to add trauma therapy to my self-care regimen.  

Some 60 months later, I’m reaping the rewards of peeling off layers of hurt and replacing them with self-acceptance. I would never have guessed how that shift would result in the courage I’d find when I hopped into that drama triangle, still my personal path of least resistance.  I’m experiencing a more stable state-of-mind, and loving the gift of peace that finding my voice and using it appropriately  is bringing to how I handle the inevitable conflict and frustrations of normal life. 

I coach a lot of teachers these days. They have faced an overwhelming sense of dis-ease among the members of their communities. No one has escaped the trauma of an interrupted life and that interruption has intensified behaviors and the emotional reactions to all sorts of situations. 

With each shared concern, I find myself asking what is wanted: What outcome? What do you want others to know? What do you want to say?  That’s when the fear shows up. The challenge to finding one’s voice is real. “I don’t think I can say that.”  “I’m afraid of how they will react.” “They already seem so mean. I don’t know if I can take the chance.” 

One of my friends, having just experienced the unburdening of having had her own courageous conversation, said it best. “It’s already bad. How much worse could it be?”  

Indeed…and the possibility of the personal reward is totally worth it! 

¹  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Karpman_drama_triangle

It is necessary for the teacher to guide the child without letting him feel her presence too much
so that she may always be ready to supply the desired help,
but may never be the obstacle between the child and his experience.

Maria Montessori faced obstacles…many of them. She was a female at a time when women had few rights and few opportunities. She was passionate about science at a time when the greatest career goal for a woman was that of teacher…and in her early years, she adamantly designed NOT to become that.

She fell in love with and became pregnant by a man whose conservative family values forbid him to marry her. At the height of a career that had made her famous by age 30, this monumental obstacle might have meant the last we’d hear of Maria Montessori.¹

But Maria made a different choice for herself. She chose to remove the obstacles.

Obstacles are Not Without Significance

The obstacle of an unwanted pregnancy was not the last she would face. In fact, it might seem that the series of obstacles she overcame throughout the remainder of her life might have led Maria to different conclusions about persistence, perseverance, and transformation. Her writings show us that she valued all of these, especially the required transformation for being a successful devotee of her method.

Montessori viewed obstacles as a natural part of living, common to us all, and significant for growth and achievement. For Dr. Montessori, the key to achieving one’s potential was experience. Her observations, deeply influenced by her own obstacle-laden experiences, had shown her that sensory experiences were the true foundation of learning, possessing the power to free the individual to achieve their potential. She held up Helen Keller and her teacher Anne Sullivan Macy as a stellar example of how sensory learning had unlocked Ms. Keller’s severe limitations and produced “a woman of exceptional culture and a writer.” ²

Which am I? Aid or Obstacle?

A recent social media debate got me thinking about obstacles. The discussion focused on the question of whether withholding recess as a “natural consequence” for lack of work during work periods was appropriate or successful. The debate ran the full gamut from absolutely never (“The children who struggle to work during work-time need recess more than anyone.”) to absolutely. (“This is the only meaningful tool [to the child] in the teachers toolbox.”)

I’m not here to open up the debate. It was clear that folx came to that discussion with their minds made up and were not generally about to change much one way or the other. But I wondered if considering the obstacles present in the situation might be the key to becoming aware of how we perceive our responsibility, and ourselves, as Montessori guides facing the obstacle of the child who doesn’t work or the child who doesn’t behave respectfully.

If our task is to remove the obstacles, wouldn’t this shift our thinking to focus on what those obstacles might be for the non-working child? Using our tools of observation, wouldn’t we spend our time watching and wondering about what experience might compel that child to become engaged? And then, wouldn’t we seek to discover how we could provide that deeply moving (sensory) experience without getting in the middle of it…without being “the obstacle between the child and his experience”?

When I think of the work-play/worktime-playtime relationships, I wonder about the sensory experience the non-working child is having during worktime. What experience might be hindering the child and keeping them from engaging in work? How does the threat of missing playtime influence that engagement or lack of it? How does missing playtime influence the student’s desire to work the next day? And how does the teacher’s decision to refuse playtime influence the child’s sensory experience of their life at school? Does it have the positive outcome desired by the guide? Or does it block the student from developing their own inner drive and self-discipline?

My early years in the Montessori classroom were guided by colleagues and mentors who set the rules and taught me the ways of the various schools in which I worked during those formative years. Sometimes guidelines like “if you play during worktime, you’ll have to work during playtime” were in place with the good intentions of helping children learn to focus and manage their time and their learning. Sometimes those guidelines worked. I suppose, in those times, the guideline was an aid to the discipline of focus and not an obstacle. Or was it an aid to fear of loss or an aid to awareness of another person’s power to dominate the outcome or an aid to acceptance of a social construct of working for reward? 

In the early days, those questions didn’t cross my thoughts. In time, my teaching practice became more confident and my trust of the child to show me their need grew. I’m not sure I have yet achieved removing myself as the obstacle…how about you?

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“Not words, but virtues, are her main qualifications.”

If these words were Dr. Montessori’s only directions, we teachers might feel mighty free to make up those virtues on our own. But of course, Dr. M wouldn’t leave us without some guidance, so the entire paragraph is worth a read:

The teacher nevertheless has many difficult functions to perform. Her cooperation is not all excluded, but it becomes prudent, delicate, and manifold. She does not have need of words, or energy, or severity; but she must be able to make prudent observations, to assist a child by going up to, or withdrawing from him and by speaking or keeping silence in accordance with his needs. She must acquire a moral alertness which has not hitherto been demanded by any other system, and this is revealed in her tranquility, patience, charity, and humility. Not words, but virtues, are her main qualifications.

I doubt I’d get any argument on the difficulty of our work, and I appreciate the acknowledgement that our cooperation requires careful consideration: prudence. I didn’t know, until I consulted “the google,” that prudence was once considered, in classical philosophy, as one of the four Cardinal virtues, undoubtedly something Dr. Montessori would have known as a result of her studies and the time and culture in which she lived.

The virtues of prudence, along with justice, fortitude or courage, and temperance or restraint, are woven into much of Dr. Montessori’s instructions for us teachers, especially where observation is concerned. After schooling myself with this new understanding of the vocabulary she chose in this passage, I believe I have a fuller understanding of the virtuous qualities that she requires of us would-be guides.

Still Our Virtues?

I wondered, “Do these Cardinal Virtues continue to guide our paths as 21st century Montessorians?”

I have just returned from a week-long trip in which I visited three very different and very dedicated Montessori schools in the midwest. While each of these schools did their best to practice respectful treatment of the child/student, I could feel, in the words of the guides, that their concerns for academic achievement were front and center in their minds. In their conversation and questions, it was the management of time and curriculum that permeated their thinking. The behavioral and social challenges, the very things that require exercise of those virtues, seemed not just out of reach, but nearly impossible to impact.

How could attention to the virtues held dear by Dr. Montessori, help these teachers in their day to day management of the children and their programs?

Once again, Montessori tells us…to Observe?

Why is it that Dr. Montessori always seems to return to this practice? Even in this passage concerning qualifications of the teacher, she slips this instruction right in the middle: “she must be able to make prudent observations.”

When asked about the frequency and consistency of this practice, not one of the teachers I met felt they were fully exercising this foundational practice. In a world of high-stakes value placed on specific academic success, within a distinct time-frame and applied across the board according to age, these dedicated teachers are not feeling able to manage the most important aspect of our method. None could really imagine sitting to observe for any length of time or routine consistency.

And so I offer, albeit briefly, a suggestion: Keep a tiny pad of post-it’s in your pocket (no bigger than the slim 1” x 2.5” or even the little squares) and jot down EXTREMELY brief notes of what you see throughout the day. (BTW: Be sure to include the date, time, and initials of the student on each note!) At the end of the day, you’ll have a stack of short notes to read, reflect upon, and to guide the actions you’ll choose in response to what you saw. You’ll be able to organize them in a way that will help you make informed decisions about the actions you’ll take. You’ll rest assured that your actions are based on data and informed decisions that go well beyond a recollection, an impression or a feeling. You’ll be making a real difference in the way you approach the whole child.

This method takes less time, relies on ‘facts’ more than memory, and can be shared with colleague, student and parent with confidence that your observation was not only unbiased but also reflective of more than a remembrance or an emotion.

There’s a hidden bonus, too. As you begin to manage these short, easy-to-implement observations and reflections, you may just find yourself taking a few minutes each day to actually sit and enjoy the occasional “formal observation” that has alluded you…and those virtues may creep into the forefront of your practice, too!

Wait a minute, Claudia…Why “Montessori PRACTITIONER”? Why didn’t you say Montessori teacher or Montessori guide?

That’s a great question and I’d ask you to take a look at that term: “practitioner.” By definition, a practitioner is “a person actively engaged in an art, discipline, or profession”. Well that certainly fits!  As a reader of this newsletter, you are actively developing your own art and discipline of Montessori, whether you consider it professionally or not!

And that’s why I see our work as Montessorians as a practice…an art to explore and carry out; continuously striving toward “mastery” of the discipline, but an accomplishment which will never be fully achieved.

I also see it as a practice, because there will be highs and lows, joys and tears, successes and failures, confusion and confidence. Any practice, like playing an instrument, doing yoga, or growing food or flowers, requires an ongoing desire for progress and the diligence to “truly work at it.”

That’s why I started Inspired Learning through Montessori Education. In the years since I said goodbye to working in the confines of a school, I’ve turned my attention to serving the Montessori community of practitioners, a community that includes folks from every corner of the world!

I was inspired to do this work by the trainers, coaches, and mentors who helped me along my own path from Montessori “admirer” to Montessori parent to Montessori guide and beyond. With each desire to grow more deeply into Montessori, my mentors helped me investigate the new branch on the path I was already travelling.

How are you “truly working at” knowing and understanding the Universe…the universe of Montessori education? How are you preparing yourself? What help do you need? This is why I’m here…to help you along your path.

Chances are, I’ve encountered your challenges at some point in my 35+ years of Montessori practicing.

• I’ve been the Montessori parent who wanted to know how to embrace the Montessori philosophy at home but struggled to understand some of the concepts that were foreign.
• I’ve been the “specials’ teacher who didn’t understand how to manage a group of self-directed students to pay attention to me for a 45-minute class.
• I’ve been the assistant that took all the math materials off the shelf to clean and put them back in disarray, without awareness of the order.
• I’ve experienced the incredible rigor of training, the hours of environment preparation, the challenge of students who lacked focus or resisted follow-up and the slow progress of a child with one kind of difference or another.
• I’ve been the administrator faced by angry parents and frustrated staff.
• I’ve been the school founder who wondered how we’d make payroll.

Through all these roles, I’ve faced pretty much all the highs and lows, and I promise you that I look back and say I’d never change a moment! Each of the ups or downs taught me something I have been able to pass on to the new generation of teachers and administrators who’ve crossed my path in training classes, conference workshops, or in the Demystifying Cosmic Education Mastermind.

Supporting people at all stages of their personal Montessori journey allows me to touch the future in a new way: helping those who help the children; helping those who want to understand the Universe and are truly working at it.

Thank you for being here! I’m glad to join you on your journey!

“You see things along the way and stop to look more closely.”

I had to look at his face to see if that was an acknowledgement or something else.

It was acknowledgement. Appreciation.

It was also right on.

I’m probably not the person you’d want along on a hike through the woods or at the seashore if you’re there to simply get your exercise on. Because my husband was right; I do that: Notice. Stop. Look closer. (Pick up. Examine.) Pause. Reflect. And, eventually, move on. I’m sure it’s annoying for some of my walking buddies.

But, it’s actually how I do most things, which has its down-side for sure. I’m a ponderer. A muser. (is that even a word?…Look it up…Yep! To a T.)

Being like this costs me time and attention…but I rarely miss a detail. Also, a quality that can be annoying for some and a real rabbit-hole thing that can take me off course and truly mess me up!

So, I do my best to temper these qualities and use them when they can enhance my day or my work…and put them on a shelf when focusing is needed. That can be excruciating, but necessary, if I’m going to accomplish my work.  

And that’s why I’m writing this little piece for you Montessorians out there….teachers, parents, leaders. Over the 35 years or so that I’ve been doing this work, I’ve probably run across more folks like me than those focused ones who always seem to accomplish everything on their lists.

I have this theory that we are the ones who, for one reason or another, were the daydreamers, processers, sometimes sideliners who were always thinking about some detail that no one else seemed to notice. Those details could take us off track. Make us behind. Cause us to be pulled in a direction that undermines our intentions.

And it’s probably the thing about Montessori that appeals to so many of us. It’s deep. It’s detailed. And those things are rewarding for us musers. As one of my trainers said at our graduation, “Montessori will eat you alive if you let it.”  It does…and in both good and not so good ways. So, we have to find a path that allows it to eat us alive on our own terms.

At this busy back-to-school period, when even seasoned teachers feel there isn’t enough time, I’m reading a LOT of online posts by tired teachers and parents whose exhaustion is causing them to wonder if they are doing the right thing, if they’re just not up to the task, or if it’s even worth it.

 

Let me say this first: IT’S WORTH IT!. But we dreamers, detailers, and ruminators, have to get a hold of ourselves. Otherwise, the shear amount of opportunity, the number of possibilities, will pull us off course and deepen our overwhelm.

So, here are those tips that help me stay on top of things…or at least keep them manageable, so I can end each day ready for the next one.   

1. Expect not to finish everything you hoped to accomplish….but praise the heck out of yourself when you accomplish any of them!
2. Prioritize your list by those things that give you some pleasure balanced by those that give you some pain. And cause you to procrastinate. Make getting to the fun stuff the motivation for completing the drudgery.
3. Stop and take breaks…at least one every hour or so…and during this break, take deep breaths, acknowledge the previous hour and recognize all the good that took place.
4. Have an end point to your “work” day and change the channel when it’s over. Do something to mark the end…even if it is to do a kitchen meditation. (I’ll save a description of that for another day!)

I do have a few little systems and mind tricks I use to keep me on track when I feel myself needing them, but, really, the four tips above help me maintain a mindset that leaves me feeling self-satisfied and ready for each and every day.

Give them a try! Develop them to suit yourself. Discipline yourself to stick with them. Then reassess and try again. It’s another new day…to stop and take a closer look. Oh, and by the way…take a look at that cool “heart-rock” over there! See, I did it again!

This reflection is about fear, specifically the tiny fears that shape our daily decision-making and choices, forcing us to maintain habits we’d like to change and keeping us from genuine growth.

Several years ago, my observation practice was re-energized through the work of Paul Epstein. After nearly 30 years in my own classrooms and 20+ years looking at the classrooms of others, my eyes were given the opportunity to see differently. Make note that I said, “given the opportunity,” because the transformation of my observation did not come about quickly or easily. And that’s what this short piece is about.

What I noticed was that repeatedly, and in spite of my desire to try these new ideas, I struggled to actually get myself into the observation chair. Something always seemed to “come up.” Or the moment wasn’t quite right. Maybe it was too late in the morning, or too early. It could be that someone stepped into my office and took up the time I’d set aside.

Conversations with my disappointed teachers heightened the sense of guilt about not getting into the classrooms as much as I wanted. I felt a pang of fear reflected in their frustrations. In an effort to improve, conversations with my own staff and other heads of schools and their staff revealed that I wasn’t the only one having trouble being consistently successful with observation.

Over and over the common problem was some sort of fear: fear of the children not working, fear that the classroom would get out of control, fear that not enough lessons would be delivered, fear that…fill in the blank. There were dozens of reasons.

So I began to live with the question of how I could support both myself and others to make observation, something we Montessori guides know is the foundation of our practice, (I mean, how can we “follow the child” if we’re not observing to see where she’s going?)…how can we make observation a habit. And not only a habit, but a pleasant one; one that we never want to miss?

And then I read this:

Our actions are most likely to revert to what is habitual when we are in a state of fear or anxiety. …We discount interpretations and options for action that re different from those we know and trust. We act to defend our interests. …Our actions are actually reenacted habits and we invariably end up reinforcing pre-established mental models.

It seemed that the habit that was keeping me, and, perhaps you, too, from designing observation into my daily tasks was being driven by all the tiny fears that infuse my habitual thinking: too much to do and too little time; there will be chaos; there will be too little work if there are too few lessons; observing means fewer lessons.

And so, I set out to change a habit. The first step was observing or “seeing” the fears that were holding me back. Each time I planned to observe and I was inclined to let something interrupt my plan, I asked myself, “What is stopping me from keeping my commitment? What fear is behind this stop sign?” Gradually, I began to tease out the fears. I wrote them down. I weighed them. I asked myself if they were real. The only way to find out was to face those fears and do the observation anyway. Only then would I know if the fears had been founded or not.

I encourage you to try this process to see what you discover. Make a plan. (I recommend you start with just a daily 5-minute or less plan…have everything ready so you don’t have to find your journal, a pen, a chair, etc.)

When the stop sign pops up, take a few minutes to find the fear. Then do the observation anyway.

Senge, Scharmer, Jaworski, and Flowers: Presence: An Exploration of Profound Change in People, Organizations and Society 2004; Random House New York

I was all prepared to launch into a Springtime series on flowers with some fun freebies that will have your children wanting to become botanists!  (If you got excited when you read that, have no fear….it’s still coming!)

But, as is often the case for me, the experiences of this week sent me off on a tangent, and this one’s time sensitive! So, here goes…

How do you model being a learner for your students?

What did you learn yesterday? Personally: I learned the distinction between equity, equality, and a host of other social justice vocabulary, framed in an interview with Dr. Derrick Gay; I learned that flexibility is a valuable asset when it comes to collaboration; I learned a new writing technique and that one can learn a LOT from a 6-word story.  For example, here’s one attributed to Heminway: FOR SALE: Baby Shoes; Never Worn.  Yeah, I know, sort of heavy.

That’s where I learned something else: I make a lot of assumptions. That 6-word story made me think of a lost child; perhaps lost dreams. Certainly heartache. But what if it were something different?

What if it were that the shoes were planned for a boy, but a baby girl arrived? What if it were that the parents bought the shoes, then had a child who preferred toes in the grass…and they decided her passion for a barefoot experience was more important than forcing shoes on her feet? Wouldn’t that be a joyful statement of seeing the child within and allowing her to be herself?

I also learned how much I love my work as an Instructional Guide for the Center for Guided Montessori Education. (There is no plug coming; I promise!) I learned, from an experience that allowed me to “see” more deeply into them and myself, that the CGMS model of training allows me to learn both with and from my adult learners. As I read their reflections and assignments this week, I got to see more deeply into their lives through a writing activity: a Very Short Story (VSS) of 6 words or less. Their VSS offerings allowed me to see, to become curious, and to seek support for writing my own VSS. Later this week, when I send their weekly note, I’ll share mine with them in gratitude for their teaching and inspiration. I will let them know that they modeled courage and vulnerability and that inspired me to write. I will thank them for being dedicated learners, whose words encouraged me to give this new writing style a try.

Which brings me to this morning’s reflection: How do YOU model being a learner? I suppose that begs the question: ARE you a learner? What hobby, what experience, what passion are you pursuing? Do you share it with your students? Modeling a passion for learning may be your greatest opportunity for inspiration in your classroom.

The enthusiasm I felt sharing my passions for music, history, botany, geology, baking, sewing…a seemingly endless list of possibilities… has connected me to a lifetime of sharing and inspiring students, young and not-so-young, in a lifetime of joyful, joy-filled days.

What will you learn today? How will you share it? How will it be just the inspiration your students need?

“The real preparation for education is a study of one’s self.
The training of the teacher who is to help life is something far more than the learning of ideas. It includes the training of character; it is a preparation of the spirit.”

As I gently returned to social media after a self-imposed hiatus, this question from a homeschooling mom grabbed my attention:

“Every weekend I work on the presentations for my kids. But I realize I’m the one deciding what they should do each week in every subject. If I ask them what they want to learn, they don’t know…they just follow what I tell them to study.”

My initial thoughts were to respond with ideas about Cosmic Education and how it can be used to jump-start and motivate children of any age. But there were already a few well-written responses in that vein, and something in my own thoughts, those that aligned with previous responses, wasn’t sitting right with me. So, I paused.

Long story short, even my emotion-laden dreams had me working through my discomfort subconsciously. And, as is often the case, a bit of clarity came through in my morning meditation.

The challenge of consistent motivation may be a universal human problem. In recent months, with the pandemic and personal grief my family has faced, I’ve been struck with motivational challenges that, honestly, felt pretty foreign to me. For most of my life, I’ve awakened ready to go, with more things on my To Do list than is physically possible in my allotted 24 hours.

But 2020 and the turn of the new year have offered emotional challenges that set me on my heels. The gift of quiet that “stay at home” mandates initially offered, paled when staying home began to feel more like isolation. I questioned my life work, my time management, and, most importantly, my sense of self. So, for several weeks, I limited myself only to those tasks I felt simply must be accomplished, adding in as much down time as possible, and filling it with rest: resting my body, resting my mind, resting in nature and away from electronic influence as much as I felt I could afford. Waiting to find myself again.

“When the student is ready, the teacher will appear.
When the student is truly ready…the teacher will disappear.”

Today, I was that student, and after the weeks of rest, reflection, continued but minimized work, and even some therapy, my teacher appeared, the lesson was received, the turmoil lifted, and I knew I was “back.”

What was the clarity I re-discovered today? That yearning and motivation walk hand in hand toward the discovery and execution of our cosmic task. When we yearn, we are revealing our innermost selves. Yearning helps us discover, and accept, our passions and overcome our insecurities and doubts.

Passions lead to intentions. Intentions lead to development of one’s will. Will propels actions and actions lead us to fulfillment of our yearnings.[1] That fulfillment is our destiny; our cosmic task.

As I sat silently in meditation, among the thoughts that floated in and out, were the yearnings of that homeschooling mother of three. This caring mother already understood the problem: that she is directing the learning; her children are not.  Her desire is to know what to teach, but her pupils have not yet become students. How can she teach when the student has not arrived? Where should she turn for guidance in motivating?

Dr. Montessori’s words returned to my thoughts and the opening quote was easily found: The mother must turn to a study of herself. She must discover her desires and walk them through the ancient wisdom to her destiny. She must model this for her children and prepare a space where they can do the same for themselves.

Observe them. Listen to their unspoken words. Offer a wide range of experiences. Observe some more. Offer more. Imagine your offerings as the many tiny bits of tinder that wait for the spark that will grow into a roaring fire. As your children share in your passions, as they begin to catch your spark, they will show you what they want to know and what they need from you as their teacher. The problem will be transformed from how to motivate, to how to manage the depths of their interests.

New challenges will inspire new yearnings…and once again, that homeschooling mother, just like all of us “yearners,” will become the student and the teacher will appear.

^[1] Taken from the Upanishads: “You are what your deep, driving desire is. As is your desire, so is your intention. As is your intention, so is your will. As is your will, so is your deed. As is your deed, so is your destiny.”