The Charleston Montessori Fountainhead School is tucked away on Meeting Street. Approaching the door to the primary classroom, it is easy to forget the Charleston traffic that rushes behind you as you walk up the clean, creaking porch steps.
The children looked up immediately, noticing their new visitor. I introduced myself to the teacher, a woman originally from Russia, who was trained in the Montessori method during her time in Italy. She gazed around the room and, after gesturing to a corner where I could place my bag, said "It is better if you sit down...it is better if you are on their level right now." So I sat, in a small wooden chair next to a shelf of puzzles and plants.
Two children on the carpet, their workspace delineated by a small blue mat, were placing wooden circles of increasing diameter in one oblong wooden platform. A young toddler watched as his older companion deftly ordered the circles, correcting his mistakes.
Two boys roamed around the room, finishing puzzles and picking up new activities in a flurry that directly opposed the unbreakable concentration of a girl nestled in the reading center.
Another child sat in the snack area, helping himself to a plate of blueberries and graham crackers, which he had taken from the refrigerator.
Three children had involved themselves in the reorganization of the bookshelf, due to one child's frustration with the absence of the right leveled reader. The teacher gently stepped in. "This is what happens when materials are not put away in their place. Perhaps you can make sure that this won't happen in the future."
I made my way to the art center, separated from the rest of the room by a narrow entrance. Two industrious 4-year-old artists were in conversation about their work:
"You painted over your name."
"That's okay. I know that I want a lot of paint and so I did it on purpose."
It is this attitude of purpose and direction, of self-motivation and independence, that defines the classroom environment. My conversations with the students remain brief, as their attention strays to their work.
What I observe is the free time; later in the day children will have a collective lesson in Russian language, and continue with their thematic unit, birds (art projects, puzzles, coloring pages, all have a bird theme). During the Russian lesson, one boy is allowed to continue work separately, eventually joining the lesson at his convenience. Another girl silently leaves the circle, grabs some gloves from her cubby, and returns to the circle to continue participating in the lesson. The level of self-regulation is not unlike a typical 3-6 year old classroom; however, each child appears to self-regulate in a manner that differs from other classroom observations I've made.
The Russian language lesson is the only bit of direct instruction I observe. The role of the teacher in this classroom is support. One lead teacher and one assistant aid students in finding work, reaching snacks, and bathroom trips. The teacher circulates around the room, stepping in as requested. She reads with two students who ask for her company, but otherwise her role is that of an observer; however, unlike me, her familiarity with the students and her understanding of the Montessori materials allows her to scaffold the progress of her students; for example, making the suggestion to her young writers that the step beyond creating words would be rewriting them in a journal. The children quickly lose interest in that next step; however, the foundation has been laid for future work.
The children looked up immediately, noticing their new visitor. I introduced myself to the teacher, a woman originally from Russia, who was trained in the Montessori method during her time in Italy. She gazed around the room and, after gesturing to a corner where I could place my bag, said "It is better if you sit down...it is better if you are on their level right now." So I sat, in a small wooden chair next to a shelf of puzzles and plants.
Two children on the carpet, their workspace delineated by a small blue mat, were placing wooden circles of increasing diameter in one oblong wooden platform. A young toddler watched as his older companion deftly ordered the circles, correcting his mistakes.
Two boys roamed around the room, finishing puzzles and picking up new activities in a flurry that directly opposed the unbreakable concentration of a girl nestled in the reading center.
Another child sat in the snack area, helping himself to a plate of blueberries and graham crackers, which he had taken from the refrigerator.
Three children had involved themselves in the reorganization of the bookshelf, due to one child's frustration with the absence of the right leveled reader. The teacher gently stepped in. "This is what happens when materials are not put away in their place. Perhaps you can make sure that this won't happen in the future."
I made my way to the art center, separated from the rest of the room by a narrow entrance. Two industrious 4-year-old artists were in conversation about their work:
"You painted over your name."
"That's okay. I know that I want a lot of paint and so I did it on purpose."
It is this attitude of purpose and direction, of self-motivation and independence, that defines the classroom environment. My conversations with the students remain brief, as their attention strays to their work.
What I observe is the free time; later in the day children will have a collective lesson in Russian language, and continue with their thematic unit, birds (art projects, puzzles, coloring pages, all have a bird theme). During the Russian lesson, one boy is allowed to continue work separately, eventually joining the lesson at his convenience. Another girl silently leaves the circle, grabs some gloves from her cubby, and returns to the circle to continue participating in the lesson. The level of self-regulation is not unlike a typical 3-6 year old classroom; however, each child appears to self-regulate in a manner that differs from other classroom observations I've made.
The Russian language lesson is the only bit of direct instruction I observe. The role of the teacher in this classroom is support. One lead teacher and one assistant aid students in finding work, reaching snacks, and bathroom trips. The teacher circulates around the room, stepping in as requested. She reads with two students who ask for her company, but otherwise her role is that of an observer; however, unlike me, her familiarity with the students and her understanding of the Montessori materials allows her to scaffold the progress of her students; for example, making the suggestion to her young writers that the step beyond creating words would be rewriting them in a journal. The children quickly lose interest in that next step; however, the foundation has been laid for future work.
