A time for everything

There is a time for everything.

There is a time to live,

and a time it die,

a time to reap,

a time to sow,

a time to celebrate,

and I time to refrain from celebration.

Autumn is a time for plants in the Midwest to complete their life cycle. Many go out in a blaze of glory by changing from a more ordinary green to brilliant red, orange or yellow. Others just fade to an earthy brown. The grass in front of my house, pictured above, gets heavy with seeds. The blades strain and bend under the weight heavy heads.

The weeds out back are eagerly sending out seeds attached to small clouds of white; they take flight in an effort to keep their life cycle going another year. Just as eagerly, we try to cut them down to prevent them from taking over the more desirable bluestem grass and wild flowers we prefer.

I so enjoy the changing seasons!

Montessori

There is a time for everything. This is so true in the Montessori environment. We like to have a predictable schedule that helps the children normalize. A consistent routine makes for a classroom that runs smoothly and children that work happily. Lots of interruptions can make it hard for a child to get into that beautiful zone of concentration we like to see in our classrooms.

Early in the fall we may think that normalization will never come. The young three year olds may be missing home, they may cry when mom or dad drop them off. The work cycle may be shorter than we like, leading to more frequent and longer group activities than we are striving for.

We must be patient and observe. Montessorians know how important observation is. We step back, and look at the whole picture the classroom gives us. It is easy to get ‘too close to the forest to see the trees’ when working with children. We are trained to see beyond that. We look for signs of restlessness and discord. We become good at ringing the bell that brings everything to a halt. Slowly through out the fall the work cycle becomes longer, children begin to concentrate, and normalization sneaks up on the classroom.

Like the grass in front of my house, the children’s heads become slightly heavy, they bend a little, and they do beautiful work.