Barbara Gordon Montessori School

In the last issue of BGMS Connection the Head of School and guides wrote movingly about observation. Why do we talk so much about it, and drop the word so frequently? Everyone knows how to observe, right? Well, maybe. But there is a huge chasm between looking and observing. Dr. Montessori said pointedly, “Observation does not refer to seeing."¹ What is the significance of observation?

The difficulty lies not so much in what you see, as in what you don’t see—what lenses you take off, what judgments you suspend, and what openness and receptivity you bring to the observation. We are so clouded by expectations, so saturated by our own experience, that if a surprise appeared before us we might not even notice it. These surprises abound wherever there are children. Yet we adults are pretty certain what we will see, and what we expect to see, and what we want to see. Our experience and our expectations, then, serve to blind us to much of the cold hard reality.

Cristel Ruiz shared some insights with me this week. Cristel is one of our three Assistants to Infancy (toddler) guides and she is guiding our first Parent-Infant Series. With Cristel’s expertise we have created an environment which is developmentally and hygienically suited to the needs of children two months to 16 months of age. Her task is to help parents (nannies, others) appreciate optimal child development while participating with the child in the specially prepared Montessori environment. The parent’s role is not only to observe the details of the environment, but also to learn to see the environment through the child’s eyes. Training is required for observing child behaviors which otherwise might be missed.

Cristel told me about a sunlit room and a child scooting away from the adults. The nanny was about to intercept her when Cristel suggested, “Just watch.” Not even old enough to crawl, the child, giggling and reaching out with her small hands, was chasing her shadow as it danced across the floor. This gem was almost missed. At another point, the child was staring into the distance, and the nanny seemed ready to bring back the infant’s attention. Again, Cristel admonished to wait and watch. The child was staring at a music box on the wall. The nanny pulled the cord to turn on the music box, and the child’s face lit up with a smile. Entranced, the child approached the music box to make it play again—following the universal mantra, “More!” In both cases, there had been an automatic and well-intentioned assumption about the proper role of the adult for supporting the child. In both cases, the urge momentarily caused the adult not to see the child’s focus. Intercepted, both occasions turned out to be magical.

The same well-intentioned adult habits and the same clouds of interpretation cause us to misunderstand the urges and behaviors and reactions of children whether they are one, three, six, or 12. What, then, is needed for sharper, truer seeing? Suspension. Suspension of action, suspension of expectation, suspension of interpretation, suspension of assessment and judgment. There’ll be time enough for judgment later.

That’s lots of challenging words. But it’s fair for you to ask how am I supposed to put that to work for me? What am I supposed to do with it? As Montessori guides our training includes a healthy component of adjusting our attitudes to appreciate the everyday miracle of childhood. In a word it’s called humility. I could provide pages of documented Montessori admonitions on humility. Instead I will share her remarks about her own experience of being with children. It’s a quote I shared with you in a recent article.

“When I am in the midst of children I do not think of myself as a scientist, a theoretician. When I am with children I am a nobody, and the greatest privilege I have when I approach them is being able to forget that I even exist, for this has enabled me to see things that one would miss if one were somebody—little things, simple but very precious truths.”²

This quotation is worth reading again and again by teachers and parents alike. It holds hidden truths and it is instructive for all of us in our work with children. What does it mean to become momentarily ‘a nobody’? What would it imply ‘to forget that I even exist’? Would you try to achieve that state if it empowered you ‘to see things … precious truths’? Precious truths, that is, about your child.

Stepping outside oneself, to see with unencumbered eyes, is no small feat. Some may achieve that state without effort, but most of us have to cultivate it through self control. It requires intense inner discipline. When you have that experience you recognize its authentic clarity. You really ‘see’ without the lenses of accumulated experience, without blinders, without cultural filters. You suddenly ‘understand’ things about the child that you never before noticed. The child’s own interior logic shines through, and you see the purpose behind the behavior. You see the child’s anticipation, curiosity and exploration. You see focus and concentration that you’ve never before witnessed. It’s rich, magically rich. You wonder has this aura always been here, or has the child suddenly stepped into the light. The child in its glory has been there all along. It is we who have stepped out of darkness into light.

Practically speaking, observation is a matter of personal discipline. It begins with a desire to see truly. It requires ongoing awareness and thoughtful decision making. It may be a tool that you turn on and turn off, but it works better when it becomes a way of life. It is easier to begin this practice in a neutral or special environment such as your child’s classroom. The skills, after cultivation and practice, may later be incorporated into everyday life.

These ‘break into’ techniques of observation were a topic in the two week AMI Training of Trainers seminar I attended last month at Loyola University Maryland. Many reported that in their teacher training they were asked to take a fruit from a basket, say tangerines. It’s your tangerine and you get to know it for a week or so, writing observations each day. What can you say about a tangerine? Quite a bit, if it becomes a formal assignment. If all the tangerines are put back into the basket, can you find ‘yours’ tomorrow?

Another common observation assignment was to spend a specified time at the zoo. Select an animal, sit down with pad and pencil, and begin observing. When my classmates selected monkeys, snakes, birds and such, I settled down with an elephant. What’s to describe? There was a dry sandy yard, hay, a watering place, high fences, open space, and not a lot else besides July heat. There were three elephants whose eyes bore gazes of deep knowingness—or so I deemed it. And they moved very slowly. A cloud of dust rose when a giant foot hoisted and lumbered through a single step, almost frozen in time. Behavior and relationships seemed a mystery. It was a long two hours. Yet I gained some insight into the life of a zoo elephant.

By contrast, observation in a busy Montessori classroom was heaven. Throughout the weeks of observation, each day had a specific assignment. Observe the whole class, absorbing it indiscriminately. Watch one child for the entire period. Observe the activity in one part of the room, like Practical Life. Select one piece of work and observe its use. Observe adult-child interactions. Watch only children who are engaged in deep concentration upon a piece of work. Track the teacher’s movements, gestures, expressions and demeanor. Watch the rise and fall of energy throughout the three-hour or six-hour period. And most instructive—chart your own reactions and responses to what you are observing.

It becomes easier to suspend judgment when you sit for a long period of time. Annoying situations and behaviors, on the other hand, intensify. All the while, the observer is curiously detached. Montessori teacher training was a brilliant experience. But it was only in the observations that I really began to understand the life of children, having forgotten most of my own childhood.

As anthropologist and Montessorian I have spent decades using directed observation as standard procedure. I attest to its value and deem it a virtue. I encourage you to cultivate the practice wherever you may, for as Dr. Montessori said,

“Human progress began when man learned how to observe… Progress and advancement in science did not depend merely on seeing things, but on seeing them armed with special preparation, special mental training… [a method] by which the object under study becomes sharper, keener, and more easy to penetrate.”³

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1 Maria Montessori, Creative Development in the Child. 1939/1994, Kalakshetra, vol. 2, p. 115.
2 Maria Montessori, Education and Peace. 1949/1972, Kalakshetra, p. 135.
3 Maria Montessori, Creative Development in the Child. ibid.

© Larry Quade, 2009. All Rights Reserved