Children's ideas,
taken seriously.
A Reggio-inspired studio school in New Haven, where three-to-five-year-olds make, question, and build — and their thinking is documented like the real work it is.
A Reggio-inspired studio school in New Haven, where three-to-five-year-olds make, question, and build — and their thinking is documented like the real work it is.
A child is not an empty cup to fill. A child is a maker, a theorist, and a negotiator — and our job is to give those ideas materials, time, and a serious audience.
We don't hand out themes. We listen for what children are genuinely wondering about, then build projects around it — sometimes for weeks.
Clay, wire, paint, light, cardboard, sound. Children "say" things in materials they can't yet say in words — so we keep the good stuff within reach.
Teachers document with photos, transcripts, and children's work on the walls — so a parent can see not just what happened, but the thinking underneath it.
Newer makers finding their materials and their friends. Shorter projects, lots of sensory work, and gentle support for children still learning to be away from home.
A permanent, always-open invitation to shape, pinch, and problem-solve.
Overhead projector, light table, shadow — where color and science meet wonder.
A quiet, high-up nook for books, stories, and a needed breather.
Confident makers who can carry a project across weeks — planning, revising, and presenting their work. This is where school-readiness grows out of real, self-directed making.
Big blocks, cardboard, tape, and real tools for real building.
The main art studio, led by our atelierista, for deep project work.
Dramatic play, music, and movement — stories acted out loud.
Extended care runs 7:30–5:30. A summer Studio Season (July–Aug) is open to enrolled and visiting families.
It can look like "just playing." Choose a corner of the studio and we'll show you exactly what's growing — and what a teacher noticed while it happened.
It began with one child at the window: "Where do the pigeons go when it rains?" No one knew. So we spent five weeks finding out.
A single wondering, overheard and written down. Instead of answering it, teachers asked the group: "What do you think?" Theories were recorded, word for word.
Teachers set out feathers, photos of birds, nest materials, and clay — no instructions. Children investigated shape, wing, and shelter with their hands.
A trip to the park to watch real pigeons. Back in the studio, children built shelters from cardboard and tested them under a watering can — engineering by another name.
Children drew, painted, and sculpted their answers. Each "theory" became a piece of work — with dictated words captured alongside, honoring the idea.
The studio became a gallery for one evening. Children walked their families through the work and explained their thinking — the proudest kind of "presentation skills."
Project details are a fictional illustration of how documentation works here.
Pinching, rolling, and brushwork build the hand strength and control that later hold a pencil — and give feelings somewhere to go.
Mixing colored light and chasing shadows is real science — prediction, cause and effect, and pure wonder at how the world works.
Building tall means measuring, balancing, counting, and negotiating with a partner who has other plans. Math and social skills, stacked together.
Making up stories, acting them out, and "reading" their own drawings is how literacy begins — long before letters, in the love of a good tale.
Books, drawing, a familiar face at the door.
The group revisits yesterday's work; today's plan.
The long, deep block — projects, provocations, choice.
Bodies and big movement in the yard and park.
Family-style; children serve and pour.
Naps for some, quiet studio for others.
Small groups, music, the day's investigation.
Reflection, then pickup. Extended care to 5:30.
The frame is the same each day — children thrive on knowing what's next — but the studio time flexes to let a project breathe. Transitions are always signaled ahead.
Trained as a sculptor before she trained as an educator. Lucia runs the atelier and helps every classroom turn a child's idea into something they can hold.
The documentarian — his classroom walls tell the story of what children are thinking. Patient with big questions and bigger feelings.
Opened Cardboard & Clay after a decade in children's museums. Sofia coaches the teaching team and greets families at the door most mornings.
Private classroom content lives behind a secure parent login — no public child profiles, no live cameras.
We describe our practices honestly and make no guarantee of absolute safety.
Great materials and low ratios cost real money, and we'd rather tell you up front than make you ask. Below are our published ranges; your enrollment agreement confirms the exact figure.
A registration fee secures your year and covers the studio materials budget. We offer a sibling discount and a small number of need-based tuition-assistance spots — please ask.
Includes all studio materials, the atelier program, daily documentation, portfolios, and family conferences. Lunch from home; snacks provided. Illustrative figures for this concept.
Now accepting applications · a few fall spots"I came in skeptical about 'art school for toddlers.' Then I watched my son explain, for ten minutes, why his bridge needed a triangle. They didn't just keep him busy — they taught him to think, and they showed me how."
— Parent, Older Studio · fictional reflection
Tours happen during studio time, so you'll see real projects in progress — not a tidied-up showroom. Bring your child; they're welcome to make something while we talk.
This form is an inquiry — it doesn't reserve a place. We reply within one business day.