Recently, a little Japanese monkey named Punch has touched the hearts of countless people around the world.

Punch’s mother, experiencing her first birth during an intense heatwave and enduring a prolonged labor, suffered a significant decline in her physical health and strength afterward. As a result, she showed strong rejection toward her newborn. Despite the keepers’ repeated attempts to reunite mother and child, each effort ended with the mother biting and pushing the baby away. Thus, from the second day after his birth, Punch was hand-reared by the zookeepers.

The staff provided him with many comfort items, but he chose just one – a stuffed orangutan toy. From that moment on, the toy became his inseparable “surrogate mother” and a haven of security. Whether eating, sleeping, or playing, he holds it tightly in his arms.

Looking at the photos of Punch clinging to his “surrogate mother,” some find it adorable, while others find it heartbreaking. Yet, in the eyes of us educators, who spend each day with children, Punch’s story acts like a mirror, reflecting the most genuine desire deep within every child’s heart: to be held, to be accepted, and to be loved.

Psychologist Harry Harlow demonstrated through his experiments 60 years ago that for a young life, the comfort of touch is more important than food. A baby monkey will cling to a cloth “mother” without a milk bottle, just as a child becomes attached to the person who often holds them – not because of what that person provides materially, but because in those arms, the child confirms they are safe and cherished.

Throughout those days when he held onto his stuffed orangutan, the zookeeper was never absent. Those who have watched the videos will notice a touching scene: whenever the keeper enters the monkey enclosure, Punch immediately rushes over, climbs onto the keeper’s leg, and stays there for a long time, unwilling to get down. In that moment, he isn’t holding a toy, but a living, breathing person – someone who feeds him, gently touches him, and talks to him every single day.

That stuffed orangutan was his “transitional object,” an emotional substitute in his mother’s absence. But the ones who truly helped him through those vulnerable days and gave him a sense of security were the people who were always there for him.

This is precisely what Montessori education firmly believes: within a prepared environment, the most important element is not the materials, but the “prepared adult.”

At Nebula School, every morning, our teachers kneel down to meet each child’s eyes at their level and offer a warm hug. This simple action conveys a silent message: “I am here. I see you. I welcome you.”

With this affirmation, a child can feel secure enough to let go of the teacher’s hand, to explore the classroom materials, to interact with peers, and to attempt things “all by myself.” Much like Punch, who only played freely when his keeper was present, children with a secure foundation are the ones who dare to take their first steps toward independence.

We also see that as Punch gradually integrated into the monkey troop and began playing with peers, his need to hold the stuffed toy slowly faded. How similar this is to the children in our classrooms – when they feel safe in their environment and feel fully accepted by their teachers and friends, they naturally let go of their transitional objects and invest more energy in exploring and growing.

This is what Dr. Montessori described as “normalization”: when a child experiences both love and freedom, their energy naturally flows in a constructive direction.

As educators, we strive not to be mere providers of material things, but to be the ones who are always present: offering a hug when a child needs it, holding space for their emotions when they are afraid, and serving as a secure harbor they can look back to as they explore the world.

At Nebula School, we are committed to being that safe, warm, and encouraging presence for every child – a place that inspires them to explore.