Margot Waltuch, who died in 2003, was one of the best known and dearly loved members of the senior leadership of the international Montessori community.
She was one of the last remaining Montessorians who actually knew and worked with Maria Montessori. She spent a long, productive life in Montessori education, setting down in her wonderful slim volume, A Montessori Album, many of her reflections and personal memories and photos of the children and schools with whom she worked.
In 1996 Margot wrote an article for the NAMTA Journal that described the typical day at the school with which she is best remembered, La Maison des Enfants in Paris, France during the years from 1933 to 1938. I believe that there could be no better description of the classic Montessori experience than hers:
“The children attended school all day. Sometimes we would take the cots outside for their naps. …
Sometimes at the beginning of the school year, when first meeting the children, it would be enough simply to let them talk. We would listen to music, or we would share some food, or simply go on a little walk and pick wildflowers. Presentations were much shorter and fewer than what are done with a new class today.
There was not a separation between outdoors and indoors. They were treated as one. No division should exist. Laughingly, we used to say, “There is never any bad weather, only wrong clothing.” The terrace was easily accessible for outdoor work. The only requirement for working on the terrace was to put on outdoor clothes when necessary. We worked outside in all weather.
Sometimes we would go out, and other times nature would come in. When a grasshopper would hop among the tables, that would be the start of a research. Magnifying glasses were all around. Little flowers were also on each table, freshly cut, water changed daily, and labeled. Many times the children would pull them apart: “Where is the stamen?” Children planted seeds and subsequently made graphs of plant growth. We always allowed time for observing and questioning.
Paris was an ideal setting. Oftentimes in the afternoon we went out simply to sit and embroider-to enjoy the sun and trees. No bell rang. No command was given. “Now it’s time for this exercise or that exercise.” Throughout the day, mental work and physical exercise were held in balance as a result of this constant contact with the seasons and the natural world.
Walking of the line was a daily occurrence about midday-often out-of-doors. This involved bringing out a little table with flags, glasses with water, and other things to carry. The children took a stick or small shovel and made a large circle or oval on the ground. Of course it was not perfect as an indoor line. Music played on the piano indoors, or sometimes we brought the phonograph out on the balcony. I was in the background, usually, observing but seldom directing. And yet informally this activity meant daily exposure to music, rhythm, and coordinated movement.
There is quite a contrast between enforced silence and silence “from within” the children. Children sometimes want silence-they play statues or hide-and-seek or simply sit opposite each other to see who can last the longest without moving or even smiling. They love silence and immobility and practice it spontaneously. …
Our children gardened, sometimes an hour a day. The materials were always there: wheelbarrows, rakes, hoes, shovels, spades, watering cans, and baskets. Children chose the activity. And of course, all knowledge takes off from gardening. You must choose a place for your garden. It must be flat, or the rain will roll away the seeds. Let’s measure for a space that can be well taken care of as opposed to a garden too big for total attention. Find a place in the sun. Plants need sunlight to make food. What to plant? Foods for salad, foods for soup, and foods to eat right off the plant-all these make for a garden of variety. …
The work that the children enjoy most is the harvesting, and because our school went nearly year round, the children could reap what they sowed. …
Through cooking, children are introduced to a whole new world of sensations-tastes, smells, colors, textures, blending and changing-all that cooking entails. They are given the opportunity to explore the otherwise forbidden realm of knives and fires. Working with the tools of cooking develops manual dexterity. And of course cooking and eating is an occasion for interaction with one another.
We had a full-course meal daily. We ate with the children and discussed their experiences in the parks, the museums, their parties, etc. They talked about future events and past events, always making laughter and jokes. The French children were masters of conversation at the table. Also typically French was the style of waiting on the table. The eating and talking alone usually took an hour.
Introduction of foods and their preparation is still another form of sensory exploration. Noodle-making, bread-making, peeling, cutting, grinding, chopping, slicing, grating, squeezing-these are not only ways of extracting from nature what you need to eat, but great builders of hand-eye coordination, sequence, and social life.”*
* Waltuch, M. (1996). The casa of Sèvres, France. The NAMTA Journal, 21 (3), 43-54.
