Today I picked Zion up and we wandered down to the school gym to help with the set-up for an upcoming program.

While I’m fairly wrapped up in the PTA and SAC goings-on, this is the first school program I’ve been involved with and it was an eye-opener.

In researching Montessori schools, we read a lot of things like:

On several dimensions, children at a public inner city Montessori school had superior outcomes relative to a sample of Montessori applicants who, because of a random lottery, attended other schools. By the end of kindergarten, the Montessori children performed better on standardized tests of reading and math, engaged in positive interaction on the playground more, and showed advanced social cognition and executive control more. They also showed more concern for fairness and justice. At the end of elementary school, Montessori children wrote more creative essays with more complex sentence structures, selected more positive responses to social dilemmas, and reported feeling more of a sense of community at their school.

This was written in the journal “Science” in 2006, and it sounds really great, right? But seeing it in action is a completely different experience.

So back to the program. We went to the gym to help with set-up. The after-school program was getting ready to begin their afternoon activities, and there was a teacher monitoring the restrooms from the hall. Zion had to go potty, and I worried that he would get thrown in with the after-school kids so I followed him and waited next to the teacher in the hallway.

A little girl stood in the center of the hallway, tears streaming down her face. Her placement told me this was more about making a public production than it was about being slighted, and I think the teacher felt that way too, but he dutifully asked what was wrong. She ignored him.

This went on for a few minutes – “What’s wrong?” with no response – and the teacher shrugged his shoulders and gave up. I didn’t blame him. I smiled at her and she glared at me. Ok, I thought, that was my effort.

As each student came out of the restroom, though, they stopped, put an arm around her, and asked what was wrong. This was not a cursory, doing-it-because-it’s-my-job kind of attempt – as I watched these students of all ages, kindergarten up to 6th grade, it was very apparent that each of them was concerned to see a student so upset. This was genuine.

I made another attempt when Zion came out. “Are you ok sweetheart?” No response. “Do you want to talk about it?” Nothing. “Do you want to talk to Zion?” She blinked! “He’s a really good listener.” Zion took her hand. “Would you like to go sit down?” Nothing again. “Are you just having one of those days where you need everyone to leave you alone so you can cry it out?” Slow nod – got it. “I have those days all the time, sweetie, you just hang out here and cry it out, ok? Come and find us if you need us.”

And we went into the gym. I didn’t even have time to ponder this when the next round hit.

Ms. Linda went to the after-school program and asked for help unloading materials out of the truck. POOF! Fifteen 5th and 6th graders appeared. The initial shuffle was comical and expected, with children running around like crazy people on crack.

After a minute or two, they organized themselves into a calm group of worker-bees, standing in a line handing supplies from the truck assembly-line style and carrying them into the gym to place them in an orderly pile.

I watched this with complete shock and amazement. I’ve worked around children for most of my life, and I knew from years of experience that any other school and any other group of children would be a chaotic mess for something like this. Not only had these children come ready and willing to help out – they had organized themselves into an efficient and effective workforce.

As they carried bag after bag through the gym, I said to my friend Bonnie, “This is unbelievable. You hear all of these things about Montessori kids being more socially prepared, yadda yadda, but I’ve never seen this in action. I’m completely amazed. I want to hire them to clean my basement!”

She laughed and said, “I’m not amazed anymore. I’ve been watching it for nine years now, but I guess it is pretty cool if you haven’t seen it. They’re really a big help.”

She talked about the opportunities the older kids have to help younger kids – the upper grades throw holiday parties for the younger grades, eliminating the need for parent planning; older children participate in programs to mentor younger children; they prepare presentations and lessons for younger ones – and it, in turn, provides a good role model system for the younger children.

I walked around the gym and took pictures as these kids erected tents, stabilized displays, built walls from PVC pipe, and ultimately completed the entire set-up.

I thought about the conversation I had with a relative yesterday about the Kansas City school district – “Do you think it’s wise to put him in an un-accredited district? Will it hurt his chances at getting into college? What about the crime problems? This superintendent won’t last – KC goes through superintendents like water.”

The same arguments over and over again. I know that Zion’s school is not representative of the entire district. I can’t imagine there are many schools with principals like Karen May, who work tirelessly seven days a week for hours that are unthinkable to most of us with 40-hour-per-week jobs.

This year the district offered special standardized test tutoring to students, made possible by federal funding. There was such an overwhelmingly huge district-wide response that only a fraction of the students who signed up for the program were actually accepted.

The response at Zion’s school? They set up their own program. This seems like a no-brainer for some people, but this is a federal program – an elementary school saw a need for their students, and they created an entire program to accomodate them. We’re not talking about basketball on Wednesdays.

We’re talking about teachers staying two hours after the school day ends to teach reading, English, and math skills to their students. It meant new lesson plans, new curriculum, extra time and patience – this was a huge endeavor.

So today I focused on hope. KCMSD is de-centralizing things at a rapid rate. They’re putting individual schools in charge of processes that have been handled at the district level for years. I can’t speak for other schools in the district, but I see pockets of hope everywhere.

I am hugely disheartened when I have those conversations – the ones I’ve been having for years – that begin with, “I can’t believe you’re subjecting your son to this.” They always end with me explaining that the reason KCMSD is in its current position is because people have abandoned it. It’s easier to walk away than work to fix the problem.

Days like this give me hope. They give me a reason to stay, to believe that a solution is close.

And let’s just be honest – it terrifies me that Zion is the future of our world. When I see these children working together in an organized and efficient manner to accomplish a goal, it makes me slightly less fearful. Maybe there is a future for our planet.

{see? I’m not always a pessimist.}