being a teacher – Page 97

being a teacher, Literacy, Passion, Reading

The Five Truths of Reading

July 19, 2015July 20, 2015 Pernille Schmidt Ripp

I have been immersed in the world of literacy for the past three days at ILA. I have come up to breathe only at night, and my thoughts have not fully found their resting place just yet. For every session I attend, every connection I make, every person that shares their story, the purpose only seems to grows; to change the way we teach reading in our schools. To protect the love of reading. Because right now we are implicit in the killing of the love of reading in our schools and classrooms. We are implicit in raising a generation that sees less and less value in books. We are implicit in teaching students that there are those who are readers and those who are not. But it is not too late to change this.

There are truths that we have to embrace, live by, and preach as we continue on our mission. These truths are not my own but ones that bear repeating.

We must protect and promote choice. There is no faster way to kill the love of reading than to tell a child what they have to read. And this does not just count for elementary but in middle school, high school, and even college. Where is the choice that allows readers to find out who they are? Where is the time to discover their reading identity?

We must withhold our book judgment. Our glances, our purchases, our book conversations all shape the identities that our readers are creating. When we offer a negative opinion, when we purposefully do not purchase book, when we tsk tsk at a certain book a child is reading, we are telling them that their reading identity is not correct. And that is not our job.

We must be readers ourselves. You must know your books and your students so that you can successfully pair them. Children look for adult role models and they needs us as they grow as readers. So share your reading life, hand over book upon book to students. Tell them you thought of them as you read it and then tell them why. Sometimes the biggest sales pitch for a book is not its fancy cover, but the relationship between us and the student.

We must be reading to read. Not for rewards, not for points, not for accomplishment charts, or even to move through levels. We must read to become better human beings. We must read so that we can shape the world around us.

We must label books, not readers. A child should not call themselves by their level, nor by a title manufactured in school conversations. I loved how Fountas & Pinnell stressed this at ILA. And when I say “label books” I don’t mean with reading levels. Instead, label them with stamps to show which bin they belong to, not their reading level. We do not have struggling readers in our classrooms, they are developing. We do not have slow readers, but meticulous ones. We do not have children who read at a level, but books that are at that level. The very language that we use to frame our reading conversation has to change so that it does not become the choke hold on our students’ reading lives.

There are many more truths for us to hold fast to but these are central ones. We must find the courage to forge ahead knowing that it comes down to us to protect the love of reading we see in our students. It comes down to us to be brave.

I am a passionate teacher in Oregon, Wisconsin, USA but originally from Denmark, 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. The second edition of my first book “Passionate Learners – How to Engage and Empower Your Students” is available for pre-order now. Second book“Empowered Schools, Empowered Students – Creating Connected and Invested Learners” is out now from Corwin Press. Join our Passionate Learners community on Facebook and follow me on Twitter @PernilleRipp.

being a teacher, being me, Student

If You Don’t Love the Kids

July 19, 2015 Pernille Schmidt Ripp

I did not love school as a child. I went. Did my work. Spent time with my friends. Followed the directions and did my homework, mostly. I did not hate school as a child. It simply didn’t have enough significance for me to garner much of my emotion. School was something you did, not something you loved.

Yet, as a teacher, I love school. I love the feeling of coming into my classroom in the early morning hush waiting for the students to fill it. I love the deserted hallways after the last bell has rung and the remnants of forgotten pencils remind us that the kids were just here. I love the ideas. I love the creativity. The freshly sharpened pencils, the unused pens, the brand new books that are crying out to be read. The camaraderie that exists in my school, the stories that are shared, the laughing, the tears, and even the frustration when we just can’t seem to get that one thing right. I love the passion that goes into creation a community. But most of all, I love the kids.

I love the kids and their faith in us that this year will be incredible. I love the kids and how raw they can be, daring us to believe in them when they have stopped believing in themselves. I love the kids and their uncovered stories, their attempts at fitting in, and the way they secretly look for guidance even when they try to push us away.

I love the kids because if I didn’t I shouldn’t be teaching.

I love the kids because my job as a teacher is not to love the learning, the teaching, or the content. It is to passionately believe that the kids I get to be with have something amazing to give to the world. All of them. And so as we prepare ourselves for a new year here in the United States, I hope that we all keep in mind that we are here for the kids. That school is about the kids. Not us. That we became teachers not to kill the love of learning, but to protect it. So if you don’t love the kids, please take a moment to think about what you should be doing. Take a moment to reconsider. Teaching isn’t about us, it is about them. And we start from a place of love.

being a teacher, being me

To the Girl Who Wrote Last Night

July 17, 2015 Pernille Schmidt Ripp

Dear you,

This morning I woke up in St. Louis, ready and excited to present at yet another conference, wondering if I would ever get over my nerves. I quick jumped on my email and couldn’t believe what you had sent me. That long of an email. SO many words. I quick skimmed it to make sure you were okay and then sat down and couldn’t believe what you wrote.

As teachers, and particularly of 7th graders, we don’t know whether what we do matters. Whether what we try with you actually makes a difference. Half the time I felt crazy last year trying to make you and everyone else feel like you were part of a community and that I cared about you. Half the time I felt the eye rolls follow me home, sure that I was not good enough to be your teacher. So thank you. Thank you for not giving up on me as a teacher. Thank you for letting me in to your world, for trusting me, for thinking that I had worth because there were days that I felt like I was the worst teacher in the world.

I am so proud of you and who you are. You have so much to offer to the world, so much creativity to unleash, and I am so thankful that I get to be a tiny part of your life’s journey. I, too, miss school, which is weird, but mostly I miss you students. I miss our every day. Our inside jokes. Our routine, our stories, our moments that took my breath way. I can’t believe that I have to start all over with new kids, start from the bottom again, and only see you guys in the hallway. Yet, that’s what we do as teachers, we put our hearts out there so that you kids have a chance at knowing that you matter, that someone cares about you, even when you don’t seem to care about yourself. So thank you for giving me your words and letting me in. For sending that letter last night. I have been telling the world about my amazing 7th graders, and you were one of them. I have hared your words hoping that others will see the truths that bestowed me with. Hoping that together we can change our schools. I am so incredibly grateful that I got to be your teacher. You will never know how much that title means to me, even after you leave OMS and move into the world.

Love,

Mrs. Ripp

being a teacher

A Story Shared #SemiColonEDU

July 14, 2015 Pernille Schmidt Ripp

Note from Pernille: Once in awhile I lend this blog to others whose story needs to be heard. This on one of those moments. SOothis post is not written by me, but instead by someone who wishes to remain anonymous. To learn more about the movement behind #SemiColonEdu see Nick’s post here.

I want to post this to my own blog in the worst way, but I can’t. It wouldn’t be fair. Its not my battle to share. You see, I have not been diagnosed with depression, but my husband has.

While his battle with depression is not mine to share, my story of living with him is. Depression does not only impact those living with the diagnosis; it impacts the lives of everyone close to him/her. Living with a spouse who deals with depression everyday is difficult, and loving him/her seems impossible at times. Depression manifests itself differently in people, and for me, my husband is quick to anger, but unfortunately, it seems like myself and our children are the only ones who get this version of him. You see, he’s the funny guy to everyone else. But I want to tell you about the day I pushed for help…and got it.

While my husband has suffered from depression for many years, it was a tragedy in his life that gave me the courage to gently nudge him to seek help. I thought it was gently; he likely disagrees. My husband experienced an extreme tragedy. He and his brother were the first firemen on the scene of a motorcycle accident that claimed the life of his “second set of parents.” It was horrible, and the sadness still looms. Shortly after the accident, his anger spiked. He lashed out at me horribly. He accused me of cheating on him repeatedly which clearly did not happen. He fabricated it in his mind, but his imagination was wildly vivid…and hurtful. He barked at the kids loudly and repeatedly for actions typical of kids, like leaving the light on in their bedroom. If he was not angry and yelling, he was angry and silent which was worse. While I knew he was struggling because of the tragedy, it was so hard not to internalize his pointed anger. My kids and I treaded lightly in fear of setting him off. He would never physically hurt us, but his words packed a power punch to the gut.

About six weeks after the tragedy, he had gone on a hunting trip with a good friend. He had been texting me from his tree stand; it was a combination of I love you and I hate you. I stopped texting because I was scared. Through these mixed signals, I realized his thinking was not rational. His mind was working outside the realm of reality. He realized I was ignoring him which fueled his anger, but I could not subject myself to his criticism and mind games anymore. His thoughts were so extreme. Honestly, he was delusional.

Prior to his return home, I called his brother and said, “I’m very worried about [your brother], and I’m going to ask him if he has considered suicide. He is going to be angry with me, and I need you to know that I’m asking him because I love him. I also need you to know I’m not walking out on him.”

Later that day, I did just as I said I would do. I asked him. I used the word. SUICIDE. I cried. So did he. Then he got mad. He assured me he would never do that, but to this day, I’m not convinced it was not a thought in his brain. He slept downstairs that night. The next morning he woke me up to say this, “I haven’t slept at all. I cannot believe my wife is trying to convince me to off myself!” Yep. He said that. I’ll never forget it.

He called me later to tell me he had called the doctor, and there was relief in his voice when he said, he could not get an appointment for five weeks. FIVE WEEKS! The tears poured as I hung up the phone. Once I collected my thoughts, I called the clinic and demanded to speak to our nurse. Apparently, my voice sounded desperate because they put me through immediately. Five minutes later, I had an appointment. Ten minutes later, my husband agreed to go.

The diagnosis started out as situational depression which he could deal with because of the trauma he endured. It has been almost two years, and while I have accepted his mental health diagnosis and the longevity of it, he has not. He doesn’t want to be a “pill popper” for the rest of his life. He doesn’t want to have to take Viagra to counteract the side effects. He doesn’t want to say, “I struggle with depression.”

The rest of the story is being written. Day by day. Month by month. Year by year. I pushed back that day because I love him. I love him everyday; even the days and months he refuses to take his meds. I’ll never know just how close I was to losing him, but I’ll always know he loved me enough to let me help him, and for that, I am grateful.

being a teacher, being me, honesty, student voice

A Students Shares What It’s Really Like Being In Our Classroom

July 12, 2015July 12, 2015 Pernille Schmidt Ripp

For years, I have been sharing the sometimes magical, sometimes fantastical, and sometimes awful things that go on in our classroom. I have been honest in my blogs, I have presented what really happens, not diluted it or polished it to make myself look better. And while my students have blogged for years on their blog about being a member of our classroom I have never had one of them write it on here. Until tonight where one of my former 7th grade students, Corinne, agreed to write an honest post about what it is really like in our classroom. Besides adding paragraphs, I have not edited or added anything to this post. Thank you Corinne for your honest assessment of what it really looks like in our room!

She writes:

There is no doubt that Mrs. Ripp’s classroom is a classroom that anyone would want to be in. Being in Mrs. Ripp’s classroom every week day for a year has taught me so much, not only about English but myself to. Mrs. Ripp’s classroom is place that makes everyone feel important and wanted. Through out the year we did various projects and had various assignments that students sometimes enjoyed and sometimes hated. For example last school year every student that had Mrs. Ripp as an English teacher got the chance to write a non-fiction picture book. This was my favorite project that we did through out the year. I think that so many kids enjoyed it because everyone got to express themselves in their own unique ways.

An example of a project that many students disliked was our book club projects. I think the problem for most of the students who didn’t like this project was the fact that they were being forced to read. That is what I personally didn’t like about the project. For me it wasn’t so much the project itself, it was the mind set it was giving me. So most kids told Mrs. Ripp that they were reading when they weren’t, and then looked up the summary of the book on Google so that when it came time to talk about the book they knew what was going on. Other kids would simply decide that they didn’t want to read and they didn’t want to do the project, so they weren’t going to do it. Others would try their hardest but their hearts just weren’t in it. So then when everyone presented their horrific projects to Mrs. Ripp and we all got bad grades it was this HUGE reality check for everyone. But of course no teacher wants their students to fail so there is always a second chance in Mrs. Ripp’s classroom. Sometimes the second chance was coming in during a study hall and talking about what you could have done better, sometimes it was studying more and then getting a chance take the test again. Getting these second chances makes a big difference in grades and how they improve.

Through out the year in her classroom you get a lot of chances to do a lot of cool things that are once in a life time experiences. I find myself referring to it as “her classroom” but I know that if Mrs. Ripp were writing this she would be referring to it as “our classroom” because that is what it really is to her and that makes a big difference in the way she teaches and how and what you learn in her classroom. All in all being in Mrs. Ripp’s classroom is fun, exciting, interesting, and an educational opportunity that I wish everyone could experience.

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

You Are Not “Just” A Teacher

July 9, 2015 Pernille Schmidt Ripp

“I am just a teacher.” How many times have we said it without even realizing it? Without realizing how much we are cutting ourselves down? How many times have we started our retort, offered an idea, or even pushed back with these words? I am just a teacher so no one has to listen to me. I am just a teacher so my ideas don’t have value. I am just a teacher so what do I know…

But here’s the thing, you are not just a teacher. You are so much more.

You are the first line of defense for a child’s love of learning. The original believer in all children. The person who every day gets up and thinks that they can truly make a difference.

You are a dream-builder. A planner. A wonder-er.

You are a compass for those who may be lost. A map for those who need to find a way. And a flashlight for those who have lost their vision.

You are not just a teacher, you are a pair of arms for those who feel the world is against them. A shoulder for those who need to cry. Ears that will listen to whose who feel no one hears their voice anymore.

You are someone who believes even when others don’t. You are someone who fights even after all seems lost. You are someone who never, ever gives up even when a child has given up on themselves.

You are not “just” a teacher, but instead a warrior whose urgency only grows with every child we meet. A campaigner for others to believe in the good that you see in a child. A window opener when all the doors have been closed.

You are the family that some children don’t get to have. You are someone who cares with everything you do. You are the voice of reason when others speak nonsense.

You are the last line of defense when others say no more, nothing else, we are done.

So yes, you may just be a teacher but think of what you are to all of those kids that you teach. Think of what you can be. And then think of what they will do knowing you were their teacher. So the next time you find yourself saying you are just a teacher, wear that title with pride. You are just a teacher, but teachers change the world.