When I first studied early childhood education, I came across Montessori’s writing on children’s extraordinary ability to concentrate for long periods of time — often for more than an hour at a stretch. At the time, I found it hard to believe. It sounded almost impossible.

So later, during my years of teaching, I began paying close attention to whether young children really were capable of such deep concentration. The children in our nursery were all under five years old. And I discovered that once children found an activity they genuinely wanted to do — pouring water, tying knots, building towers, matching words and pictures — the moment they became absorbed in it, the rest of the world seemed to disappear. Time passed, but they hardly noticed. Our uninterrupted work period in the classroom usually lasted around an hour and a half. During that time, each child worked on their own activity, and the room always settled into a calm and steady rhythm.

Later, I saw the same thing in my own children. And finally, I believed it.

Of course, there was one important secret: Do not interrupt a child’s concentration.

A child’s focus is like a bubble in the process of forming — transparent, almost invisible, yet surprisingly powerful. But it is also fragile. The slightest touch, and it bursts.

Once, while a child was completely absorbed in a puzzle, I could not resist saying: “You’re doing so well!”He looked up at me and smiled. And then — he never quite returned to that same state of deep immersion.

Another time, a child was bent over the table, completely focused on drawing and writing. I noticed he was slouching slightly, so I gently reminded him: “Sit up straight.” He looked up, adjusted himself, and immediately began glancing around the room. Ah… that delicate thread of thought had snapped.

Of course, concentration does not necessarily mean sitting upright and quietly reading or writing. I have also seen energetic, restless children who learn best through movement and physical action. When they practise shooting a basketball over and over again on the court, or spend long stretches skipping rope in the playground, their bodies may be moving — but their minds are completely settled.

To protect this fragile yet precious concentration, teachers in our nursery followed one strict principle: Do not interrupt. While a child is deeply focused, we do not assist, do not praise, and do not point out mistakes. Over time, I also came to realise that although concentration is delicate, it can absolutely be cultivated and strengthened. Because concentration is not a switch. It is a capacity — one that can gradually be extended: five minutes, ten minutes, fifteen minutes… When children are able to complete something by themselves, without constant reminders or interruptions, their ability to concentrate naturally grows longer. And when we are willing to slow down, step back, and wait, concentration is finally given the chance to grow in its own way.

From a professional point of view, concentration also depends greatly on the design of the environment: clear blocks of uninterrupted time, a single task, a predictable rhythm, and the calm, steady presence of adults.

Around ten years ago, I began hearing more and more parents worrying that their children “couldn’t concentrate”. But experience has led me to believe that this is not the child’s natural state. It is a problem of environment. Children’s lives today are filled with too many transitions, too many sounds, too many schedules, too many reminders. And concentration does not break because something is difficult. It breaks because it is interrupted too often. I truly believe that if we could simply remove half of those “too many” things, children’s ability to concentrate would improve enormously.

Interestingly, in recent years I have started noticing the fragmentation of concentration in myself as well. Phone notifications. Constant task-switching. The pressure to reply immediately… I, too, am relearning how to protect uninterrupted stretches of time for myself — and how to regain deep focus.

In an age filled with distraction, the ability to concentrate for long periods of time is, in itself, a kind of strength.