being me – Page 42 – Pernille Ripp

being me, choices, Passion, Reading, student choice

Can We Discuss the Whole Class Novel For a Moment?

March 21, 2015February 5, 2016 Pernille Ripp

I have been pondering the idea of the repeated whole class novel; a bastion of English classes everywhere. I have been pondering why this practice seems to flourish in English classes everywhere despite what it seems to be doing to some students’ love of reading. Frankly, I am starting to get upset about it, after all, it is hard not to when my incredible niece who seems to inhale books told me today that since she keeps being assigned books in school she hasn’t really been reading much else. Which means her grand total of books this year is about 10. Rather than the 50 or 60 she usually reads. From 50 to 10. Let that sink in. She also told me the only reason it’s so high is because over the holidays she read a few books of her own choice, ones she had been waiting to read and finally felt she had the energy to. But 10 books is not very high, not for her at least, so there seems to be a problem here. Her English class seems to be killing her joy of reading.

As someone who has not used whole class books for several years, I am trying to see the need for them. I am trying to take this post and turn it into a discussion, rather than a rant. Yet I keep returning to the question of why we continue to force students to read certain books when that is the number one thing ALL of my students report kill their love of reading?

I see reasons for assigning the classics, in her 8th grade class a few of the titles this year have been Johnny Tremain, Animal Farm, and The Diary of Anne Frank, but wonder why it has to be all classics all year? I also wonder who determines the books being read, when does a book become a classic, and does that list ever get updated? I read Animal Farm and The Dairy of Anne Frank in school as well and that was 20 years ago in another country. Are there really no new classics that can take their place?

I see reasons for having a shared text to discuss, analyze, and work with, but wonder if it can be done through a read aloud rather than an individual read? Or could it be just one part of the year rather than every unit and every book?

I see reasons for presenting students with great book choices but wonder if they all need to be reading the same one at the same time? Can the teaching purpose be reached in a different way?

What is the grand purpose that is eluding me? Why does this tradition continue? Why is something that is inherently harming some children’s love of reading being continued in so many schools? It is just me that worries? Is it a rite of passage that all readers have to go though and we hope they just make it out alive, reading love still somewhat intact? Am I overreacting?

PS: You know what is incredible though; my niece still loves her English teacher. She doesn’t see the curriculum as a flake in that teacher’s ability, which says a whole lot about that teacher and their ability to connect with students. So while she longs for the days where reading was just fun, she doesn’t hold it against the teacher. And bottom line, that matters too.

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. I have no awards or accolades except for the lightbulbs that go off in my students’ heads every day. The second edition of my first book “Passionate Learners – Giving Our Classrooms Back to Our Students” will be published by Routledge in the fall. 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.

aha moment, assumptions, being me, MIEExpert15, Passion, student voice

Why Do We Hold Students to Higher Expectations Than Adults?

March 17, 2015 Pernille Ripp

I told one class today that I was not there for their sheer entertainment. I didn’t raise my voice, nor did I yell. I simply stated it and asked them to step it up, to show engagement, to show me that what we were doing mattered to them because I could tell they were checked out and it made me unhappy. And then we continued on with what we were doing. Just another moment teaching 7th grade.

Yet, as it popped back into my mind, a seemingly insignificant moment from my day, I now see what a missed opportunity it was. Not for another lecture, but instead to realize that these are kids that I am teaching. Kids that we hold to insanely high expectations every single day. Every single day, we expect full commitment in every subject matter. We expect passion. We expect interest. We expect a willingness to try, to create, to experience We expect them to pay attention, to shut everything out except for what’s in front of them. We expect total compliance with all of our rules. At. All. Times. No Excuse.

Yet as adults those same expectations don’t apply to us. Go to any staff meeting or professional development opportunity and you will see adults not paying attention all of the time, not trying all of the time, not tuning in all of the time. Not because we don’t want to. Not because we don’t find it engaging, but because we can’t. No one can. Our brains need a break, and we know it. So we allow ourselves to fidget, to whisper, to slouch, to shift our attention for a moment, because we know we need it.

So why do we forget this fundamental truth when we create our learning environments? Why do we forget that in the very place where we are trying to fire up as many brain cells as possible, that those same brain cells needs a moment to recover, to regroup, to make new connections? That kids need a moment. That these kids are trying. That these kids do want to learn and most days are giving us the best they have. And yes, I get why we have to have high expectations, we are teaching them to be better humans, but at some point we also need to give them a break, because they are human beings first not just learners.

So tomorrow, I will remember that when my students start to slouch, when they start to whisper, when they start to drift, it’s not a reflection always on what we are doing, but more that they are in school and have been working for x amount of hours before they got to me. It’s not always that they don’t care, it’s not always that they don’t want to learn, it’s not always that they are bored. Sometimes they are just full and it is up to us to help them through.

being me

What We Seem to Forget

March 14, 2015 Pernille Ripp

Today I turn 35. It feels like an accomplishment. After all, 35 is so serious and I look at my own life and I realize; it’s a good one. Every year on my birthday for the past many years, I have received a Futureme letter. A letter written on the previous year’s day as a reminder to myself of what my hopes, fears, and dreams are. As a reminder to myself to pause, reflect, and appreciate. This year’s letter mentioned the hopes for Augustine, our very premature baby, and how I hoped she might be walking by now. In March of last year, she was still so little and we had no idea what the future would hold. My worries for her shine through in the letter and now they seem so distant. She is fine. She has been walking for several months now, she sleeps well, and she runs after her siblings. Reading the letter brought me back to those nights spent worrying about her future. I am thankful for that.

Because the thing is, we forget how much we accomplish in a year. We forget what consumed our thoughts, what goals we had. Once we reach them we forget how passionately we yearned and how so many decisions hinged on making it there. We forget how many days are in a year and how much can change so quickly. And when we forget we forget to celebrate all that have happened, how we have grown, and what we now can do. We live our lives so quickly, chasing after our next big dream that the dreams of the past fade away so quickly.

I see it with my students as well. They forget how they felt about reading or school when they started. They forget where they started, they only see where they are now. They only see the things they cannot do right now and not all of the things they have conquered, how far they have grown. What a shame that is. What a shame that in our hurried school days we don’t take time to celebrate how far they have come until the very last day. When it almost seems to late to realize that yes they have grown and yes they are ready for the next big challenge.

So this year, on this day, I am celebrating the little things; Augustine walking and sleeping through the night, Thea starting to read, the twins speaking up a storm, a husband who still loves me even though I know I am a demanding wife, an incredible new job where I feel like I fit even on the days my lessons fail, 2 books that a few people actually say have helped them, a new home that isn’t falling apart, a cup of tea, great books, and a life filled with so much love.

I don’t know what the next year holds. I have been working on my bucket list for the year. And that’s ok. I will continue to hope and dream. I will continue to revel in the accomplishments in the past, hold on them for today, and then set my sights on the road ahead. I know it will bring many days of happiness and some days of sorrow, whatever they are, I am ready. 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. I have no awards or accolades except for the lightbulbs that go off in my students’ heads every day. The second edition of my first book “Passionate Learners – Giving Our Classrooms Back to Our Students” will be published by Routledge in the fall. 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.

advice, assumptions, being a teacher, being me

The Mighty Will Conquer If We Let Them

March 10, 2015 Pernille Ripp

Augustine, our youngest, was born 10 weeks early. Weighing in at less than 4 pounds, unable to breathe by herself, we were told the consequences her hasty arrival might have on her. We were told that there might be blindness. We were told there might be attention issues. We were told there might be learning disabilities. We were told that some of her deficits would not show up until she was much older, surely lulling us into a false sense of security. The problem is; nobody told her.

So when she left the hospital at 5 pounds, 4 weeks ahead of schedule, she didn’t care what her plan should have been. When she started to crawl at the age of 7 months, she didn’t care that developmentally her age was 5 months, and 5 month old babies shouldn’t be crawling. At 11 months she shouldn’t have been walking. At 13 months she shouldn’t have been trying to make words. She shouldn’t have been trying to run after her siblings or do what they do. She shouldn’t be so small, yet be so mighty, that even the NICU doctors can’t believe how ahead she is. No one told her that she should slow down, act her age, stop developing, stop getting ahead of where she really should be. We may have been told what to expect but we didn’t have to believe it, and really Augustine made that choice for us anyway. Yet, we also had a choice as parents when we took her home; treat her with the expectation that life would be harder for her or treat her the same as our other children. The choice was easy for us.

I think of the labels we place on our students, of the expectations we have based on our casual judgments. How we label some students slow readers, struggling writers, or problem students. How our report card comments, parent/teacher conversations, and casual references become the labels that our students define themselves by. No child comes to school thinking they cannot achieve their dreams, school plants that seed in their heads through the expectations we set.

Augustine serves as a daily reminder for me that we can expect our children to soar or to fail. That we place limitations on our students based on our own beliefs of their capabilities. That we can create more obstacles for them than there was before. That how we handle them, how we speak to them and about them can determine the path they take in life. I wan tto make sure my words set high expectations, that my words will help students achieve, not lessen their dream, not change their focus to something more within reach. Augustine is conquering the world with us cheering her on; doesn’t every child deserve that same chance within our schools?

assumptions, being me, control, punishment

When a Child Gets Angry – We Punish

March 8, 2015 Pernille Ripp

It has been two days since a black unarmed teenager was shot and killed by a police officer here in Madison. 15 minutes from my house. He went to the high school across my street. For the past two days, we have checked the news, watched the protests unfold, and searched for answers much like the rest of the country. This is not a post on what happened, because I do not know. But in the past two days I have been inherently aware that we live in a country that solves its problems with force. That we keep ending up in situations where unarmed children are being killed because that is the resort we go to. As the teen’s grandmother shouted to the police, “Why not just tase him?”

We see it in our schools as well; the escalation of punishment and force when a child, according to us, gets angrier. When a child loses control and reacts in a negative way, we take away the rest of their control to show them that we mean business. They lose all power over their day and then we wonder why they get angrier rather than just give in. When a child comes to us angry, we assume more will follow and we prepare plans for what to do when that anger comes, not plans for how to keep it at bay. We live in a society that punishes rather than investigates.

I have had the angry children in my classroom. I have had the kids with the file, with the police records. With the outbursts that scared me. I have had the child who threw a table across the room when another child called him a name. I have had the child where parents didn’t want their child in the same room, afraid of what would happen. I get it; fear is a powerful emotion, and when it comes to being fearful for our own safety or that of others, it becomes critical that we react.

Yet it is within our reaction that we must pause. If a child is angry or violent, we must ask why? We must dig for answers until something is uncovered. Yes, start the plans, but start the investigation at the same time. Relationship and trust has to be our first line of defense, not excessive force. Not assuming that the worst will happen, thus waiting for it to happen, and then not being surprised when it does. If we look at an angry child and expect anger, we will find it. If we look at a child that may become out of control, they will. Our mindset is what has to change, even if it means pausing before reacting. We have to stop our line of escalating punishments if they are not solving the problem.

So with all of my angry students, I had the showdowns. I didn’t always call for the principal, and perhaps I should have, but instead I stood my ground and asked questions; why are you doing this? Why is this your reaction? How can I help? I even cracked a joke or two. And it wasn’t a miracle, these children did not change overnight, they still got angry, they still threw chairs, but at least sometimes I knew why and I could work on that. Yes, there were consequences, but they were ones that made sense; speaking to the counselor or the psychologist, working through it with me, parents getting involved, teams put in place. Not suspension, not detention, not always.

For the past 5 years I have tried to give power back to my students. I have asked them what they need in our classrooms to learn. I have listened and tried to provide a classroom that they felt in control over, where there was room for them, where they didn’t have to escalate to get what they needed. I have moved away from my own instant judgment and punishment as much as possible. It has been hard. My gut reaction has often been to punish, yet I knew that long-term it would not help the child but only grow the problem. I am not alone, other educators have been doing this for years, so how do we do it as a nation? How do we move away from more and more force being used, from creating more angry children who end up becoming angry adults? What can we change? And what can we change right now?

PS: I don’t know what prompted the officer to shoot Tony, I don’t know if there was anger. The post is simply the train of thoughts that were prompted based on what my community is going through.

assumptions, attention, being a teacher, being me, student voice

All Hail the Kids

March 6, 2015 Pernille Ripp

I never thought I would be the parent of a child who couldn’t pay attention. Who had a million ideas in her head except for the one she should be focusing on. Who tries so hard to look you in the eye yet can only last for a few seconds because that thought she just had is just so amazing and she has to tell it you right now. Even though you are talking. Even though now is not the time to interrupt. I never thought my child would struggle with reading. I never thought my child would struggle with sitting still. I never thought she would be like this. After all, I did what good parents do.

Yet, here she is, in a school that embraces her wholeheartedly and yet those amazing qualities she has; her imagination, her need for movement, her sense of righteousness and independence don’t seem to always fit in a school day’s work. She doesn’t really fit the system’s definition of what good girls do. Because good girls pay attention when asked. Good girls look you in the eye. Good girls are friends with everybody. Good girls know how to do school. Good girls are teacher-pleasers, peacekeepers, and direction followers. Not wild girls with crazy hair, incredible ideas, and a need to go go go. Thank goodness her teacher loves her.

My child doesn’t fit the mold of what a girl should be and yet she amazes me. The stories she tells are far-fetched and fantastic. The way she carries her emotions and feels others’ pain. How angry she gets when she feels the world is against her. How she declares everyone her best friend. She doesn’t know what good girls are supposed to be like, and I hope she never does. Because in her I have found an independence I never knew a child could have. In her I have found the realization that not all girls will act like girls, but they will still be good. And also not all boys will act like boys are supposed to but they will still be good boys.

All hail the girls that break the mold. The boys who dare to defy. The kids who make us worry and yet continue to captivate us when we wonder what they will do next. There has to be room in our schools for them. Not just the kids that are easy to teach. Not just the kids that do as we ask. All hail the kids who are themselves in a world that tries to define them.