Author: Pernille Ripp

I am a passionate teacher in Oregon, Wisconsin, USA, who has taught 4th, 5th, and 7th grade. Proud techy geek, and mass consumer of incredible books. Creator of the Global Read Aloud Project, Co-founder of EdCamp MadWI, and believer in all children. I have no awards or accolades except for the lightbulbs that go off in my students’ heads every day. First book “Passionate Learners – Giving Our Classrooms Back to Our Students” can be purchased now. Second book“Empowered Schools, Empowered Students – Creating Connected and Invested Learners” is out now from Corwin Press. Follow me on Twitter @PernilleRipp.
Be the change, reflection

We Are A Broken Nation

Pernille Ripp
We expect our children to grow old. To have lives, wives and perhaps even children of their own.  we expect to see them through the terrible two’s, their first day of school, the dreaded teen years and to walk across a college stage diploma in hand full of dreams.  But our children don’t always get to live out our dreams.  Sometimes our children are taking from us much sooner than we ever feared; a parent’s worst nightmare.

Like so many others, I watched the massacre at Sandy Hook Elementary unfold via Twitter on Friday, crying in front of my computer while my students were at music.  The hushed conversations between teachers quickly took over the school and yet our kids walked around happy it was Friday.  Happy lunch was soon, happy that Christmas is coming and that there is a chance of snow, completely unaware of the unspeakable evil happening at another school just like ours.  We were told to keep all students off computers, to not mention anything, so we sent them out the door with high fives  and great jobs, and see you on Monday.  Then we grieved after they left and huddled together asking the tough question; what would we do if it happened to us?

The truth is we don’t know.  We too have been trained in drills of what to do, but I know it is not enough.  We will be sitting ducks just like everyone else.  My husband asked me if I was going to take a hammer to school to leave in the room, he wasn’t joking, because the truth is, we have nothing to protect ourselves with.  A locked door, a secretary who buzzes you in, a name tag cannot protect our children.

I read about the teacher who hid her kids and lied about their whereabouts and I wonder if I would be so brave?  I wonder if I could react and protect as instinctually and fearlessly as she must have.  I hope I could.

On Monday, school resumes and my students will tell me about the killings.  They will have some questions, I am sure, but I will leave most of the discussions up to parents.  I will tell them that school is safe even if I have no way of knowing.  I will be told by my district whether to change anything in our safety procedure and soon we will be lulled back into our sense of safety and we will again begin to gripe about the small things.  We will move on because that is what we do.  We will have cries of change needed yet our funding will continue to be cut resulting in fewer teacher, fewer psychologists, fewer guidance counselors – the very people we need in schools to prevent tragedies.

We are a broken nation when our school becomes the ultimate cry for help from someone with a horrific plan.  We are a broken nation when this continues to happen and we change nothing.  We are a broken nation when it takes multiple murders to get our attention.  How can we begin to heal?

PS:  If you have the time to read another post, please read “Preparing for the Worst Case Scenario” by Kris Still on Beth Still’s blog.  And then forward it to your school district.

reflection, students

What Is Our Obsession With Quiet Kids?

Pernille Ripp
image from icanread

This year there has been a lot of emphasis on voice level at my school.  Chalk it up to our status as a PBIS school where it is all about the voice levels.  And I agree, many times kids talking in the hallways can be a distraction to those teaching. Or kids shouting in the lunch room is not great behavior, but there seems to be an obsessions with quiet in our schools.  As if quiet always means learning.

So I am here to disagree, to ponder our obsessions with quiet students.  To me quiet can mean many things, and yes, one of them is studious behavior.  But it can also mean a child that is lost in their work and doesn’t even know what to ask.  It can mean a child has no one to speak to as they sit at lunch by themselves.  It can mean that children are merely doing their job as learners and not fully invested in what they are doing.  It is not that I am against the quiet, it has its place in school, but so does boisterous excitement, loud noises, and general conversation.

We often equate teacher weakness with loud classrooms, however, my classroom is loud and we get done what we need to get done and sometimes even more than what we are supposed to.  We get excited, we get a little loud, and we know when to be quiet because it fits the purpose.  Walk by on any given day and you may see us at all sorts of voice levels.  Walk by on any given day and hopefully you will see kids engaged with the learning.

So let’s revisit the quiet.  Let’s figure out when it is truly needed and when it should take center stage, but let us not continue to teach children that learning must be quiet, that learning should be in whisper voices only, unless you are speaking to the teacher.  Much like we have blank classroom walls at the beginning fo the year so that students may take them over, let us also have quiet rooms waiting to be filled with noise by the students.  They should have a voice, and nut just a voice level 1 kind of voice, but perhaps even a voice level 2 or 3 at times.  

Uncategorized

Parents Are Not Our Enemies

Pernille Ripp
Something I am often asked is how my parents react to all of the “weird” things I do in my classroom, such as limited homework, no grades, no punishment/no rewards.  I am often found without an answer to this question because most parents don’t have a reaction, or at least not an adverse one.  While this may stem from all of the upfront communication I do at the beginning fo the year, it may also be that parents actually like the changes I have incorporated.  (And sure, some don’t, I am not perfect, but 99% will start a conversation then).

Often parents seem to be cast as our enemies or adversaries   Those poeple who think they know but really don’t.  Those people who may think they have the best interest of their child in mind but really are terribly outdated in their notion of school.  I ave found that my reality couldn’t be further from the truth.  The parents I work with are educated on their child and their needs, they are the ones that know them best.  They also know that school has changed since they went themselves, and many welcome the changes that they see.  Many are glad that their child is not subjected to the same drill and kill as they were in their youths.  Many have questions, rightfully so, and start real dialogue with me about why I do the things I do.  Often I walk away with great ideas from these conversations.

It is too easy to cast parents as the bad guys when we are afraid of changing our classrooms.  It is too easy to think that they will be opposed.  We truly wont know until we try, and we truly wont be able to try until we get parents aboard.  It is not as hard as it can look to be, but it does take courage and placing faith in your parents.  Are you willing to do that?

reflection

Should Principals Have Term Limits?

Pernille Ripp
Note:  This post is me starting a conversation coming from a teacher’s perspective, hoping teachers and administrators will share their thoughts.  This is not a solid opinion of mine but a question.  This is also not in relation to my own principal, I hope that clarifies.

I was asked once where I thought this whole blogging thing was going, what was my destination?  I had no answer so the questioner asked me whether I would ever become a principal.  I quickly answered no and when pressed to explain I told them I was worried about losing my relevance after a few years, that I would not be able to stay current and soon my ideas would be as outdated as my outfits.  See teaching every day keeps me in the know, in the moment with these kids, so every day I have to adapt, every day I have to figure out new situations.  And even now just 5 years into my teaching career some of my original ideas are already outdated and have definitely lost their relevance to anyone but myself.

I bring this up because I cannot help but wonder whether principalships should have term limits of sort?    

Should principals only be allowed to be one for 4 or 5 years before they are automatically kicked back to the classroom for a year?  Then when the year has passed they can reapply for another principalship. And yes, this idea is completely cumbersome and a little bit crazy and I am not even saying it is the right idea, but how do we make sure principals stay relevant in their knowledge when sought out by teachers?  After all, there are only so many conferences, articles, discussions you can experience and even those will never add up to more classroom experience.  And perhaps it is not needed, perhaps principals stay current through their teachers but don’t they also need to rely on their own teaching experiences to help them guide kids and teachers alike?  I don’t have the answer.

Since I am not a principal and I am genuinely curious, I would love your comments on this:

  • Can principals give relevant advice after they have been out of the classroom for many years?
  • Does it matter how many years they taught?  Or does it only matter how they are as a leader?
  • How do we feel as teachers when our principal has not been in the classroom for more than 10 years and still uses their own old experiences as their measuring stock for every question?  Does it work?

I don’t have the answer, only this huge question that I cannot answer.  I would love to hear your opinions on this.

Be the change, reflection

I Get So Sick Of Being the Change

Pernille Ripp
Sometimes I get sick of being the change, of leading the charge, of paving the way.  I get sick of all the bumps and bruises from trying something new, from being honest and sharing it with whomever will read.  I get sick of having to defend Twitter as something more than conceitedness or hobnobbing with people “that aren’t really my friends ”  I get tired of explaining again why I don’t take recess, why I have a hard time bribing kids, and why grades – whether A’s or 4’s – really don’t belong in education.

I get so tired that I make myself believe that perhaps if I shut my mouth the path would get easier.  That if I stopped blogging about it all perhaps no one would notice and I could just do my things, my way.  That perhaps if I just swallowed a big dose of reality and learned that what is happening now in education is what will be for years to come and I better just get used to it, then my life would be easier.

But then I am told to share my story.  A friendly stranger ask me why.  Schools ask me to help them out as they struggle with the same things I do and I regain my faith in the change and being the change.  I knew this path wouldn’t be easy.  I knew this path would sometimes double back, twist and turn on itself, and lose me.  Yet, I follow it because I see where the path leads; to change, the right kind.  The kind many are hoping will come.  I have to keep believing and I have to share my stories so that others will know it is ok to share theirs.

Clarification:  This post is more a comment on trying to change how education is done in general, rather than people around me.  I think it is tough for anyone out there trying to change the massive politically motivated education policy machine and that is what I was trying to address here.

image from icanread