When I first delved into Montessori philosophy, I found it noteworthy that so much attention was given to the selection of materials and the arrangement of the environment. And when I discovered places like Pinterest, a goldmine for someone in my particular spectrum of creativity, I began to recognize the look that Montessori seemed to give off: an orderly, beautiful space; low shelves; baskets; books; and activities arranged with intention.
Honestly, I still want to create a Pinterest-worthy space at home, as well as in my classroom.
But over time, I began to understand that there is a difference between recreating the appearance of Montessori and understanding its spirit.
If I reduced Montessori practice to carefully curated materials and a particular aesthetic, I would be limiting the philosophy to a certain kind of home, classroom, generation, culture, or geographic setting. And that didn’t quite make sense to me. Children can thrive in many different environments.
So I began asking different questions.
What do I want this environment to accomplish?
How do I want the people in it to feel?
And what might be getting in the way of those things?
The first thing I realized is that the physical environment was visible, tangible, and relatively easy to understand. I had thought that preparing the environment meant finding the right things to put into it. I hadn’t considered how much preparation might involve taking things away. For me, this meant carefully considering what my son was actually using and getting rid of what was no longer serving him. It also meant creating space for ample movement.
At home, this meant giving my son a few carefully selected activities that he could see, reach for, and choose when he wanted to engage with them. Whether that meant a Pinterest-worthy shelf, a windowsill, or simply a thoughtfully prepared area of a room.
The point was the freedom and autonomy the environment could provide.
The other realization came through an ordinary experience with my son. I remember one afternoon when my son was working on an activity while I was in the kitchen cleaning. He asked me for some milk, which I provided.
Then he asked me for some cheese. I provided that too.
Then he asked for some water.
Okay, I told myself. Wait a minute.
I knew my son was capable of getting these things himself. I just hadn’t prepared the environment for him to do so. In fact, I realized that I had often told him “no” whenever he came near the kitchen.
And I began to wonder:
What if part of preparing the environment was preparing a home in which I didn’t have to spend my day saying no?
That question shifted something for me.
I started to think less about how the environment looked and more about what it allowed my child to do. Could he participate? Could he make choices? Could the environment communicate, in its own quiet way, you are capable of doing this?
With all these reflections in mind, I realized I had thought I was preparing a home for my child. Perhaps one of the greatest mind shifts in my Montessori journey has been realizing that I am preparing a home with my child in mind.
A Moment for Mama
Sometimes preparing the environment means making room.
Not just room on a shelf or space on the floor, but room for our children to move, explore, choose, and try.
And perhaps room for ourselves to pause and let them.
What might you make room for this week?