Michela Homer – DP, Preschool
In Montessori philosophy, practical life is not just a component of the curriculum—it is the foundation. Maria Montessori recognised that real, purposeful activity connects the child to their environment and their community, cultivating independence, care, and belonging. Activities like gardening and food preparation do more than build physical skills; they nourish the spirit and foster interdependence.
At Wā Ora, this practice is deeply woven into daily life. It resonates with Te Kauae Runga (our guiding principles) and Te Kauae Raro (the practice of those principles), aligning with Māori views of the child as a sacred being (tapu), inheritor of mana, and inherently connected to the natural world.
Since I began here in Term One, I’ve been privileged to witness the mauri (life force) that infuses our garden spaces. Tamariki water, observe, harvest, and taste what they have grown with their own hands. They’re learning not only about ecosystems and sustainability but also about patience, reciprocity, and the rhythms of the land.
Even more beautifully, these activities bring our wider community into harmony. High school students come on Fridays to support the preschool garden—an expression of ako in action, where tuākana learn alongside tēina. Tamariki are mindful not to pick unripe produce and delight in sharing stories about what they’re growing at home with their whānau.
The fruits of this care are tasted—literally. Tomatoes become pizza toppings, pears are dried into fruit leather, and herbs enrich Jacqui’s much-loved menus. Tamariki don’t just eat—they prepare, share, and reflect. This is a living curriculum where every task carries meaning and every hand matters.
What continues to inspire me is the ritual and intentionality of food preparation. From morning tea to lunch and making scones for the Support Staff and Primary kaiako, tamariki engage in meaningful, developmentally appropriate tasks that connect them to their peers, their kaiako, and the wider kaupapa of manaakitanga (care and hospitality).
Each day, tamariki don their aprons, wash their hands with care, and respectfully handle kai for their community. With guidance from Jacqui, they learn not just recipes, but tikanga around hygiene, sharing, and working together. Older tamariki model processes for younger ones—tuakana-teina flourishing at the kitchen bench.
Jacqui’s preparation and leadership reflect the Montessori principle of the prepared adult and prepared environment. She has cultivated not only a space, but a culture where children contribute meaningfully and with pride. In doing so, she affirms their mana motuhake—their right to shape their own learning and life.
And what a feat it is! Feeding 100 tamariki each day, with care and dignity, is no small task. Yet through collaborative effort and thoughtful design—child-height benches, child-sized tools, a nurturing kaiako—the seemingly impossible becomes not only possible, but joyful.
Through these shared rituals of planting, preparing, and feasting, we see Montessori’s vision for peace, justice, and interconnectedness made real. As tamariki learn where food comes from, how to respect it, and how to care for others through it, they grow in empathy, resilience, and joy.
