‘I have Atrium today’ one or other of my children regularly announces, and I always get the sense that it is the special highlight of their week, a place set apart, a testament to the gentle centrality of the Catechesis of the Good Shepherd.
What has Catholic Montessori meant for our family? Perhaps the loveliest thing for me is that faith is there- part of the air the children breathe, the atmosphere they imbibe, something that is shared, and shared deeply between sisters, teachers and friends alike. This sharing seems particularly important because already our well-travelled 6 year old, well versed in diversity, is acutely aware of distinctions of faith among the people she meets. ‘Should we say grace? So-and-so is not Catholic’. ‘Should we send them a Christmas card with Jesus on it?’ Whether for etiquette or ethical reasons, her subtext of anxiety each time seems to be ‘will they understand? Will they mind? How should we act when we don’t share core beliefs?’
Growing up in the mono-religious, mono-cultural environment of Ireland in the 1980s and 90s, we knew a small handful of Protestants, a very few Jewish people, and nobody who then admitted to atheism outright. So my daughter’s questions were ones I simply never articulated until my move to the UK in my 20s. Raising children in the pluralist environment of the USA in 2020 could not be more different and will give us opportunities for explaining religious distinctions and giving witness respectfully in a hugely diverse culture that I simply never had.
Still, I see the immense value for children in an education where a truly, authentic Christian atmosphere is cultivated - where it can be taken for granted, in the best possible sense, that both grown-ups and children share a Love that informs all, a place where their other deeper questions can be asked and answered at a level appropriate to them. Why am I here? Am I loved? Who is the Good Shepherd? Does God love everybody in the whole world? Is He the Light? Is He a person? Why did my sister have to die as a baby, and where did she go?
And the lesser more frivolous questions which throw up the Alice-in-Wonderlandish side of Catholicism ever intriguing to children. ‘What color is Our Lady’s veil?’ ‘What wooden things does St Joseph make?’ ‘Does St Cecilia like classical music or jazz?’(The former assuredly, darling). ‘What is the wingspan of an angel?’
We’ve still to get to how many angels can dance on the head of the pin, and the chance to reinvent medieval scholasticism for contemporary juveniles. It’s only a matter of time.
Written By: Hilary Stroh