Why I Took My Child Out of Montessori School

Montessori education, founded by Dr. Maria Montessori, has a long-standing reputation as an effective method for fostering independent learning and self-discipline in children. However, I quickly learned that the implementation of Montessori principles varies significantly between schools and educators. Even in the most well-regarded Montessori institutions, this approach isn’t always the right fit for every child.

For me, it all started with a photo of my daughter, Lucy, in a Montessori classroom. After months of tearful goodbyes at drop-off and teachers forcibly pulling my two-year-old from my arms, I finally sent a message to the school: “I’m not sure how Lucy is thriving in the Montessori environment.”

The reply was brief: “I hope this picture shows Lucy is thriving.” The photo showed my daughter, expressionless, with her apron hanging down to her feet, sitting alone in a corner of the room, cleaning a plastic chair with a bucket of soapy water.

The Appeal of Montessori Education

At first, I was drawn to this Toronto Montessori school because of its focus on life skills and its child-centered philosophy. I was excited when Lucy was finally admitted after being on the waiting list for over two years. The Scandinavian-style classrooms filled with natural light captivated me during my visit, and I believed this environment would nurture her innate curiosity and foster a love for learning.

Montessori education emphasizes independence, choice, and hands-on learning. I was inspired by the thought of Lucy spending her “workday” choosing activities from a range of learning materials. I was proud to tell friends that Lucy was attending a Montessori school, convinced it would set her up for future success. Many successful people, including Bill Gates, Yo-Yo Ma, Larry Page, and even my favorite, Taylor Swift, had attended Montessori schools. Surely, this approach would benefit my daughter too.

I had also spoken to other parents whose children attended Montessori schools, and their feedback was overwhelmingly positive: “The teachers are so kind,” they said. “The children are completely focused on what they’re learning each day.”

But despite these glowing endorsements, Lucy struggled. She would cry in the car on the way to school, trying to escape and run back home. One day, after chasing her down, she quietly pleaded, “Help me find a new school. I’m all alone here.”

The Disconnect: Observation and Realization

Her teacher insisted that Lucy had plenty of friends, but when I was invited to observe, I was shocked. Montessori encourages parents to watch their children “work” through scheduled observation sessions, which are a core part of the method. During my 40-minute observation, I saw Lucy cutting strips of paper alone. Other children were collaborating in groups, solving problems together, but Lucy was isolated. Her teacher later reassured me that she was excelling at the “cutting station,” a key Montessori activity, but it didn’t feel right to me. She was spending her time alone, disengaged.

The final straw came when Lucy refused to touch a piece of chalk during a drawing activity at home. “My teacher says I’m not ready for the chalk,” she explained. “I’m not allowed to use it yet.” Confused, I called the teacher, who explained that Lucy hadn’t yet mastered the Montessori “ruler,” a fundamental concept tied to number understanding, so she wasn’t allowed to participate in the chalkboard activities with the other children.

I felt that Lucy understood numbers well enough. At home, she insisted on reading at least three books every evening, counted fingers and toes, and even had specific routines for her breakfast. But the teacher insisted that Lucy needed to prove her understanding on paper before she could engage in other activities.

Why didn’t I trust this process?

Following My Instincts

Maria Montessori famously said, “Follow the child.” So, I did. The next day, I withdrew Lucy from the school. Filled with self-doubt and the weight of maternal guilt, I realized that this environment wasn’t right for my child. It was affecting her self-esteem—she felt unprepared, isolated, and lonely.

I wasn’t the only one who had to learn this lesson. Maria Johnson, who enrolled her son in a certified Montessori school in Mississauga, Ontario, shared a similar experience. Reflecting back, she wished she had pulled her son out sooner, but the prestigious reputation of Montessori schools kept her going. “I paid so much, so it must be the best,” she recalled feeling.

Initially, Johnson was drawn to the Montessori method because it focused on life skills—folding clothes, preparing lunch—which aligned with her own parenting philosophy. But her five-year-old son would cry when she dropped him off each morning, and the teachers refused to intervene. “I asked them countless times, ‘You don’t have to hug him, but could you show some human empathy? Try comforting him with words,’” she said. The teachers insisted that her son was simply expressing his emotions and didn’t need intervention. In the end, he was left alone, crying in a small cubicle every day until recess. The thought of this still breaks her heart.

Is Montessori for Everyone?

Over time, I came to understand that Montessori education isn’t one-size-fits-all. The way the philosophy is implemented varies from school to school. More concerning, the term “Montessori” is not a protected trademark, meaning any school can claim to follow Montessori principles, even if they don’t truly adhere to the method.

Lillian Burns, who taught as a Montessori assistant for two years in the United States, later decided not to send her own son to a Montessori school. She said, “Montessori is a great fit for highly independent, highly motivated children who learn best through self-directed, hands-on activities. But it’s definitely not for everyone.” Burns noted that while Montessori works well for some children, it fails to meet the needs of others.

Despite this, I clung to the belief that if Montessori didn’t work for us, the problem must lie with me—or worse, with my child.

That changed when I saw Lucy blossom in her new school, which uses the Reggio Emilia approach, a child-centered method with a focus on social-emotional development and play-based learning. The difference was night and day. Lucy eagerly shared the exciting details of her day, asking when she could return to school and play with her new friends. She was no longer isolated. The teachers supported her explorations and encouraged her to share her creations with the class.

Lucy was thriving, and I could finally breathe easy knowing she was in an environment where she felt understood.

Conclusion: Finding the Right Fit

While Montessori education can be transformative for some children, it’s not universally effective. Each child has unique needs, and it’s important to follow their cues. As a parent, you must trust your instincts, even if that means going against the popular narrative. The right educational environment is one that nurtures your child’s self-esteem, independence, and joy in learning—whether that’s Montessori, Reggio Emilia, or something else entirely. What matters most is that your child feels safe, engaged, and supported as they explore the world around them.