being a teacher – Page 86

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.

aha moment, being a teacher, being me

A Much Needed Reminder

November 26, 2015 Pernille Ripp

For the month of November, I have seen all of the practiced thankfulness. The posts on social media sharing what we are thankful for, the handwritten notes passed from person to person, the drawings and cards sent home from classrooms. November, it seems, is the month that reminds us just how good many of us have it. And for that, I am truly thankful.

Because we have it better than we think. At least, most of the time. We have it better than we realize. Many of us are surrounded by people who care about us. We have the things that give us a good life. We have jobs that even when they are tough center around the love of learning. We get to work with children. We are lucky, even when we forget it.

As I sit in my heated house, with the lights on, with food in the fridge, and new outfits for the kids, I cannot help but be humbled by all that we have. By all that we take for granted, and not just today, but every day. My kids are safe in our neighborhood, they have access to great schools, they are loved and protected by their family. They are given access to a life that many children around the world, and even here in my very own country, can only hope for.

So I hope this Thanksgiving will be a reminder to be more thankful. To see the good in the bad. To realize that even on our toughest days there is still love around us, there is still happiness. That sometimes the things we get so caught up in really should not be worth our time. That the things that upset us pales in comparison to what others go through.

So I give thanks to the little things. And strengthen my commitment to not remember that we are the fortunate ones. That we live privileged lives. Even on our bad days.

aha moment, being a student, being a teacher, being me, student choice, Student dreams

All The Things I Have Not Done

November 25, 2015 Pernille Ripp

It is time for me to make a confession. It is time for me to come clean. Because it is easy to speak about all of the things we do in our 7th grade classroom, it is easy to share ideas, to give advice, to hopefully help others engage students more. And yet…some of those things that I love the most we are not even doing.

We haven’t started blogging yet. This monumental cornerstone of our classroom has not found its hold. It lurks on the horizon, taunting me, reminding me of its presence, and yet, we are not bloggers. We haven’t had many discussions of how to change education, how to share our voice with the world, how to make a change so that the schools we go to become better with us in them. We have not been geniuses or innovators. Nor have we Skyped much. We have not taken the system apart only to put it back together. And I am ok with that. For now.

Because while we have not done all of those things, we have slowed down instead. We have gotten to know each other, we have read picture books, we have book shopped for half a class. We have written stories for our eyes only, the classroom so quiet I barely dare move. We have talked about what it means to be a reader, a writer, a human being. We have stopped when we needed to instead of forged on. And the ease at which we now operate in our classroom is profound. The conversations that slowing down has allowed me to have with my students are irreplaceable.

So while we are not global students. While we are not innovators. While we are not out there changing the world, I know that it is only a matter of time. That my students will get to experience those things when they fit into our day. When we feel the need to take our voices further than our own four walls. I know it will happen, it just has not happened yet. And I am ok with that.

being a teacher

Not Just for Little Kids – What Picture Books Have Taught My Middle Schoolers

November 23, 2015 Pernille Ripp

I never thought of leaving picture books behind. Of giving them away. Of hiding them away in a closet, only to be brought out when the need was immediate. To save them for a certain lesson or day. When I packed up my 5th grade classroom my beginning picture book collection came with me. No questions asked. And when I unpacked my boxes of books, out they came, proudly on display, ready to be read and shared and remembered. And since then the collection has only grown, only multiplied, and their hands keep reaching, and their eyes keep reading. You can say we are a picture book classroom.

Yet, it is not just the books themselves that have made us love them. It is not just the fact that they are on display, nor that they are oh so inviting to the students. You cannot just buy a few picture books and then wait for them to do their magic. The books are not enough, even if they a brilliant start. For the real change comes in how we use them. How they take center stage on the very first day and never leave. How they allow us to build our community, to strengthen our trust, to have incredible hard conversations, and also allow us to laugh.

You can say that picture books are the thread that bind us altogether and we would say that you are right. And yet, when I share this love some think I am crazy. That picture books are too easy for 7th grade and not at all what they need. That they need advanced texts that they can analyze and work with, that will test their skills of comprehension and push their thinking. And so to those that do not quite understand. To those that may doubt their place. To those that think that picture books are just for little kids, I offer the following.

Picture books taught my students that being a better person can sometimes happen too late to fix a situation. That every word matters and so does every action. That stories do not always have a happy ending and that we make a choice every day to be better human beings or not.

Picture books taught us that someone finding their courage to be their true self in a world that wants to stop them need our protection and friendship. That even though someone may choose differently than we would, does not make them less than. Does not make them somehow wrong. even if we don’t understand why. Even if we cannot relate.

Picture books taught us that sometimes innocent illustrations are not so innocent at all and carry far more damage than can ever be expected. Our job then is to notice and pause and discuss and then do something about it.

Picture books taught us to trust ourselves. To fight for our own beliefs and to have confidence in what we discover. That the world has room for more than one right answer and that we all deserve to be heard.

Picture books taught us that reading should move us. Whether to laugh, to think, to yell out in injustice. They taught is that we still have much to learn and much to investigate. That sometimes all we need is a short story for us to follow a path into a larger one. That the world is filled with stories waiting to be discovered if we just start to pay attention.

Picture books taught us that reading does not have to be hard to be worthwhile. But that we can handle the hard when it happens. That we do not have to struggle through complex texts but can instead access them in smaller pieces and that doesn’t make us dumb, or bad, or any other label we may have had before then.

So when people act surprised that I would ever hand a picture book to a 7th grader, I ask them to try it. To build a community that believes in the power of picture books and uses them for good. To create a community where all reading counts, not just the assigned texts, not just the grade level books. Where students are encouraged to read for fun, to read to learn, to read to challenge themselves and their opinions. Where picture books help us become better human beings, not because the teacher told us we had to work on it, but because within their pages we saw something to strive for.

So yeah, picture books may be for little kids as well. But for the big kids, for the ones I teach, they are an entirely new world that doesn’t judge, that doesn’t frustrate, that doesn’t make them hate reading. That helps them become what we all hope they do; better readers, better thinkers, better writers, but most of all, better human beings. All in the power of picture books.

PS: Want ideas for which picture books to have in your classroom, here you are!

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.

being a teacher, being me, books, Literacy, student choice, Student dreams

I Was Born A Reader

November 19, 2015 Pernille Ripp

Some days I feel like I was born to read. To fall in love with stories. To think deeply about the books that I carry in my heart, to get so consumed by the tale of someone else’s life that there is nothing that can penetrate my wall of immersion. On other days, reading is the furthest thing from my mind as I watch my house fill up with dirty clothes, my children’s arms eagerly awaiting another hug, a song, some help. Reading moves further away when the to-do’s pile up, the stacks of paper start to scatter, and my brain cannot seem to slow down. That is when I am my most vulnerable as a reader. When the world is too busy and sitting down with a book seems to be too much of a luxury. I lose touch with the power of reading, but not for long, never for long.

So I continue to come back to books whenever I can. I get through the things that have to get done so my ears can hear my to-be-read pile calling. It is not hard for me to find book, it is hard for me to choose which one next. It is not hard for me to find a moment of quiet, where I don’t have to do anything but read, after all my kids go to bed early. My life has taught me that I am a reader, even if I am not reading. That I am a reader even when I abandon a book, struggle with its meaning,or have no idea what to read next. I am a reader because I have had so many amazing experiences with books that I cannot imagine my life without them.

Yet, how many of our students have that same experience? How many of the children we teach know in their core that they are readers? How many have experienced the freedom of choice in books that we have as adults? How many of them have experienced what it means to abandon a book simply because they wanted to? How many of them feel like finding time to read is an investment worth making because they know their soul will feel better?

It seems our classrooms are set up to cover curriculum, which in its simplest way makes sense, after all, we cannot be teachers if we do not teach. Yet, within that curriculum we need to create reading experiences that allow students to fall in love with reading. To read with wild abandonment because it is what they want to do, not just have to do.

We need to give them enough incredible experiences with books so that they can become readers at their core, and not just because their teacher told them so but because they know it will better their lives. We need to give them enough moments with books that they choose so that when their reading slows down, when they meet a text that does not entice them, they will not give up on reading but rather know that they are in a lull and that this too shall pass. That being a reader means that we don’t always read but we cannot imagine a life without it.

I was born a reader, or so it seems, because my mother never told me what book to read, my teachers never told me my level, and I was never ashamed to admit when I read slowly. The least I can do is offer my students the same thing.