exploringmontessori

Once I started walking down this path, I did what so many of us do—I looked online for ideas and inspiration. Instagram is full of beautiful Montessori spaces: wooden shelves, neutral tones, neatly rotated toys. It’s calm. It’s lovely. And I’ll be honest—it’s easy to feel drawn in.

But over time, I noticed something.

The more I saw that aesthetic, the more I started wondering if what I was doing at home looked Montessori enough. Our shelves are practical but mismatched. Some toys are second-hand or gifted. Our space is a work in progress, and it changes as my baby grows. It doesn’t always feel like something I’d see on Instagram.

And that’s when I realised: Montessori isn’t about how it looks. It’s about how it feels—especially for the child.

It’s in the way I observe instead of interrupt.
In the way I pause and let him try again.
In the way I trust that he’s capable—even when it’s messy or slow.

The shelves, the toys, the layout… those are tools. Helpful ones, yes. But the heart of Montessori is the respect we offer, the space we give, and the trust we build.

Social media can be a lovely place to find ideas. But sometimes it can also make Montessori feel out of reach—like it needs to look a certain way or cost a certain amount. It doesn’t.

Montessori at home might mean DIY materials, cluttered corners, or rotating just a few toys at a time. That’s okay. The real work is quiet, and often unseen.

If you’re doing your best to follow your child with intention and care, then you’re already doing the work—no matching shelves required.