What She Showed Me

Thoughts & Reflections

I think I have a fairly passable understanding of Montessori. I love this work, I was a Montessori student myself, my family raised me in an accidentally very Montessori manner. I fully appreciate that I will NEVER be done learning about children, the nature of childhood, children’s capacities, or this pedagogy we work within.

This is my daily work; this is my life’s work.

And yet, I am reminded, sheepishly, of how much of an adult I am; how much I have adapted to the adult world, how different the child world is.

I found a child to help me unload the dishwasher. Particularly our youngest children love Purposeful Work, the soothing contribution that comes with activities like Practical Life materials. The things we call chores.

I often complete this task myself, quickly glancing over plates to make sure they’re totally clean, throwing flatware where it belongs, tucking the door up with a quick tap of my foot.

The very young child who helped me humbled me.

She carefully took out each plate, stacking them upon each other. She was careful, but also a bit giddy with the bright clink of glass against glass. She is still young enough to be enamored by her exploration of this magical world, all its sensory stimuli.

The flatware is where she really grabbed my attention. Where I would take them out in handfuls, tossing them carelessly on the tray (you know, since they’ll be sorted later), she precisely took out each. Spoon. Each. Fork. She laid them side-by-side. She aligned them carefully, each oriented the same way on the tray, carefully spaced. When she ran out of room, she carefully slid them together, not smashing them without thought, they way I might. When she came across an adult utensil, she truly stopped in her tracks. This is not right! After careful consideration, she handed it to me.

As she pushed the cart down the hall, contented with her work, satisfied that she had made a contribution and happy to be helping her friends, I felt like I had been put in my place.

Rightfully so.

Thank you for reminding me that everything matters.

Everything Matters.

We have carefully curated this special space just for you. Each tiny fork, each low window, each small table has been put together for you. Your development is amazing. The way you approach the world with wonder is inspiring. You are simultaneously enough, complete as you are, and an infinite of potential.

I need to remember to ask more why questions. To see delight in every day. To be giddy over a pleasing sound.

“You are simultaneously enough, complete as you are, and an infinite of potential.”

To take such pride in my work. Everything matters! The way the cloths are aligned, the way the books stand in the library, the way the surfaces shine.

Some days, I think I’m doing pretty good. I like things tidy. I know how much it matters to have every part of every material always clean, perfect, ready.

And yet, I still take four plates out of the dishwasher at a time.

Everything matters. It always matters. Whether you are around, Small One, or not. Whether you are watching me or not. Whether you will see it or not.

Because this whole work, everything I do, it is all for you. Not only at school, where I am preparing this classroom, but my choices outside of work as well.

Whether I recycle or trash this can. How and even if I vote. Which organizations I choose to support. It all matters.

Thank you for reminding me. I promise to be more careful. With the forks, and with my self.