Month: June 2013

end of year, reflection, students

And So It Was Goodbye

Pernille Ripp


Friday marked the end of an incredible year with my 5th graders.  They were ready to go on to summer, they were ready to go to middle school.  So we had a small and perfect graduation and these were my parting words to them…


Dear 5th graders,
I walked into your classroom on November 5th hoping that you would like me.  Hoping that we could build a community, hoping that you would be up for some of my craziness.  I had heard that you were an incredible class, I had heard that you were as sweet as can be, perhaps a little rambunctious, but definitely with your heart in the right place.  Little did I know just how quickly you would become my kids, part of my family, and how quickly the end of the year would come.


We have read many incredible books this year, we have laughed about them, cried about them (well I have any way), and definitely rushed to each other and said “You have to read this book!”  And think of everything we have learned…


Ivan taught us that words are to be treasured and used to make a difference in the world.


Harry taught us that friendships can make the difference between life and death.


Auggie taught us “When given the choice between being right or being kind, choose kind.“


Chu taught us that even the smallest gestures can have the biggest outcomes


Coraline taught us that even though we may think our parents are the most boring parents in the world, they are still the best parents for us.


Carly Rae Jepsen taught us that it’s always a good time.


But it was Jack’s words in Miss Stretchberry’s room 105 that left us with the biggest lesson of the year
Jack writes;  
September 13th
I don’t want to
because boys
don’t write poetry


Girls do.


September 21
I tried.
Can’t do it.
Brain’s empty.


September 27th
I don’t understand
the poem about
the red wheelbarrow
and the white chickens
and why so much
depends upon them.


If that is a poem
about the red wheelbarrow
and the white chickens
then any words
can be a poem.
You’ve just got to
make
short
lines.


Jack was right – any words can be poetry.  So I hope you leave 5th grade painting with your words, not shying away from stating your opinion, and above all choosing kind.


You have made me so proud, thank you for letting me be a part of your life, and remember; represent.

reflection, students

We Plant the Seeds

Pernille Ripp
image from icanread

…Remember how you told me you were an angry child?  

Yeah…
Well, you’re not anymore, are you?
I guess not, Mrs. Ripp…. and he smiles
The power of the words we say to our students never ceasse to astound me.  We can plant seeds in our students with our words, we can build them up, make them believe that they are something bigger, better, brighter, or we can tear them down.
We can make a child believe that they can read any book some day.
We can make them believe that math comes natural to them and that they just need a little more practice.
We can make them believe that they have worth, that their words carry weight.
We can make them believe that they are smart, intuitive, and a natural leader.
We can make them believe that they have a talent, that they are good enough, that they have incredible things to offer to the world. 
We can make them believe that they are worthy of many friendships, that others will like them, and that the world is just waiting for them to burst into it.
We can tear away old labels and replace them with new ones.  Labels that build up instead of tear down.
Our words, even our every day ones, carry so much weight, do we even realize it?
reflection, students

A Child Tells Me How He Really Feels

Pernille Ripp
image from icanread

There are those kids that don’t sneak into our hearts but instead kick the door down, scream for a while, and then try to leave again.  Those kids that make the most noise, that fight us the most, that make sure that we stay on our toes every single moment they are in our presence.  Those kids that you will miss the most even if they were the ones that kept you up the latest every night as you wondered how you would reach them, connect with them, support them as learners.

I have had many of these kids and this year is no different.  Tom (name changed of course) came into my life with the loudest of voices and the most hatred toward writing I have ever met in a child.  It wasn’t just that he didn’t know what to write, he simply didn’t want to write.  Ever.  Not even his name.  Or the date.  Or what his favorite thing was.  Tom hated writing and told me this repeatedly.  He would rather get kicked to the office, he would rather be yelled at by the principal, he would rather yell at me than write.  And yet, I kept at it, helping him, supporting him, pushing him each and every day, refusing to give give in, refusing to take the bait and yell.  But more importantly than me, he started believing in himself.  He started to write just a little, even if it was through lots of complaints.  He picked up his pencil and wrote just enough so that i would leave him alone, enough so he could show he got it.  So today he handed me this memoir to finish the year…
My worst day ever was when I met Mrs.Ripp it was so boring all we did was just talk about something I forgot. she was so bogus for noting. I didn’t even do anything she was just being mean I would hate to be Mrs.Ripps class next year I’m telling you the truth Mrs.Ripp. You were as mean as a pitbull.You can be so bogus sometimes and the worst teacher but sometimes she can be nice other times she mean in the morning she’s nice but in the afternoon she’s mean but I think she will be nice to her other students.She nice to be on the first day but the second day she was super mean and I was just minding my business doing me.I hope she nice to her other class.she even taking minutes off of the field trip and thats not fair that was bogus I got 10 minutes because I didn’t do my thing but dang just mean.
Some teacher may get upset.  Some teachers may think it is rude.  But I am not that teacher.  I love this writing.  I love his honesty, his use of periods, and the fact that he used a simile.  I love that he had me read it aloud to the class and that he smiled when he handed it in.  Look at how much he wrote!  Look at what he did.  He wrote and that to me is the biggest victory ever.
I will miss him a lot, every noise, every fight, every refusal or complaint.  My classroom will feel too quiet after he moves on.  And I think he might miss me a little too, even if I am the meanest teacher ever.

Related articles

reflection, teachers

When Do We As Parents Have a Right to Speak Up?

Pernille Ripp
image from icanread

The last many Saturday’s have been spent watching Theadora try to do gymnastics.  With every glance our way, every smile, every shriek  I can see just how excited she is.  Yet it is not just her I see though, every Saturday I have also watched her gymnastics teacher and seen how her style affects Thea.  You can call her style it nonchalant at best; she models a move once and then steps off to the side letting the kids try it, never once modeling it again.  While Thea tries her hardest most of the time her move looks little like the one just shown and I wonder if she will ever be able to get it if the teacher doesn’t teach better.  Yet I keep my mouth shut feeling like it is not my place to say anything about how my daughter would learn best because the teacher is a professional and surely must know what she is doing, right?

It is not that the teacher is bad, she isn’t, she just isn’t that great either but I let it slide because it is “just gymnastics” and I hold back because I don’t want to be THAT parent who knows better.  That parent that corrects or advises, all in the best interest of their child.  Yet every Saturday I really want to be that parent.  While gymnastics is not life altering, Thea starts 4K in September, putting her with teachers that will mold her for the rest of her life, and that leaves me wondering.

So I wonder when do we as parents speak up for our child?  When do we let a teacher know that there are better ways to teach?  I think being a teacher and a parent puts us at distinct disadvantage because we know how it feels when a parent tries to steer us in a new direction, and so because we are teachers should we just keep our mouths shut if it is not “that bad?”  Perhaps we are just too nice overall to anyone that teaches because we know how it feels?

A recent post by Josh Stumpenhorst has made me ponder just how nice we are as a teachers.  We like to say that we are all great teachers and we certainly don’t ever tell a teacher we know that they should change.  But I wonder; why not?  Being nice to someone isn’t going to make them a better teacher, they are just going to think they are and then who are we helping?

So when do we step in and try to guide?  How bad does it have to be?  Do we keep our mouth shut until it gets really bad or is there a way to tactfully help?

Related articles