Be the change – Page 27

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.

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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.

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, global read aloud, MIEExpert15

The Worth of You

November 22, 2015 Pernille Ripp

Lynda Mullaly Hunt made me cry yesterday. Right in the middle of a panel session on the community of the Global Read Aloud. I had held my tears back all throughout as the authors had shared what it means to have their book read and loved by so many children on a global scale. I had held my tears back as they had talked about the ways that their books had changed the lives of others, how children had found hope, courage, and determination through their pages. Yet when Lynda told me that the slide showing a globe was for me because I had changed the world. I cried. And then Lynda cried, and I sat there in awe because I never set out to make a difference, I simply wanted to read a book aloud to my students and have them share their thoughts.

So I write this post not to gloat in the Global Read Aloud glory. Nor to say that I am anything special, but more so to tell people that your ideas have worth. That your ideas may make a difference to someone else. That those ideas you carry inside need to be spoken because you will never know what type of difference they may make.

And yes, it is scary to speak a dream aloud. And yes, it is scary to let others in . And yes, it is scary to be proud of what you have created. But it is worth it. Even if your idea changes the course for one other person, or even if just changes yours, it will never change anything if you do not speak out loud. If you do not share.

I never set out to make a difference, I wish I could say I had. But it happened, if even just for my own students as they fell in love with a book year after year and wanted to make the world a better place. Because I dared to speak aloud. I dared to think that perhaps someone somewhere would see the beauty in this so simple idea. And so the Global Read Aloud will continue to make a difference for so many kids, for so many teachers, as we gather in this time of terrorism, uncertainty and a world determined to be dark at times. We need books to connect us because the world seems to be trying to tear us apart at times. We need books to remind us that we are more alike than different. We need books and experiences and emotions so that we can remember that we are humans first and that whatever difference we may have can be overcome.

I never set out to change the world, and I am not even sure that I have. But I had an idea that I dared speak aloud and now cannot imagine a world without it. Share yours; change the world.