What Montessori Gave Me- That I Didn’t Expect
Written by Little Oak Montessori parent Susan Elliott
I thought Montessori would be about my kids—how they learn, how they behave, how they grow. There were rumors of some great math system going on. Great, I thought, we need childcare. Sign us up.
Now, after 4 years of seeing my kids develop and taking the time to learn the ideas and practices behind childhood development, I’m seeing how much I’ve evolved as an adult as a result. That it would shift how I show up for myself, for my family, and for my community.
What I didn’t expect is how long it would take to see it.
In the first year, it just felt… different. Calmer, maybe. Thoughtful. But subtle. Not something I could easily explain or point to as working in the way we often want things to work (e.g. quickly, very quickly).
Even after two years, I don’t think I could have articulated any of this.
It’s only now—four years in, with one child in year 2 at Elementary and another just beginning again in Children’s House—that it feels like something has come into focus. Not gradually, but almost all at once. Like an ocean wave of clarity that was building the whole time without me realizing it.
And what I see now is less about what they’ve learned, and more about who they’re becoming. Who we all have become (parents, too).
The first shift: identity, from the inside out
I see my kids exploring their own ideas of self. What does that even mean, you say? Let me explain.
This looks like making up their own games and superpowers, rather than shooting webs from their hands and playing a character they’ve seen (even with some of the inevitable spidey paraphernalia in our home.)
While characters from shows and movies are inevitable, they don’t have to be the primary mode of play. In fact, it’s really helpful when they aren’t.
There’s a difference between imagination that is fed and imagination that is formed. And I didn’t realize how much of early childhood is shaped by what’s being handed to them—characters, scripts, storylines—until I saw what it looks like when that input is limited.
I also now see that even the “small” amounts of screen time for preschool kids in most daycares lead to a lot of behavior issues. Not in a dramatic, obvious way. But in the way their play changes. The way conflict shows up. The way they relate to each other. We saw it with our kids before Montessori started.
Now, what I see instead is a child who is building something from within. This is so obvious now that I’m starting to see myself take more ownership over my identity as well, probably because I’ve been trying to model what that looks like for them for the last 4 years.
It’s slower, maybe (perhaps painfully slower). Quieter. But it feels more like ownership.
And it’s made me realize that identity, at this age, isn’t something we teach. It’s something we either protect… or interrupt.
The second shift: work, play, and contribution
I see my child asking (begging) to help with daily housework. Starting young.
They’re so fresh, with no preconceived notion of “work” here. Chopping veggies—cool. Sweeping and cleaning—sign me up.
It’s only when I treat the tasks as grueling work that they begin to see it that way, too.
Now, after 4 years of practice, I’m able to slow down and remember that this work can be lovely, purposeful, and a gift to my family and the people who share our space. And the kids see it this way too. They even, sometimes, clear a guest’s dishes.
“Work” now means many things for our family.
There’s work that energizes. Work that calms. Work that nurtures. Work that creates. The work is different forms of play. And the line between work and play starts to dissolve into something else—purpose, pride, knowledge. Knowledge of self, of others, of the world.
And maybe most importantly, I see what staying committed to something looks like over time.
Sure, we still have to remind them to brush their teeth 300 times each night. But, four years in, there’s ownership too. Exploration. A relationship to effort that isn’t forced—it’s chosen. (Ok, sometimes it’s forced, let’s be honest.) But they do want to help me make dinner almost every night. So, that’s a win.
The third shift: what it asked of me
Perhaps one of the most unexpected results of having my kids in Montessori is the realization that the same obstacles to behaving well, or living well, exist in my adult life too. Ooooh, I have an aversion to boredom too! Wait, I can’t communicate because I’m feeling so angry right now too!
The “parent education nights” that first felt like a mandatory sentence to my already busy life have become beacons of support and grounding throughout the year. They help me bridge my own behavior to that of my child’s.
Like learning to regulate my emotions. Or making boring life chores an intentional practice with more equanimity. Or talking less and being silent more.
This brings me patience and peace—which, it turns out, you need in abundance to raise kids, combat inflation, pursue career satisfaction, sustain a marriage, and basically everything else.
But this didn’t happen automatically. It came from being in an environment that constantly reflects something back to you:
Slow down.
Pay attention.
Respect what’s happening here.
And realizing how often I wasn’t doing those things, but returning to do it a little better every time.
The fourth shift: the gift of going slowly
Most of my parent-friends know that kids need less busyness. We’ve all heard about the benefits of free play, of unscheduled time. We’ve probably seen how our kids need quiet breaks.
But how often can we actually give them that when we aren’t accustomed to going slowly ourselves?
Montessori has given us this—but only through practice (and many, many reminders).
Our lives are busy. The default mode of operation can lead to some really harmful places for our brains and our hearts. It takes effort—or at least intention—to create something different, for ourselves and for our kids.
I can say all day that I want a lifestyle that relishes the present moment. One that values the essential work of taking care of ourselves and others. That makes space to understand our emotions instead of rushing past them.
But in reality, that is really hard.
I don’t know how to do it yet. But Montessori feels like a cheat code here. You kind of plug into a system that supports you to actually live this way.
I want to raise my kids in a home that believes purpose, intention, and joy can appear in any action, big or small. If I didn’t have Montessori to remind me, I’d definitely slip into the default mode a lot easier and do what seems easy in the moment (screen time, too many activities, more action, more busyness).
I stumbled into Montessori. But it has been one of the biggest grounding, nurturing, and joyful aspects of my parenting journey. I’m so grateful we’re here.