Be the change – Page 27

aha moment, balance, Be the change, being a teacher, being me

12 Ways I Got My Life Back in Balance as a Teacher

January 18, 2016 Pernille Ripp

I get asked often how I do it all. How do I teach full-time, have 4 children, a happy marriage, and also write, speak, and all of those other things that I am so lucky to do without losing my mind. And the truth is; I don’t know. There are good days where I feel like I have succeeded in most things and there are days where I feel woefully overworked. There is definitely a chase of balance always going on. Yet, there are some things that have simplified my teaching life that I now take for granted. Things that used to take up a lot of time that I no longer do or have changed to allow me to not work as much as I used to. Because the truth is; being a teacher is a never-ending job. Your to-do list is never done. There will always be one more thing that should get done, one more idea to try. Knowing that, I knew I needed to change a few things, in and out of the classroom in order to save my sanity and have a life.

I stopped grading everything. Or at the very least I stopped grading every single thing that my students created. Kelly Gallagher inspired me to do this specifically with what they wrote but Alfie Kohn inspired me to really think about what grades communicated to my students. The thing is when students expect a grade/score/comment on everything they do, they will never learn to create for the sake of growth (rather than a grade) and they will not become students who can actively reflect on their own learning. When we teach in a way where the teacher has the final word on assessment we cannot create conditions for students to take ownership of their learning. That means that students will continue to look at us to see how they did, rather than realize where on their learning journey they are. (To see more on my moving away from grades journey, go here.)

I stopped decorating the room. I used to spend an inordinate amount of time refreshing the room with great new bulletin board displays, changing out student work, and lining up new visuals for the students. Yet my students never seemed to appreciate it much or even notice it. So by student request we formed a student bulletin board committee who took charge of what they wanted to display. Student work is no longer displayed by me, but instead shared with classrooms around the world for feedback through Google and Skype. Anchor charts are made with the students and then removed when we do not need them. We now relish the bare walls that surround us as we try to create an oasis of calm in the classroom. And the time I spent on setting up the classroom to look cute is now spent on other things.

I shut the door. At school, we have an unspoken rule that if someone’s classroom door is shut, they are busy working. Seldom do we interrupt them during that time. While I adore my colleagues (I work at an amazing school with an amazing team), I also know that once we get started on stories, most of my prep will be gone and that is not fair to my own kids at home. So whenever I have a lot to do, I shut the door and get to work. This way the time we are actually given at school is used better.

I wrote down 3 things. My to-do list is usually about 10/15 items long for various things at school and home, yet when I looked at it, I always gravitated toward the easiest things to check off, leaving the longer tasks for “later.” Now I prioritize 3 things that must get done that day and one of them has to be a “harder” task. Once those 3 things are done for the day I can focus on anything else I can do that day. As for the to do lists, I keep a bullet journal that I absolutely treasure. This method of keeping track of my life has worked well for me and has also been a great way to keep memories fresh. I no longer feel like the to-do list in itself is another to-do.

I stopped multi-tasking. I thought I was the queen of successful multi-tasking until I realized how little I got done. Research has shown that our adult attention span is now 8.25 seconds ( a goldfish has 9 seconds) and I wanted to combat that with setting better work habits. So now when I work I close all of my tabs on the computer, turn off the TV or music, and actually focus on getting to work.

I set a timer. I seem to have two ways of doing work; right away or a very long time from now. And yet, I am under deadlines for writing two new books, I have projects to look at and also lessons to plan. So now when I dread a task or feel like I am in a writing slump, I set a timer for 30 minutes. During that entire 30 minutes I am not allowed to do anything but work, this ties in with the no multi-tasking. The thing is with 30 minutes that anyone can spend 30 minutes on something without losing an entire evening. That is not very long and so it tricks my brain into thinking it is manageable. I often find when the time is up I continue working simply because I am now in a groove.

I cut down my email replies. In these days of instant communication, we all seem to get a lot of email. I can only imagine what administrators must get, and I often felt the need to write lengthy replies back typically with various niceties interjected. Yet that is not efficient, to say the least, so I now go by the two-line reply rule. If a matter needs more than 2 lines to be addressed then I either propose a phone call or a meeting. If it is someone I can speak to at school, I try to find them at some point to discuss, and if it does need a lengthier reply then I wait until I have the time to write it well. I also try to be cognizant of how many emails I send in a day; are they really needed or can a quick phone call or face to face conversation handle it instead?

I stopped planning the whole lesson. Now when I plan, I plan the initial steps and then discuss with my students as we flesh out the plan for the long run. This means that they have input, leading to better buy in, and it also means that it becomes more personalized. Planning with my students means that I do not have to have every single little thing figured out, leaving me more time to focus on the big picture.

I got rid of my book check-out system. Even with the advent of electronic check out systems, it was simply one more thing to manage. Now when students want to borrow a book, they simply borrow it. They do not have to ask, nor do they have to write it down somewhere. The only exception is if they borrow a hard cover book, then they write their name on a post-it and stick it on the dustcover which they then hand to me. I keep track of them until the book is handed back and the dustcover is put back on.

I stopped committing right away. I am very good at saying yes; if you email me a request, chances are that my instant reply would be a yes. A yes means that I can delete the email, a yes means I know what to do. Yet a yes also meant that I now had one more thing to do. Now instead of answering right away, I spend time mulling it over and really think about something before I commit to it. This may seem simple but it has been incredible for me. By not rushing to make a decision, I preserve my energy for the things that matter the most to me. I do not feel guilty when I have to say no because that means I get more time with my own kids. And when I do actually say yes to something, it means I am excited to do it. I use this approach for almost all requests that come to me, big or small.

I stopped trying every new idea. I used to think that to be an innovative teacher I had to try every new big idea that was presented to me. Yet, that just means that you work a lot more on things that may not fit into the vision you have. Now, I pick and choose, I do not feel guilty that I have not gamified our classroom or created a makerspace. We do things in a way that works for us. That doesn’t mean I am apposed to new ideas just that I know to only pick a few and to try them out when I can. The same goes for technology; I would rather pick a few tools to use a year and use them well then try many new ones and not know them.

I removed apps from my phone. I removed email notifications and certain apps like Facebook and Twitter off of my phone last tear and I have not missed them. I did not realize how much time I was spending checking in mindlessly. I felt like I was always on, because I was. Now when I check my email I am cognizant of the time I am using, the same goes for anythig with social media. My own children and those I teach deserve me to be present, and I cannot be if I am constantly drawn to the ding of my phone.

Awhile ago, I wrote a post on how balance is much like a unicorn; wonderful to imagine even though it doesn’t exist. And while I still believe that to be true, I do know that there are better ways to balance being a teacher and everything else. So what have you done to reclaim your life from your constant to-do?

PS: My friend Angela Watson is a master at reclaiming work time, I have much to learn from her.

If you like what you read here, consider reading my book Passionate Learners – How to Engage and Empower Your Students. Also, if you are wondering where I will be in the coming year or would like to have me speak, please see this page.

Be the change, being a teacher, being me, new year

Do Something

December 31, 2015 Pernille Ripp

I have always loved December 31st, the last day of the year, our oldest daughter’s birthday. While the promise of a new year lies ahead, the old is not quite finished, not quite over and the wonder of it all hits me. Look at all that has happened in the past year. Look at all we have done.

And yet, there is so much still out there to accomplish. So many changes. So many choices to make. Because too often we sit back and wait for others to decide, we wait for others to fix, to mend, to invent, and to create. We wait for others to share their ideas because we are unsure of our own. We think to ourselves, “if only…” but the words never leave our mouths. And it’s a waste. It is a shame. It is our own fault that we wonder what change could really look like, what our ideas may become, when we choose to remain unsure. When we choose to remain silent.

So my wish for the new year is a simple one; do something. Something to make it better. Something to make it worth more. Don’t sit there and wait while others do, change the world yourself. Find your comfort zone and take a small step out.

Be the change. Be the voice. Be the person that does. I know I am going to try.

If you are looking for a great book club to join to re-energize you in January, consider the Passionate Learners book club on Facebook. We kick off January 10th.

aha moment, Be the change, being a teacher, new year

Purpose and Re-Purpose

December 25, 2015 Pernille Ripp

In all of our clutter and madness. In all of our piles of things. In all of our new toys, books, and unnecessary items, I seem to have found my peace. Mind you, it was not like that this morning when we left the house upside down, Christmas morning and a visit from Santa seems to do that to you. But now, after organizing, sorting, cleaning, and taking the time to appreciate all that we have, I am at peace. I am happy. Because the truth is; we really have so much. And not just in terms of gifts or newness, but in the things that still work. In the furniture we love. In the things that make this house a home.

So while this morning, I thought we needed more furniture, more bins, more things to control all of the new, I now know that it is not new that we need, it is better use of the old. It is the time to see the beauty in what we already have and find better uses for it that suits the family we are now.

And so I look to my classroom as well. How often we are enticed by all of the new and shiny. How often I assume that I need to do even more when my teachings seems off kilter, our metaphorical house a mess? That because the students surely will come back from break dragging their feet a bit, I better ready with all of the glitz. All of the glam. And in that need for reinvention is an assumption, I must throw out my ideas and replace them with something they have never tried before. Because what we are doing must be inherently broken. That what we are doing is beyond salvage simply because the components have been used before.

Today reminded me that this assumption is not true. That rather when something has been done the same way for so long, we tend to lose the purpose of it. That because it is now old, we no longer see its full potential. The wonder of it all that drew us to it in the first place.

So as I think ahead to the new year, as I contemplate ever so slowly of what my students need right now, I think of what I can re-purpose. Of what I can re-use but in a way that will make us love it again. In a way that will make us understand something deeper. Of what I can do to make it feel like a new classroom when they return, and yet also feel like theirs. Because it always has to feel like theirs or my purpose would be lost.

If you are looking for a great book club to join to re-energize you in January, consider the Passionate Learners book club on Facebook. We kick off January 10th.

aha moment, Be the change, being a teacher, connect, Student, Student dreams

How Do We Know Who We Don’t Even Know?

December 15, 2015 Pernille Ripp

I think I teach 128 students this year but I haven’t done the math. There is a lot of them. I know all of their names, have since the first week. I know their writing styles, their book preferences, I know who will avoid me and who will seek me out. I teach 128 students but am not connected to 128 students. I have those that I am closer to. That I joke around with, that come to me asking for help, that leave me notes, that I have nicknames for. I have the ones I truly consider my kids, the ones I consider mine.

Call it the curse of teaching a lot of students, but no matter how much you try, not every kid will become connected to you. That is why I am thankful for my incredible team; I know how much they care about the kids we teach, I know they have “their” kids too that they feel close to.

And yet, in all of those connections, we know that there are kids that do not “belong” to anyone. That do not have a special relationship with a teacher. And by now those kids that we haven’t quite built a relationship with are starting to fall through the cracks.

So what do we do? How do we know who we don’t even know? How do we as a team, whether school-wide, grade-level or in some other configuration figure out who those kids are that nobody is seemingly connecting with? Well, there is a simple way to find out, and no, I did not come up with this idea but wanted to pass it on.

Put all of their names on a big piece of paper and hand every teacher a marker. Put a dot next to those kids who you feel you have a closer relationship to. Then stand back and look. Who has no dots? Who has just one? Discuss those kids. Pay special attention, make a list, and the next time you teach them, ask a question not related to school. Not related to the work. Not related to what you share already. Do it the next day, and the next day. Pick a few kids at a time if there are too many. Invest your time, and not in a forced way, but in a human way. don’t force a relationship, but dedicate time to giving one a chance.

As my brilliant colleague, Reidun Bures (follow her at @ReidunLee) pointed out today, “We don’t see our own patterns of who we speak to. We get comfortable and then wonder why some kids don’t respond to us as well.” And she is right; we all try to connect with all of our kids and don’t see the ones we haven’t quite connected with. Not seeking them out becomes a part of our pattern. But it doesn’t have to be that way. All kids should have at least one teacher that has their back, one teacher to fall back on. And the first step is to grab a marker and make a dot. And then do something with the result.

If you are looking for a great book club to join to re-energize you in January, consider the Passionate Learners book club on Facebook. We kick off January 10th.

Be the change, being a teacher, being me

This Is For the Ones

December 11, 2015 Pernille Ripp

This is for the mothers that worry about their children and how they will do in school. This is for the fathers that lay awake hoping that their children will be loved. For the grandparents that believe. For the families that see the good every day, every moment, even when we know we are sometimes fooling ourselves.

This is for all of us that hope every night that tomorrow our child will have the best of days. That tomorrow their day will be filled with moments where they feel cared for. Where they feel loved. Where they feel they belong. Where they feel that even if they screw up, they will be forgiven. That even if they fail, they will have room to try again.

That their past mistakes will not chart the path of their future.

That their moments of poor decisions will not define who they are.

That others will see the good like we see the good.

This is for the teachers that ask us parents how they can help rather than judge.

For the teachers who call, not because they want to scold, but because they want to know more.

For the teachers who reach out. For the teachers who ask. For the teachers that see every day as a new beginning rather than a continuation of poor past behavior.

This is for you. For all of you. For those who refuse to have the outside world shape the narrative of their child. For those that help us be better so that our kids can be better.

For those who believe that while we cannot change the teachers our children have, we can change the narrative that surrounds our children. That our words carry power. That our words are a shield. That when we speak the truth, even when its ugly, we let others see the beauty that we see in our children, even when they screw up, even when they are less than perfect.

This is for all those former bad kids, whose label preceded them in school.

We have power. Our words have power. Let’s never forget that. Let’s never let our children forget.

If you are looking for a great book club to join to re-energize you in January, consider the Passionate Learners book club on Facebook. We kick off January 10th.

aha moment, Be the change, being a teacher, being me, mistakes

When We Fail A Child

November 27, 2015 Pernille Ripp

This originally appeared on The Guardian’s Education Blog

He was dragged into my classroom, clutched firmly by the arm as if he would try to escape. “I don’t know what you will do with him, but we have given up,” I was told. “He is done with school.” I extended my hand to the mother in front of me, told her my name, and welcomed her and her son into my class. It was the first day of school and my first introduction to Peter*.

For the next five minutes Peter stood in front of me while his mother told me all the things he needed to work on. She told me how she was ready to give up and hoped I could fix him – but she wasn’t holding her breath. With every word she spat out, his shoulders slumped further and his eyes stared more intently at the linoleum floor. I smiled, and did my teacher talk, soothing the ruffled feathers as best as I could. Then I thought to myself: “This year will be great. I will make a difference. Wait and see, he will love school again. I will fix him.”

I had every intention of keeping my promise, but I didn’t. I tried to connect with Peter. I tried to make him participate, to find his voice, to fall back in love with learning. But when he did not do his homework, or messed about in class, I followed my rules for punishment. He lost recess, pizza privileges and had to speak to the principal on many occasions. When he did not conform, I punished him. When he did not work, I gave him Fs. After all, that was what teachers did when a child didn’t follow their rules; they handed out the consequences whether they made sense or not. At the end of the year, when he was suspended on the very last day for yet another bad choice, I knew that I was not meant to be a teacher – or at least not the type of teacher that overrode her own common sense to conform to what society thought good teachers did.

So that summer I found the courage to change the way I taught. I realised that the nine-year-old me would have hated everything about the classroom I had created. I would have been the child with the failing grades and the marks against them. I had to change. I had to create a classroom that I would want to be a student in, that I would want my own children to be a part of.

When we started the new year, I threw everything out. I got rid of my punishment system – no more lost recesses or phone calls home in the middle of class. Instead we would have a conversation and I would ask my students why they acted the way they did, rather than just assuming I knew. I got rid of almost all homework and made a deal with my students that if they gave me their best during school then they could have their after school time back. If they worked hard in class then we could learn what we needed to.

I limited grades, pushed back against classifying students by letters, and instead invited my class to reflect on their own learning, to take control of how they needed to grow and what they needed to do to get there. We discussed when assignments were done and we set goals. And slowly, my students started to ask why they were doing these things, if we could change what we were doing, and whether they could try something new. I said yes, instead of no, and then tried to be the very best teacher I could be.

I won’t lie, it was hard. It still is because every year, I am honoured to teach a new group of students who ask me why I teach this way. Every year I help students realise that they have a right to a voice within our classroom, that their voice matters and that school should be a place for them to thrive, not just survive.

But the system fights us every step of the way – school is made of boxes to define our students. My district is doing everything we can to break those boxes and tear down the notions of what it means to be a traditional school, and to truly make it about students again. We want to make school about curiosity, discovery and about each child, not just each teacher.

A few years ago, I saw Peter again. He had grown up and was no longer the kid with the slumped shoulders. I asked him how he was and he told me just fine. He had switched districts, but he liked his new school better. “I am sorry.” The words slipped out before I could catch them and he stared at me, confused. “I am sorry for not being a good teacher to you,” I said. He stared at me and then finally said, “No big deal, you tried.” And I thought to myself, yes, I did, but it does not matter how hard we try if the path we are on is wrong. And that is why I changed the way I teach. That is why I try to give the classroom back to my students and make school about the kids.

*Name changed to protect his identity.