"The Story of a Monarch"
Contributed by Katey Schultz

     "For the sake of education and inspiration, each fall our Montessori class of first through third graders observes the life cycle of a monarch butterfly in our very own classroom.  This year, one of the young students discovered an egg on a milkweed plant just outside the classroom walkway.  He brought it in for Show and Tell and we decided, as a class, to 'raise' and watch this egg complete the next stages of life as a larva, then pupa, then grand monarch butterfly.
     This fall, around early October, our classroom caterpillar swung his mini legs toward the underside of the jar and positioned himself into a J-like formation, hanging head down.  We watched patiently for five days as he dangled like a loose tooth from the jar's lid.  Occasionally his jar was passed gently around our circle from little hand to little hand for closer examination.
     For the monarch, it is a tremendous journey from egg to butterfly.  Life begins when the mother lays tiny eggs along the leaf tips of the poisonous but butterfly milkweed plant.  Once hatched, there is one food and one food only that these larvae can eat.  I suppose if they had eyes and feet like ours, they would peer down between their little toes just moments after birth and find that they were resting on the only food they will know in this phase of life.
     One nibble at a time, they start to grow, fattening their round bodies into full-sized caterpillars.  During this time they have only one task, and that is the gathering of energy through food so that they may begin the next phase of their lives.  The simplicity is enticing:  eat and grow, eat and grow, then store, store, store in order to assure a safe transformation.  Of the many lessons Nature teaches us, the beauty of simplicity is one that never fails to inspire  . . .
     It wasn't long until our classroom caterpillar began to transform into a pupa, entering an adult phase of its life and forming a chrysalis.  First a tiny hit of green appeared along his top, covering his head like a baseball cap.  Then quickly, more of the outer cocoon formed, growing over his back then engulfing his legs and the rest of his body.  The caterpillar squirmed underneath the silky skin of his new home.
     'What's he going to do now?' Logan asked.
     'He's waiting,' I said.
     And wait he did, dangling there in his jade green suit like a glass bead.  Slowly, the milkweed leaves molded away and the chrysalis hung from the bottom of the jar's like in solitude.  For five days we waited.  Then one morning, just before our morning circle, his jade green cloak turned suddenly clear, revealing the fragile, intricate body of a butterfly.  Slowly, he birthed himself out of the cocoon and revealed his fat body and floppy wings.
     'But he doesn't look right,' said one student.
     'Just wait,' said the teacher.  Together, it felt as though we were holding the unknown, living moment-to-moment on the cusp of something grand.
     Within a few minutes he began heaving his torso around, pumping the blood and fluid from his swollen body into his emerging wings.  The wings perked up, brightened in color, and began to take shape.  But still, they sagged a little and seemed almost wet.  The children watched intensely.  The butterfly carried on in this way, pumping life into his own wings until finally his body was normal in shape and his marmalade-orange wings glistened through the glass.
     We waited for a few hours, because we had read that this would be an important time for the butterfly to rest.  And then the children chorused:
     'Now can we?'
     'Yes! (the teacher) said.  We walked outside where she gently unscrewed the lid of the jar and flipped it upright.
     Our butterfly was perched perfectly, like a king on his throne.  The class grew silent and little Sophia's eyes grew wide with anticipation.  First a single flap, then flap-flap, then crawling inch by inch, then flap, then the lifting, and the children began to shout:  'Go, go, go!'
     The first flight and the only one we would see.  He swooped over the children's heads, their eyes following him like magnets, and then he danced around the porch beams. Finally, WHOOSH.  He was gone, his erratic flight pattern smoothing out as he flew confidently into the next phase of life."
 

"We cannot create observers by saying 'observe,' but by giving them the power and the means for this observation and these means are procured through education of the senses."  Maria Montessori

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