by MAJUMDER SAKRASHUMINDERATHER, Alternate Reality News Service Education Writer
Your seven year-old daughter comes home with a report card that says “Little Lizzie does not play well with the other children.” You are furious, of course. Not because of Little Lizzie’s behaviour, but because of the vagueness of the criticism. Was Little Lizzie exhibiting the kind of ruthlessness that would make her a feared leader of the business community, or did she just have too much sugar at lunch?
At The Other Montessori School, students are marked on their ability to blackmail and intimidate others, undermine teamwork and distort the truth to serve their ends. When they are report carded, they damn well stay report carded.
“Oh, sure, some schools say they’re going to prepare your child for life in the real adult world,” said Fabiana Montessori (no relation), the founder of (sorry, when I said she was no relation, I meant to Maria Montessori, one of the creators of the Time Agency. She may be no relation to any number of other Montessoris, but none of them are the person to whom I was referring to) The Other Montessori School. “But, how many of them require seven year-olds to read Machiavelli? If you haven’t read The Prince, how can anybody say you’re serious about succeeding in life?”
Ordinary schools can teach students how to maximize returns on stock portfolios, draw up contracts for mergers and acquisitions and run franchise operations, Montessori explained. But, that’s just vocational training. That doesn’t really prepare them for the cutthroat corporate red in tooth and claw world of all against a –
“Evelyn!” Montessori shouted.
Two young girls turned their startled gaze upon her. It was obvious that the taller, dark haired girl had just snatched a Terry the Tubby Transport Truck out of the hand of the shorter blonde youngster.
“What have I been trying to teach you about bullying?” Montessori sternly demanded.
To my surprise, it was the short blonde moppet (and, I say that with all due respect to brightly coloured creatures made out of felt and buttons with human hands up their butts the world over – Jim Henson estate, please don’t sue me for copyright infringement. You would probably be able to swallow me whole, but there’s hardly any meat on my bones, and what little there is probably tastes of Alka Seltzer and regret.) who replied, “Sorry, Ms. Montessori.” Then, she punched the tall, dark haired girl in the chest. As she staggered backwards, the short blonde resnatched the toy out of her hand.
“That’s my girl!” Montessori beamed.
I asked Montessori if it wasn’t dangerous allowing young people to give in to their basest urges. “What, violence, you mean?” Well, yes. That. “We only teach violence as a last resort,” Montessori stated. “And, the results speak for themselves: we haven’t had a child die at the school in almost seven years! And, I must say, the parents understood completely that young Master Charlton was weak and wouldn’t have made it very far in the real world anyway. Now, his sister Malena, on the other hand…”
What about the incident three years ago with the student who tried to burn down the school? “She got a B+ in Advanced Creative Destruction!” Montessori enthused. “She would have gotten an A, but she didn’t succeed.”
Wasn’t Montessori worried about the school? “Oh, tosh. That’s what child insurance is for!”
We watched students with a free period playing in a common room. One poster on the wall showed a cute little boy whose faced was scrunched (and, I say that with all due respect to hard-working fabric-covered elastic ties used to fasten long hair everywhere. Rommy Revson, please see my apology to Him Henson five paragraphs ago!) and whose hands were balled up in adorable little fists; it had the caption: “‘You played dirty’ just means ‘I’m jealous I didn’t think of it first!'” Another poster depicted a little girl staring down the hose of a vacuum cleaner with the caption “SUCK IT UP!”
Of course, “playing” has a different meaning at The Other Montessori School. Children from kindergarten to grade 12 were mostly negotiating with each other at various decibel levels. In a corner of the room away from the rest of the children, an older boy and girl appeared to be studying together; I wondered if one of them was giving the other the wrong answers to test questions.
You’re never too old to learn.