"Good morning, my name is Sarah."
At the door to my new classroom, the small five-year-old shyly held out their hand for me to shake. Welcoming me into the world of Maria Montessori.
When I first saw the advertisement for a Montessori primary teacher in Auckland, I was immediately drawn in. I had been without inspiration and was rapidly losing interest in teaching in my position at a state school. It was the middle of a teaching crisis in New Zealand, with more teachers leaving the profession and less people training to become teachers.
My hours were long and encroached on personal time with my partner, family, friends, and most of all - myself. At night I rejoiced because I had more time to catch up on marking, planning, resourcing, report writing and other tasks teetering atop my mountain of paperwork. In the mornings I was increasingly waking up later and later, absent motivation to get myself to school until the very last minute. My list of things to do never ended, no matter how hard I worked.
I had to admit it wasn't all negative; I had fabulous relationships with the children and my collaborative teaching partner had also become a close friend; we had no professional or personal struggles when working in close proximity with each other. Quite the opposite. However I knew that if I stayed, it would only be for those two things, and the cons outweighed the pros. During breaks I started to peruse job vacancies and by chance or fates aligning, a new school name scrolled into view.
A private school just outside the grasp of the state. Local. So close to me that I lived on the same street, just a 10-15 minute walk away. A huge factor considering the awful traffic conditions of Auckland. And then I saw the word Montessori and my heart sank. Although I would've loved to be trained in Montessori method, I was not.
But before I clicked out of the advertisement, I read "registered New Zealand teacher, no Montessori experience necessary." Perhaps they wouldn't mind that I was a new teacher with only two years under my belt? Maybe my interest in alternative education, yogic philosophy and wellbeing would stand out? Or maybe it was a cliched, too-good-to-be-true moment.
Then I remembered a statistic that a friend told me about once. Women were less likely to apply to a job if it didn't 100% match what they could do. Men would take more risks with the jobs they would apply for, and therefore be more likely to get the jobs they wanted but didn't have all the requirements listed in the job advertisement.
I applied that day and was called into an interview. The school itself looked nothing like a state school. A very large, old, two-storey, renovated villa with two main classrooms. It felt like a home, to the point where I had to remove my shoes before entering.
A few months after I started working in this new (wonderful) school, I built up the courage to ask the Head of School why I was chosen for the job out of the applicants.
The Head of School thought about this for a moment then replied, "You have a Montessori heart. Being a teacher in a Montessori school isn't just about knowing all the materials and systems. In your interview and from what we've seen from you already, you already have been teaching with that heart in your other school. But of course, we'll give you training!"
"The children are at the forefront of every decision and adults are stepping out of their way, surrendering ownership of learning and growth into their students' hands."
I have been pondering this idea of a 'Montessori heart' for some time since this conversation. It reignited hope that the state school system - albeit somewhat broken - is permeated with teachers who carry this 'heart', where the children are at the forefront of every decision and adults are stepping out of their way, surrendering ownership of learning and growth into their students' hands.
But how can these state school teachers put their 'hearts' into teaching without sacrificing their wellbeing, their principles and their beliefs due to government restrictions and regulations?
I don't have the answer to that yet. However, I have experienced the sheer joy in teaching without the shroud of unrealistic expectations and mountainous workloads. I want every teacher to feel that joy.
And that's why I'm here, writing to you.
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