The Montessori approach centers on hands-on learning, child-led discovery, independence, and social-emotional growth. The mixed-age groups foster peer mentoring, and children are encouraged to care for their environment and each other. Teachers act more as guides, providing gentle support and modeling calm, respectful behavior.

The Montessori kindergarten I observed operates on a fixed and thoughtfully structured daily routine. Children are welcomed between 7:30 and 9:00 AM. Upon arrival, they can choose to have breakfast, which is already prepared and laid out on the tables. The food itself is not cooked in the kindergarten but is delivered by an external company with which the kindergarten has a contract.

The children are organized into three main groups: the "Sunshine" group, which includes mixed-age children(24); the "Moonlight" group for even younger children(24); and the preschool group called "Ogre," which is further divided into two subgroups. One week, half the children participate in activities in the preschool classroom, while the other half remain with the Sunshine group. The roles are switched the following week. There is also a nursery(9) included in the kindergarten in question.

After breakfast, the children engage in free play with dolls and some toys that replicate real-world objects, such as kitchen and bedroom zones, animal toys, and more. This is followed by a transition to Montessori games and later to structured activities led by the teacher for about an hour. Then they go to the bathroom to wash their hands and enjoy a snack consisting of fruits and vegetables. Next, they change into their outdoor clothes and go to the yard for about an hour of free play. When they return, they change clothes again, wash their hands, and gather for lunch.

Following lunch, beds are already laid out in the classroom. Each child has a personal bed with their own blanket and pillow. During lunch and sometimes rest time, soft classical music—Debussy, Chopin, Mozart, or even restaurant jazz—is played. Teachers read English stories and help the children settle in by gently petting their backs or heads. Toys are placed on tables before rest and not allowed in bed to preserve the calm atmosphere.

Teachers work in two shifts, one until 3:00-3:30,and another after that time period. It allows parents who finish their work late to leave their children for a longer time and take them after they finish their work. The kindergarten also offers extracurricular activities, lessons in chess, yoga, football, folk dance, rock’n roll and sensorimotor therapy sessions. From the age of five, every child is evaluated every six months to monitor their development and detect any gaps or special needs.

Instead of weekly topics, each day is assigned to a different focus: science, art and crafts, language, nature, or physical education. This variety brings balance, engages different areas of development, and keeps the routine fresh and exciting for the children.

Math activities included calendar exercises and understanding numbers by breaking them down (e.g., 26 = 20 + 6). Children matched numbers to visual cues on wooden boards or built towers with beads. I especially liked these tactile approaches—they make abstract concepts like addition or place value more concrete and visible. They also support fine motor skills and hand-eye coordination while naturally developing mathematical thinking.

Another activity to teach them the concept of numbers and addition was represented by placing beads and beans in front of them. It’s such a simple yet effective tool. I was impressed by how children could manipulate real objects to visualize quantities. It shows how math can be integrated into sensory play.

Language games involved identifying letters, sounds, and associating them with pictures and words—helping children begin their literacy journey organically. They used emotion cards with matching facial expressions and words. During this activity, children repeated emotional words, practiced gendered pronouns like “He/She is sad…,” and played memory games by matching the cards put upside down. These activities not only develop language skills but also emotional intelligence and empathy—something I truly value. Understanding emotions in oneself and others is such a fundamental life skill.

Vocabulary games further expanded children’s emotional and animal-related vocabulary. What I appreciated most was how the teachers embedded vocabulary in context rather than isolating words—children experienced the meanings.

In terms of creative tasks, children made flowers using yarn, fabric, glue, paper, and pencils. I loved the freedom of expression in this activity. It wasn’t about producing identical results but letting each child explore texture, color, and form. These activities nourish creativity and develop both aesthetic sense and fine motor skills.

Another day was dedicated to nature and biology. In advance, children placed beans in well-wetted cotton and left them in the sun. In the second part of the activity that I observed, children filled pots with soil, replanted the sprouted beans, watered them, wrote their names on the pots, and placed them back on the windowsill. This was one of my favorite activities—it teaches patience, responsibility, and wonder at growth. Seeing children so engaged with nature, even inside the classroom, was deeply inspiring.

A separate day was dedicated to physical education (PE). A rope was placed at different angles on the floor, and children had to walk along it, trying not to fall or step too far off. I admired this activity because it trained balance, focus, and body awareness in a fun, non-competitive way.

Children also learned how to roll using mattresses and teacher guidance. The OGRE group participated in gymnastics and cardio exercises in a separate, small PE zone. These sessions offered structured movement that supports gross motor development and coordination, essential for physical health and emotional regulation.

There was also a day that focused on social-emotional development. Children sat in a circle on the floor, and the teacher asked whether they wanted to pass a hug or simply say hello. Many chose to pass hugs, and watching them gently embrace one another in a warm, joyful chain was heart-melting. I found this activity especially powerful—it nurtures connection, empathy, and emotional expression.

Later in the same session, the teacher led a relaxation exercise. Children lay down, closed their eyes, and were guided to feel and relax different parts of their body. This practice reduces anxiety and frustration while promoting mindfulness and self-awareness. I found it quite progressive and incredibly necessary in today’s fast-paced world.

There was also a practical life activity where children had to take a spoonful of beans from a box, transfer them onto a saucer, and then return the beans. This developed concentration, precision, and fine motor control. It may seem simple, but the skill and focus it takes for little hands to transfer small objects carefully are impressive.

Overall, each day’s theme and its carefully chosen activities reflected the Montessori philosophy’s core: letting children explore the world through meaningful, hands-on experiences, guided gently by adults who respect their pace and interests.

The classrooms are richly equipped with Montessori tools designed to promote development across various areas. Materials include number boards, movable alphabets, colored beads grouped by numerical value, emotion cards, posters, memory and vocabulary games, blocks, constructors, plushies, board games, stationery, and sensory materials such as soil, beans, and ropes. Children use fabric, scissors, glue, colored paper, hard cardboard, pencils, paints, and yarn for arts and crafts. Each activity is performed on a personal mat or table—children take a mat before beginning to play and return it after finishing, reinforcing structure and responsibility.

Books in both Hungarian and English are available to support early literacy and a bilingual environment. The Montessori games and activities are intentionally open-ended, fostering independence, problem-solving, and fine motor development.

Songs are integral to daily routines. Classics like “Magic fingers on my…” signal calm before naps, or help overwhelmed children to come to their senses. “Let’s make a circle round and round” gathers children for group activities. “Criss-cross apple sauce” reminds them to sit properly. Others like “Banana shoes” humorously alert kids to mismatched shoes. Fun songs like “Walking in the Jungle” and “Going to the Station Early in the Morning” energize transitions from eating a snack to going to the yard.

Games such as “Pop the Balloon,” “The Spider,” and “Zilina” enhance play. Outdoor spaces include sand areas, swings, climbing frames, and biking zones. The yard is full of plants, flowers, trees, and insects. It is the place where children are taught not to pick greenery, only if it is already on the ground. This instills in them a sense of respect for nature and environmental awareness. By teaching children to admire without harming and to collect only what has naturally fallen, the educators help develop a mindful and caring relationship with the natural world. Children learn to observe, appreciate, and coexist with their environment, an important value that can shape empathy throughout life.

The teachers displayed exceptional emotional intelligence and patience. They maintained soft, calm voices and approached each situation with empathy. Children were redirected rather than scolded. When a child refused to read or join an activity, the teacher acknowledged the refusal and simply offered the task to someone else.

Children were gently supported in all transitions. Visual indicators, such as a green countdown light indicating how much time is left for free play, helped children anticipate and prepare for change. Clean-up songs were sung by both the teacher and children, helping to set and internalize a routine. Teachers placed artificial candles, turned on classical music during lunch, and read stories before bed to create a pleasant, calm atmosphere.

The teacher also used a musical instrument such as a triangle to get the children’s attention, instead of shouting or moving them one by one. This method was calm, stress-free, and free from negative associations. Another frequently used technique was switching from a louder to a softer voice—first to gain attention, then to encourage quiet listening.

There was a strong emphasis on autonomy: children fetched their mats, rolled them up, set tables, cleaned spills, returned dishes, zipped each other’s coats, tied shoelaces, and helped younger children with bathroom routines or social situations. The teacher supported them patiently each time, helping the children gradually become more independent.

Teachers also encouraged choice in everyday routines. Children were free to decide whether to eat breakfast, pick between milk or water, choose their snack, or select the next player in a group game. Even in greetings, they could choose to hug or say hello. These small decisions supported the development of self-awareness, decision-making, and reflection from an early age.

Positive reinforcement was used thoughtfully. Teachers didn’t praise constantly but instead offered specific, meaningful feedback. Rather than saying “Great job,” they might say, “You used the scissors much better than last time,” with a warm smile or a wink. This helped children feel genuinely seen without becoming dependent on praise, nurturing intrinsic motivation and confidence.

During the five days I spent at the Montessori kindergarten, I was genuinely surprised by how emotionally mature the children were—sometimes even more mature than many adults I’ve seen. They handled conflicts and emotions with a calmness and understanding that was impressive. Watching them resolve arguments quickly and kindly made me realize how effective emotional intelligence can be when it’s nurtured from a young age.

One of the first moments that stood out was a little girl who kept saying “no” to everything the teacher suggested. Instead of getting annoyed or correcting her, the teacher simply joined in the joke. They ended up laughing together, and I just thought, “Wow.” It showed me how being playful and emotionally attuned works so much better than force, creating a light and trusting atmosphere.

Another moment that touched me was when a boy accidentally hit another child. The teacher didn’t overreact—she calmly encouraged him. After a few seconds, he went over, apologized on his own, and they hugged it out. It was such a simple thing, but it showed me how kindness can come naturally when children are supported in the right way.

There was something really sweet about my fluffy slippers. The kids petted them, leaned on them, even laid their heads on them like pillows. Often, they sat next to me or climbed into my lap. It felt like a quiet, non-verbal way of saying, “You’re safe here” or “We like you.” Even without speaking the same language, we connected through those little gestures.

One of my favorite experiences was with a boy who didn’t speak any English. I wasn’t sure how we’d communicate at first, but knowing just “igen” (yes) and “nem” (no) was enough for hours of fun. We built block towers, then used the blocks as cars, crashing and chasing each other around the table. Eventually, we ran around the room, teasing and chasing each other with nothing but “igen!” and “nem!” It was pure joy, and it reminded me how connection can happen with just energy and playfulness, not perfect words.

There was also a moment when I decided to turn things around. Instead of waiting for the children to speak English with me, I asked them to teach me Hungarian. I pointed to different colors around the room, and they told me their names in Hungarian. Then they tested me, giggling when I got something wrong and celebrating when I remembered. We did the same with numbers—counting from one to ten. Later, after I have built a connection with them, the children  “allowed” me to play with them, which felt like a big deal. While we played with animal toys, they continued to remind me of the colours and numbers. In return, I taught them some animal names in English that we have played with and they did not know. It was such a natural exchange, and I loved that moment of learning from each other.

One day in the garden, I helped children collect fallen flowers from a tree. The next time, I tried a different approach: instead of following the kids around and asking questions they might not understand or be able to answer.  I chose to start playing on my own and hoped they would join me. It worked really well. I began gathering flowers that had fallen from a tree—there were plenty on the ground. The children started helping me collect them, and they talked to me a lot in Hungarian. I told them I don’t know Hungarian and can only speak English with them. At first, they didn’t believe me, then they tried speaking more slowly and loudly so I could understand better— which was so cute! Some kids tried to help translate what their friends were saying. For example, one girl was talking to me about flowers, but I didn’t understand, so she asked her friend if he could help translate. He said simply, “flower, pink flower.” Later, I asked my fellow student to help translate what the children were trying to tell me. The questions and statements I remember hearing were like: “I know how cat and dog are in English,” “Are you graduating this year?” “Why are you here?” and “I like flowers.” It was such a funny and heartwarming moment — seeing how much they wanted to communicate and connect even with the language barrier.

One afternoon, without being told, the kids started singing the clean-up song and tidying the whole room by themselves. They worked together happily, helping each other, and it was amazing to watch. Not only was I surprised, but the teacher was too. It showed how deeply routines and responsibility can be part of their lives.

All these moments added up to something very special. Despite being an outsider and not speaking perfect Hungarian, the children welcomed me warmly.

Although the kindergarten officially doesn’t accept children with diagnosed conditions like autism or ADHD, there are children attending who clearly have developmental differences. While none of them have formal diagnoses, it was obvious from their behavior that they needed additional support, and what struck me was how naturally and respectfully that support was provided by both teachers and peers.

There was one boy who barely spoke at all. His behavior suggested possible selective autism. He preferred to stay in the background, didn’t initiate social interaction, and avoided eye contact. But one day, I saw something that really moved me. A girl from his group picked a number puzzle—she knew it was his favorite—and sat down next to him. She didn’t pressure him with words. She quietly began working on it, showing him how to play, and after a few minutes, he joined her. She guided him step by step and even helped him finish the activity by rolling up his mat and returning it to the shelf. No one asked her to do it—it came from a place of understanding and care. I was amazed by how natural it was for the other children to include and support him without making him feel different or incapable.

There was another girl who seemed to have autism. She played with others without any problem. Socialization was on a good level. However, sometimes she could not understand what was bothering her. For instance, the child, in question, had a running knows and instead of blowing it(she could not do it herself, even though for this age she should be able to do that), she began crying and thought that some clothes disturbed her and denied to put on her suit for outdoor activities. She sucked her thumb and cried. Moreover, she constantly looked for physical contact throughout the day. What stood out to me was how the teachers responded—not by telling her to stop or asking her to “act her age,” but by meeting her where she was. They often sat near her, placed a gentle hand on her shoulder or stroked her head, and offered calm reassurance without overreacting. She needed that physical comfort to feel grounded, and it was always given to her in a soft, non-judgmental way. I noticed how she relaxed when someone stayed close, and how other children accepted her behavior as normal—no one teased or excluded her. On the contrary, helped her in that particular situation. After the teacher helped her to blow her nose, the children came and helped to change her clothes and supported her. They hugged her themselves ,when standing in line waiting to get to the bathroom, on their way to the yard, or while playing.

Then there was a boy who had difficulty with self-regulation and boundaries, also thought to have selective autism. He was loud, often got distracted, and would sometimes interrupt or disrupt group activities. But again, I saw no scolding or punishment. The teacher simply went to him, crouched down to his level, and calmly redirected him. Sometimes she would take him aside for a few minutes and guide him through breathing or offer him a task that required movement or focus, like helping organize materials. It was never done in a way that embarrassed him or separated him from the group—it was clear the goal was always to keep him included. I saw that he responded well to this—his disruptive behavior didn’t disappear entirely, but his reactions became calmer and shorter.

Another case that stood out to me was a girl who pretended to feel unwell. One morning, she came back from the bathroom and told the teacher she had thrown up, asking her to call her mother. The teacher didn’t panic but handled the situation with calm curiosity. She gently asked more questions and eventually went to the bathroom to check. It turned out that the girl hadn’t been sick at all—something the teacher had suspected, as this wasn’t the first time the girl had said she felt bad just to be sent home. Through conversations with my mentor, I learned that her parents both worked a lot, and after weekends especially, it was really hard for her to separate from her family again and stay the whole day in the kindergarten. Pretending to be sick was her way of asking for closeness—she didn’t have the words to say, “I miss my mom” or “I need comfort.” The teacher didn’t scold her for lying. Instead, she acknowledged her feelings and gave her a bit more attention that morning—sitting beside her, involving her in a calm activity, and offering quiet reassurance. I found that so important. The situation could’ve easily been framed as misbehavior, but instead, it was recognized as an emotional need. It reminded me again how sensitive and thoughtful early childhood education has to be—how often children express complex feelings through simple or indirect behaviors, and how much it matters that adults take the time to understand what’s really going on.

This placement changed me in ways I didn’t expect. I went in thinking I’d simply observe teaching methods and classroom routines—but what I witnessed went far beyond that. I saw children behaving with emotional awareness, compassion, and maturity that many adults struggle to show. They weren’t trained to be kind. Their kindness wasn’t forced, it wasn’t scripted—it was nurtured through small, consistent, meaningful experiences in an environment that values empathy, independence, and mutual respect.

One of the most important lessons I learned is that a shared language isn’t always necessary to build a bond. I could connect with the children just through a smile, a playful gesture, or quietly joining their game. They welcomed me with warmth and trust, even when we didn’t fully understand each other's words. A few simple Hungarian words like igen and nem, and asking them to teach me the rest, helped bridge the gap. It reminded me that connection comes through intention, not fluency.

I also learned how powerful it is to give space—to observe before stepping in, and to resist the urge to fix or control every moment. The teachers modeled that beautifully. They allowed children to try, to stumble, to resolve their own small conflicts. I saw how important it is to trust children with responsibility and choice—even when it’s messy or imperfect—because that’s how they grow confident and capable.

This experience completely shifted my thinking around what “misbehavior” means. I no longer believe it should be excused just because “they’re only kids.” These children proved otherwise. I saw them helping each other zip up coats, apologizing and hugging after accidents, comforting their classmates, cleaning up without being asked. Of course, there were moments of frustration or challenge—but they were handled with understanding, not excuses. The environment supported the best in them, and they rose to meet that.

What I’ll carry with me isn’t some checklist of Montessori tools or teaching strategies. It’s the feeling of what it’s like when a space is built for children, not just around them. It’s the way the kids made their own order out of the day—without being told, without chaos. How routines felt natural, not forced. How they treated each other with more patience than I expected—even more than some adults I know. I’ll remember how they gently let me into their world. Not because I asked, but because I listened, sat on the floor, messed around with blocks, and let them lead. That’s what stayed with me most—that moment when they stopped seeing me as a guest and just saw me as someone they could trust.

Now I know the kind of teacher I want to be: someone who notices the little things, who respects children’s emotions, who supports independence without stepping on it, and who creates a space where every child feels safe to be exactly who they are.