Last fall, we had Liliana in a local Montessori school.  I was ecstatic.  I’d done my reading on Montessori philosophy (and my homework on Marie Montessori), and I was convinced that my child would soar to the moon, being surrounded by such an exquisite (and accepting) take on learning.

Still.  In our situation, we received very little communication from the teacher, and the information we did receive was sporadic and false–at least what we knew to be true about our child.  Liliana was disinterested in talking about school.  Unenthusiastic.  Indifferent.

This wasn’t my child.  Not the one who craves everything new!

After voicing our worries, and waiting to see if the administration would make changes, we decided to pull her out.

This is not the fault of the philosophy of Montessori.  I know what Montessori is supposed to look like.  No, the school was going through a rough time, and it showed, all the way down to the teacher-student interactions.

I’ll keep it simple.  We found a new school for Liliana.  On the VERY first day, Liliana was trumpeting that she didn’t want to go back to the old school.  Her vigor and happiness returned.  Now, she loves her teachers, her friends, her projects.  She’s learning Spanish and her alphabet and how-carnations-turn-colors-when-placed-in-colored-water and all about space (can you say rocket ships and planets?).  Yesterday she came home, exclaiming, “I planted seeds, Mom.  I just dropped them into the dirt, and they’re going to grow and get REALLY big!”

Which is probably the norm for preschools that are doing things correctly.

My point is this.  I agree with Susan Engel’s piece in The New York Times, which calls for sustained conversations and extended play.  In the past three months of being at this new school, Liliana’s mental and verbal skills have skyrocketed.  And I don’t think we can chalk it up to oh-she’s-reached-that-developmental-stage-now.  Yes, she has, but now she has teachers who are offering up interesting information, and her little brain is absorbing it all, ravenous for it all.

Example: Liliana’s teacher was laughing the other day about how Liliana and another girl had been playing “kitchen” at the Dramatic Play station, and how they were regaling each other with darlings and honeys.  “Mom, I have to go do art now.  I’ll be right back!”  “Okay, sweetheart!”  She said it was the funniest thing.  See?  This communication…this imagination is what I’m talking about.  I want that for Liliana.  She’s learning the give-and-take of conversations, of friendships, and what better place to learn it (other than home, of course)?  [You could argue that you could get this, just as nicely, at home with siblings, and you’d be right; however, I think you’d be hard-pressed to come up with as many activities as this, unless, of course, you’re a home schooling parent, which in that case, I bow to you.]

I’m telling you.  The difference is like night and day.

And when a child is happy, how can you not be happy?

Speak of the devil.  Here she is, on our walk yesterday, posing in a get-up of her choosing.  [Thanks to three of her aunties for the dress, the cashmere shrug and hat…]