Most children are taught how to speak. Very few are taught how to listen.
The ability to listen is an essential skill. Maria Montessori, who developed the game known as “Silence”, understood the need to slow down, to listen carefully, and to pause. She worked with children who had hearing impairments and first used this practice with them. She would stand at the back of the classroom and quietly say the name of one child, then another. When a child heard their name, they were asked to walk towards the teacher. For children who were almost deaf, this was an extremely challenging exercise.
Later, Montessori introduced the Silence game in a classroom of typically developing children. She met a mother with a baby and asked for her help. The mother agreed. Montessori brought the infant into the room and showed the baby to the children.
“Look how calmly the baby is lying,” she said. “Can you stay just as calm?”
To her surprise, the children became quiet almost immediately. She noticed how much they enjoyed playing Silence. From that moment on, Silence became an essential part of the Montessori kindergarten program.
Why is this game valuable for children?
The game develops a child’s listening skills and their linguistic intelligence. It supports self-regulation and calm attention. Children learn to notice and distinguish sounds, to regulate the volume of their own voice, and to practise self-control. When Silence is experienced together, it also creates a shared sense of connection. Montessori believed that the Silence game supported children’s spiritual development.
If you would like to explore Montessori theory and other key educational theories in more depth, you can find them explained clearly in my theory pack here:
Invite the children to sit on the floor. Suggest that they keep still and play a quiet game together. Silence does not need to be enforced; it settles on its own. Explain that when we sit calmly and remain quiet, we can hear things that are impossible to notice when we are shouting or talking.
For example, the sound of cars, leaves rustling, an aeroplane engine, the wind, neighbours’ voices, or a washing machine running.
Stay in silence for one minute. Then, in a whisper, ask the children what they heard. Which sounds caught their attention? Were they loud or quiet? Pleasant or irritating?
There was a year in my career as an early childhood educator that I now think of as one of the darkest. Not dramatic. Just heavy.
In that same year, I became a single mother. I was adjusting to a new long-daycare environment, learning new routines, new expectations, new relationships. My body was struggling. I had frequent migraines. I was exhausted in a way that sleep did not fix. I was also made redundant from another role. On top of this, I was trying to hold together paid work, part-time tutoring, writing, and caring for an eight-year-old child who needed stability, presence, and love.
It was too much.
I remember falling asleep everywhere. On the couch. Sitting upright. Sometimes between tasks. At the time, I did not have the language for it, but now I know these were signs of burnout, nervous system overload, and quiet anxiety. Many educators will recognise this state. You are still functioning, still caring, still showing up, but your body is waving a small white flag.
What helped me during this time was not a quick fix. It did not remove the struggle or magically give me more energy. What helped was a shift in how I related to myself.
I began reading Brené Brown’s work, and I devoured it. Her writing on shame, vulnerability, and wholeheartedness gave me language for experiences I had never named before. Brown writes that shame thrives in silence and self-judgement, while empathy and connection loosen its grip (Brown, 2012). That idea alone was a turning point. I realised how harsh my inner voice had become, especially around not coping “well enough”.
At the same time, I was listening to audiobooks and talks through Sounds True. I listened to Kristin Neff, Tara Brach, Pema Chödrön, and other Buddhist teachers. These teachings did not ask me to be positive or strong. They asked me to be honest.
Kristin Neff’s work on self-compassion was especially grounding. She explains that self-compassion involves three core elements: kindness towards oneself, recognition of common humanity, and mindful awareness of suffering (Neff, 2011). This mattered deeply to me. Instead of asking, “What is wrong with me?”, I slowly learned to ask, “This is hard. How can I respond with care?”
Pema Chödrön’s teachings added another layer. She speaks about staying with discomfort rather than running from it, and about the courage to remain open even when life feels uncertain (Chödrön, 2006). That idea did not make my life easier, but it made it more spacious. I stopped fighting my exhaustion as a personal failure. I started seeing it as a signal.
These ideas did not remove my need for rest. They did not make the workload lighter. But they helped me stay afloat.
Here are a few takeaways that carried me through, and that I now share with other educators.
First, suffering does not mean you are weak or unsuited to this profession. Caring work is emotionally demanding by nature. As Neff reminds us, struggle is part of being human, not a personal flaw (Neff, 2011).
Second, self-compassion is not self-indulgence. It is a form of responsibility. Brené Brown argues that sustainable care for others begins with honesty and boundaries, not self-sacrifice at all costs (Brown, 2010). For educators, this matters. You cannot pour endlessly from an empty cup.
Third, you do not need to fix yourself before you are worthy of rest or kindness. Pema Chödrön writes about meeting ourselves exactly as we are, without waiting for improvement (Chödrön, 2006). That idea was radical for me. It allowed me to pause without guilt.
I am sharing this not because everyone will be walking the same path I did, but because many educators are quietly carrying more than they show. If you are feeling tired, overwhelmed, or disconnected from the joy that once brought you into this profession, you are not alone.
You are doing meaningful work in a caring profession. You deserve the same compassion you offer to children every day.
“This isn’t just a game—it’s a real treasure chest of geometry, combinatorics, logic, and pattern recognition tasks,” says the author of a hugely popular child development book.
There are quite a few varieties of mosaics available—plastic, magnetic, ones with letters, and ones with little pegs. For mathematical purposes, a rectangular mosaic board with colourful peg buttons works best. This way, we develop not only spatial thinking and concentration, but also fine motor skills. Ideally, you should have several boards (it’s convenient for working with multiple children, and you can also “connect” boards to each other). The larger the pegs, the better. As children grow, you can reduce their size.
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Following a Pattern: Pegboard
The first task is to create a figure following a pattern. Usually, these come with the mosaic sets, but if you don’t have any, you can make up patterns yourself by drawing them with markers.
Mathematician Alexander Zvonkin recommends starting with the principle “from simple to complex.” First, lay out an axis on the board with pegs of one colour—a vertical line running down the middle of the field. This line will be the “mirror,” and different figures will be reflected in this mirror.
Build a simple figure on one side—a square, rectangle—and ask the child to repeat it on the other side of the “mirror.” You can vary the colour, size, and position of the figures. To check how accurately the children managed to mirror your figure, take a real mirror. If it’s the same, everything’s fine. If not, let’s try to fix it.
In the next session, you can change the axis position: first, make it horizontal, then diagonal. The figures you create can become progressively more complex. Make multicoloured diamonds, create butterflies. Check with the mirror. Symmetry, according to Zvonkin, is a rich topic—definitely search online for photos of snowflakes and other examples of symmetry in nature, or look in H. Weyl’s book “Symmetry.”
Learning to Write
According to Maria Montessori’s definition, reading is the transformation of sounds into symbols. That’s exactly what we’ll do with the mosaic. We’ll compose keywords, and then move on to sentences. This is especially useful when learning a foreign language.
I give the child cards with so-called sight words or basic words, and they copy them for me on the mosaic. The spelling rules pass through the “hand.”
Why This Works:
The mosaic board is a brilliant multisensory tool. Children aren’t just seeing letters and patterns—they’re building them, peg by peg. Each placement requires precision, planning, and physical engagement. When a four-year-old recreates the word “the” or “cat” with colourful pegs, they’re encoding that word into muscle memory. The tactile experience of pushing each peg into place creates a stronger neural pathway than simply writing with a pencil.
And for symmetry work? There’s something magical about the moment a child places that final peg and realises their butterfly’s wings are perfectly balanced. Mathematics becomes visible, tangible, and deeply satisfying.
Young children find it easiest to grasp new knowledge when it’s “tangible,” “visible,” and, as N. Zaitsev likes to say, “ear-audible.” If you make this simple learning tool, it’ll be much easier to explain number composition to your little one. Plus, this kind of math lesson strengthens the small muscles in your child’s hand.
So, take several sheets of sturdy cardboard, a set of clothespins, and a marker. On each cardboard card, write a number from 0 to 10.
First, demonstrate: zero is no clothespins at all. One is one clothespin, two is two clothespins, three is three clothespins, and so on.
Once they’ve got that down, you can move on to studying number composition.
Three (3) can be shown this way. Or it can be represented as 1 and 2, as 2 and 1, or as 1, 1, and 1.
Understanding the Number 4
Looking at your photo, I can see a brilliant example! The number 4 card has clothespins attached showing different ways to compose the number 4.
How can we make the number 4?
4 = 2 + 2 (two red clothespins on one side, two blue on the other)
4 = 3 + 1 (three clothespins on one side, one on the other)
4 = 1 + 3 (one clothespin on one side, three on the other)
4 = 1 + 1 + 1 + 1 (four separate clothespins)
4 = 2 + 1 + 1 (and many other combinations!)
The beauty of using different colored clothespins (like the red and blue ones in your photo) is that children can visually distinguish between the different parts that make up the whole number. They’re not just learning abstract math—they’re physically building numbers with their hands, seeing the patterns, and feeling the weight of each composition.
This hands-on approach makes math concrete rather than abstract, which is exactly what preschoolers need. They can experiment, try different combinations, and discover mathematical relationships through play. And the pinching motion required to attach clothespins? That’s excellent fine motor practice that will help with everything from writing to buttoning clothes.
Try this activity with your child, and watch as those little fingers work and that mathematical mind grows!
Once upon a time, I worked at a Montessori kindergarten in southeast Melbourne for over 6 months. I finally found time to put my impressions down on paper. I had read many books by Maria Montessori herself, monographs about the method, as well as textbooks during my studies at Monash University. I’d also encountered Montessori as a parent. When my son was a year and a half old, some friends and I enrolled in a “parent and toddler” group in Moscow. Misha loved it, but “parent and toddler” is more of an entertainment really—you can’t fully understand the system that way. A child needs complete immersion, ideally attending a Montessori kindergarten for half a day to a full day, at least three days a week.
So, my first impressions. To make this review more interesting, I decided to add sections: “How It Should Be” (that is, what a Montessori classroom should ideally be like—the principles, ideas, and my expectations) and “How It Actually Is” (what I saw in our Montessori kindergarten)! Out of respect for the children’s and their parents’ privacy, I’ll only publish photos of children at work if their faces aren’t visible.
SPACE
How It Should Be
Order is the fundamental principle of Maria Montessori’s approach. Therefore, the space should be clean, bright, and beautiful. Furniture and equipment should be child-friendly, chairs light enough for children to move, shelves accessible and convenient.
How It Actually Was
The Montessori kindergarten where I worked fully complied with Montessori “laws” and principles. It was a beautiful mansion, a real palace for children. Very bright, with natural sunlight rather than artificial light, thanks largely to enormous windows and glass doors. Wooden shelves, chairs, and tables created an atmosphere of naturalness. Add to this the magnificent pines and eucalyptus trees outside and a handcrafted playground covered with special wood chips.
EQUIPMENT
How It Should Be
A prepared environment filled with Montessori-created materials, arranged by zones: sensory, practical life, mathematics, language, geography and world, biology, art.
In such a prepared environment, children learn independently; the teacher’s role is to create the appropriate learning environment. When working with materials, the child returns them to their place on the shelf. Each child has their own workspace—a mat for floor work or a table.
How It Actually Was
All the materials were absolutely new, high-quality, and pleasant to study and work with. However, children didn’t always put them back in place—they often scattered materials and lost “parts.” We teachers had to intervene in the process and “give presentations.” It was very heartening that children threw napkins in the trash, cleaned up sand after themselves, swept the room, dusted, poured water into pitchers, and watered plants.
You could say that the environment was indeed incredibly effective for developing independence. https://www.youtube.com/shorts/JcmVuQUOzBM?feature=share
THE CHILD
How It Should Be
Montessori believed children have an innate inclination toward learning, thanks to their absorbent minds.
Additionally, there are certain sensitive periods in a child’s life when they are most receptive to absorbing particular information or mastering certain skills.
Montessori education is child-centred, not curriculum-centred. In a Montessori classroom, each child develops at their own pace.
How It Actually Was
Although some special group lessons for everyone existed, children were generally free to choose what to do.
While three-year-old Evie poured water from one small pitcher to another, four-year-old Alex wrote in his notebook in capital letters “I love my mum,” and Harper worked on addition.
Most of the time, children were busy with activities, but I noticed that Montessori’s philosophy often needed Vygotsky’s added to it, with his zone of proximal development. Suggesting a child do something together (because it’s social and communicative), offering new materials or a new approach, or providing help.
What I Didn’t Like
I didn’t like that sometimes we had to raise our voices at the children. They wouldn’t listen. The impression from Montessori’s books is that directresses (as Maria called teachers) are role models for children and, consequently, speak quietly and calmly.
We often had to “bark” at the children to stop bad behaviour.
What I Really Liked
Personally, as a fan of Vygotsky and the sociocultural approach, I wasn’t thrilled that Montessori lessons are supposed to happen in complete silence. Children love to talk, and through communication with adults, they acquire language. Moreover, following Vygotsky, I believe that language and consciousness are closely connected.
Montessori undoubtedly develops self-regulation and self-control. Children learn to move carefully around the room, to listen for the bell as a signal that the teacher has a special message. They learn to take things and return them to their places. And neatness too. Of course, we can’t overlook that Maria Montessori developed amazing mathematics materials. These materials—the “red rods,” “spindles,” “geometric cabinet,” “golden material”—make it possible to give preschool-age children fundamental knowledge of mathematics
