Being Present

by Kristi Medley, Director of Education

This year in June, my first group of 3-year-olds will graduate from high school, and move onto college. As a new Montessori teacher returning to CFMS in 2001, my training had been excellent, but it was those children, over the course of our three years together, who really taught me how to be a teacher.

Once on the playground, I saw two of the girls arguing. They were in their 3^rd year in the classroom together. They had always been close, but as they neared the age of 6, the relationship was changing. The conflicts were bigger, deeper, and more frequent. In retrospect, I know now that they were shifting into that elementary age, when how to be together, how to respect each other, and how to be friends become more conscious questions for them.

Their voices grew louder, and S. ran over to me, shouting, “A. isn’t listening to me!” Together we went over, and I dropped down to their level. I said to them, “A., S. has something important she’d like to say to you. Are you ready to listen to her?” And with each girl facing each other, and me by their side, they began to talk in earnest. I can’t remember their exact words, because honestly, none of the words made sense to me. Whatever the words were, they went something like: “A., I didn’t like it when I was going to be a gray squirrel and you said ice cream tastes good.” A. nodded knowingly, and replied, “I heard what you said. I didn’t like it when you chased the rabbit, but it’s the birds that have the acorns.” A., “I heard what you said.” And back and forth they went, laying out all the wrongs that had taken place between them, and listening to one another.

To me, the conversation was completely incomprehensible. But they were in tune with one another. And as they finished, they simply smiled and ran off together, devising new complicated games and laughing.

Our strategy in that situation was the same then as it is today. We give the children tools to talk and listen to each other. And if someone isn’t fully participating in the conversation, a mediator steps in to help. Often, the mediator’s role is simply to be present and listen. At other times, the mediator helps children find the words they need to express themselves, and reminds them how to listen to the other person.

My natural inclination is to want to fix the problem for everyone, to come up with a solution. I want to say, “You do this, and then you do this, and then everyone will be happy again.” But that’s not the way conflict works. That moment between A and S made that so abundantly clear to me. I couldn’t even make sense of the words, much less solve the problem for them. All I could do was be present and remind them of the importance of talking to one another.

As adults, we want to make the road smooth for our children, to take away all of the strife. We want to solve all of their problems. But it’s an impossible task. And with our good intentions, we often steal from them those moments of greatest growth—those moments of conflict where they find their voice, feel heard, and find empathy. I’m so thankful to that group of children, for teaching me that lesson. And seeing them now, as the beautiful, confident, almost adults they are becoming, only makes that all the more abundantly clear.