Final Narrative

            As I head out the door on Monday morning, I remember the ongoing construction on the Worcester line. I open the Workflow widget on my phone and tap a yellow button that reads, “Check Alerts.” Within an instant I am taken to the MBTA alerts page, where I read that miraculously, my train is running on time. On the train, I check Google Forms for any notes from families before the school day begins. I learn that one child is experiencing a sore throat, and another child is arriving late due to a dentist appointment. The latter child’s parent requested an email confirmation, so I send out a quick response on behalf of the teaching team: “Thank you for letting us know! We hope the appointment goes well.” 

            The 8:15 arrival time is here before we know it. As my co-teacher sits at the door to greet our students, I plug my phone into the classroom stereo and open Spotify. After some browsing, I play the Peaceful Piano playlist to set a calm tone in the room. Gradually the children enter, and after some hellos and small talk they begin choosing their individual works, placing them on tables or rugs with care. An array of activities are out, from pouring pitchers of water back and forth to counting hundreds of tiny glass beads. As I look around the room, I notice one child has not chosen her work yet; instead, she is staring out the window at a birdfeeder. I approach her and ask what she sees. “There’s a bird on the birdfeeder!” I look out the window and see a starling picking up Cheerios with its pointed beak. I ask her, “Would you like to identify it?” She nods enthusiastically, and we fetch the iPad. 

            I open Bird ID on the device, and dictate a series of questions to her. “How big was the bird?” With some thought, she says it was almost as big as a robin. “What colors did you see?” She saw black and yellow, but it was mostly a shiny black. “What was it doing?” It was eating Cheerios on the birdfeeder. Having entered her answers into the app, I show her a potential list of birds and ask, “Do you see your bird here?” The first result is an American Goldfinch, but she says it has too much yellow. We look at the next result: a European Starling. “That’s it!” she says enthusiastically. Together we scroll through information about this bird, and she contentedly listens to its song. 

            Later in the morning, I feel a hand on my shoulder. A Kindergarten student who has been working with a puzzle map of Asia all morning asks, “Can we listen to the radio in China?” I close Spotify and open Radio Garden in the phone’s browser. He thoughtfully drags the simulated globe around, rotating it until he finds Asia. He pinches the map, zooming out to spot China’s immense form, then zooms in. In the Eastern portion of the country, he finds a station named Chinese Music World. Through his selection, our Peaceful Piano playlist has been replaced with something equally calm but student-curated: Chinese classical music. He smiles and returns to his map as his peers work along to his chosen radio station. 

            I take some time to sit in the nearest available seat and observe the classroom as a whole. At a one-person table nearby, I notice a child shuffling through a stack of photos. She is preparing for dictation work, but has no paper in front of her. I already know what this means. Soon she comes to me and asks, “Can I dictate on the iPad?” I ask if I can see which photo she chose: it is a person in a dance studio, dressed as a giant chocolate chip cookie. I open Voice Memos on my iPhone and triple click the home button to enable Guided Access. She taps the red Record button and begins storytelling. “This person is also a cookie. He has chocolate chips and he is very soft. He is learning how to dance, because cookies don’t know how to dance by themselves.” I listen in as she improvises a descriptive story. She speaks for about a minute, then presses the red button once more. The recording is saved for her friends to hear later, if they so choose. 

            The scenarios described here are not a far departure from a typical day in my classroom – the main differences lie in the tools being utilized. While Montessori education is deeply rooted in the senses, allowing children to experience concrete learning, the future classroom can allow for other methods. With the explosion in technology that has occurred in the last decade or two, integration of newer mediums is worth considering. With some oversight and careful thought, digital resources could be integrated as a complementary approach to the existing curriculum, just as the examples above illustrate. 

            Reading Alan November’s vision of the future classroom, I was immediately reminded of Montessori education in a number of ways. Despite some differences in methodology, the broader philosophical implications largely align with my goals as an educator. Both philosophies emphasize the importance of autonomy and purpose in a child’s work. These are crucial components in helping a young child’s development as they build intrinsic motivation. Apart from essential lessons and scaffolding, adult intervention can and should be minimized, allowing the teacher to take steps back and observe children learning independently. Through their work and socialization, the children are creating a connection to the broader cultural landscape around them, and simultaneously building community in their own classroom. The child of both the Montessori and future classroom are encouraged to become global citizens by building their own awareness, while spreading it wherever possible.