I’ve been spending more time this month in Primary Montessori classrooms, mostly due to circumstance, opportunities consulting at schools, and a change in role here at the Cornerstone School. After completing a Coaching Course (shout out to Elizabeth Slade and Montessori Public in Action) and finding a new teacher to work with the Junior Class on the farm, I’m afforded more time to observe in classrooms. As an Admissions Director, this is a task I should have been doing all along. 

Last week I found myself at a small school in Louisville, Kentucky. Eight children were already engaged in their morning work cycle when I opened the door so very slowly and eased into the nearby wooden observer’s chair. The focus of the group, including the teacher (along with my stealth ninja skills) was strong enough that my entry and presence was undetected. A blonde and braided three-year old was working her way through a basket of small towels, raking them across a washboard with its end in soapy water. She carefully rinsed it in a small tub of water before clasping them onto a clothesline with wooden clothespins. A four-year old worked his way through the knobbed cylinders while two friends on the floor were matching labels to planets on a circular rug. 

Right before my time was up, I watched the girl in practical life carefully tip the waste water into a bucket, and I could practically here her reciting all the steps necessary in her head. It was flawless. The walk to the sink was equally deliberate, methodical, and present. Her steps were measured, her gaze locked onto the water line sometimes coming precariously close to the top of the bucket, but never cresting the edge.  Later, the teacher caught me in the hall and I thanked her for inviting me into her classroom. She leaned in. “I knew the observation was going well because you were smiling almost the whole time.”  “Really”, I responded, “I had no idea. I think Primary classrooms are my happy place.” 

The flight from Louisville back to Boston was routed through Detroit. With a layover there, a late flight to Logan, and then a bus ride to southern Maine, it was three in the morning when head it pillow and my wife Sandi murmured a sleepy acknowledgement. There was a Parent Coffee Chat that morning and I made my drowsy entrance at 8:45. That whole trip log resulted in “note to self” regarding late night travel. In any case, I was also scheduled for an observation in a Primary classroom that morning (I know, right?). Coffee cupped in hand, I settled into a very comfy, perhaps too comfy, observation chair and took in the environment, and took in the immediate deja vu. Had I not been here 24 hours earlier? I soaked in the peace, the gentle voices, the methodical pace. And no more than ten minutes in, a first-year boy, done with his watercoloring of a map of the united states, made his was across the room from a work table to the sink. His steps were measured, his gaze locked onto the waterline sometimes coming precariously close to the top of the bowl, but never cresting the edge. I was flat-out exhausted, not gonna lie. But I think I was probably smiling.