Parent Perspective: Our Montessori Journey

In late January, I stood in baggage claim at Hobby Airport awaiting the return of my high school daughter from her J-Term trip to Jamaica. Alongside me were the familiar faces and feelings of Post Oak parents who had been equally missing their children over the past 10 days. We exchanged similar stories of understanding why our child did not have a cell phone on the trip. By admitting our own discomfort of not being able to reach them, we are experiencing the ongoing challenges of letting go. I feel connected to these parents, lean on them when I need support, and call them for advice. They have been on this Montessori Journey with me.

In many ways, deciding to embark on the Montessori way of learning with my children has been like exploring a new country. I had to leave my familiar framework of learning and traditional classroom expectations behind. Montessori required me to step off the highly congested freeway of traditional education and be willing to let nature and nurture guide us on “the road less traveled.” I look for signs of readiness in each of my children, rather than follow the turn signals of standardized education. 

In some countries, drivers sit on the opposite side of the car, which can be confusing to the traveler. Montessori asks parents to sit in the back seat of their child’s educational experience and let the child drive their education. Many back seat drivers become frustrated, but those who allow themselves to enjoy the ride experience a different view of the process and develop a new trust in and appreciation for their child. Before our watchful eyes, the child is becoming more skilled and confident as they maneuver the potholes and sharp turns themselves.

The best way to learn about another country is to learn the language and immerse yourself in the culture. I have learned a new way to speak and listen to my children. I will always remember watching Susan Tracy, a former teacher in the infant community, get down on her knees to look eye to eye with the child she was addressing. When I would ask her eagerly how my child was doing, she would gently maneuver the conversation to let my child tell me, never speaking for the child as though she was not able to express herself.

Visits to the Primary classroom allowed my children to be the tour guides of their educational experiences. I could not direct their learning. I had to sit awestruck as they used materials I did not recognize to teach concepts I humbly realized that I never had fully grasped in my own traditional education.

I once asked one of my children, “Who is the smartest person in your class?” recalling all of the charts with gold stars, academic award days, and the subconscious self-ranking I did daily in my traditional school. I was met with thoughtful silence. It gave me a minute to answer my own question. Much like asking someone’s age, weight, or shoe size, I was asking for an arbitrary number to define a person’s value…out of habit. My children do not know how to do that nor does it cross their minds to want to. Instead, my children appreciate their own pace of learning, the power of diversely talented teams, and the peace of not being defined by numbers…especially someone else’s numbers.

As Middle School approached, so did the question of how long would we stay in this foreign education? Should we return to the standardized way of packaging and ensuring our child can “make it” in college? In many ways, it would be easier to fully embrace Montessori if the sounds and lights from the education freeway could not be heard. Each ambulance siren of “what college will they get into” or “are they getting enough math” can be jarring, tempting me to climb into the front seat to skillfully merge us back onto the familiar freeway. Ironically though, that’s when the real lesson of Montessori is taught to the parent.

In Jamaica, my daughter walked through the dense vegetation of a rainforest without a map, each step freshly created by a native Jamaican with a machete. She kept wondering “Where is the map? Where is the path? What if we get lost?” At a rest stop, she studied the man leading them, obviously the most valuable member of their pack. She then realized that he didn’t need a map or a path nor did he fear getting lost, because he had a mastery of his environment based on his skills and experiences. He has a proven and tested internal compass and can forge his way. Montessori trusts a very young child to use a knife to prepare snack for themselves and their classmates. Montessori gives a high schooler a metaphorical machete to clear their own obstacles, define their interests, and carve their own course. Montessori gives me, as a parent, the sharp and pointed reminder to follow my capable and confident child, to get out of their way, and enjoy this journey. 

From the February 2019 issue of The Post