being me – Page 7 – Pernille Ripp

Be the change, being a teacher, being me

The Teachers Tell Us…

June 20, 2019 Pernille Ripp

A reflection…

Working through my keynote for this morning and I keep coming back to this moment from my own students – I asked my students who the “bad” kids were and they answered, “The teachers tell us…”

Even though I was there to witness it, it still hits hard every single time I see it. The power we wield, as educators, as adults, in how human beings see each other is astounding. It is something I carry with me every single time I teach, that through my actions, whether conscious or not, I will shape how a child’s humanity is potentially seen by others. While not singlehandedly determining the narrative, my presence, my being will provide others with a road map of how to see themselves and others.

It is something I don’t feel we spend enough time discussing, pondering, and helping us shape our teaching experiences.

And it starts on the very first day where we explain through our rules what “good kids” do and a child looks at that list and doesn’t see themselves.

That quote is 5 years old and yet, I wonder how many kids would still say something like that in schools across the world.

How many kids would consider themselves “bad” kids because that is the legacy we make for them?

Or how we label entire grade levels as “hard” groups or other awful titles and then wonder why they live up to it?

Words matter, actions matter, and the way we help children shape their identities in school to the point of where some are trying to succeed despite us is something to sit with, and then something to do something about.

Because as the mother of a child who felt unsafe at school due to bullying, who felt her teacher hated her in kindergarten, that was exactly the legacy she thought she should live up to. A child who didn’t belong, who was angry, who was broken.

And as a teacher who continues to screw up, despite her best intentions, I have realized that the least I can do is ask the very kids I teach whether they feel safe and respected and if they tell me no, then do something about it.

Because then, perhaps, we can change the narrative.

Be the change, being me

Chasing Happiness…

June 18, 2019June 18, 2019 Pernille Ripp

For a long time, I have kept a journal, well, let’s be transparent here, not a journal, but a long-standing to do list in a journal form. What started as a commitment to keep a bullet journal has morphed into my own version of my life in a book, with plenty of boxes to check off daily, and also main points of the day. My husband provides the journal, painstakingly researching the ones with the best paper and presents them with pens whenever a chance affords itself, I am lucky like that.

Every morning, while my computer boots up, I pull out my leather-bound journal and make the day’s to do list. A quick brain dump as I think of tasks big and small that need to be completed in order for my brain to change focus and be present when I get home. Sometimes on Sunday’s I make my list for Monday in order for myself to continue to focus on home rather than school as the weekend ends. On the days, I feel disorganized and off it is often because I haven’t taken the time to make my list. On the days I feel more stressed and scattered, the same culprit is at play.

After the to-do lists comes the second part of my ritual, a simple list on the previous day’s page titled “Happiness is…” In the quiet morning hum of my classroom, under the covered fluorescent lights, I try to take a moment to remember all of the happy moments. The ones that brought me peace and happiness that previous day.

This year for my word of the year I chose the word “More.” More love, more joy, more slowing down, more meaning, learning, more great food, naps, and everything that makes life truly worth living; more family, friends, and people who inspire me. More of the good things balancing out the to-do’s and the must do’s in order to be a responsible human being.

And I embraced the pursuit of more, I still do, but I also quickly noticed that my happiness list was dwindling, that in my eagerness to do more, I ended up working more to get more done, to be more productive, and so there weren’t many true happiness moments beyond the big events that stood out. If you looked at my happiness list, you might think I lived a sad life, and yet, that short list also became my realization that perhaps there weren’t as many happiness moments as one might expects but not in the way one might expect.

Because there is nothing wrong with my life, instead, my lens was foggy. I looked for true happiness, that elusive feeling where the world stands still and you get that this moment, this very moment you are in, is of importance. It turns out we don’t have many of those if we compare our lives to others. We don’t have many of those if we are too busy to-doing and not just to-being. What we do have is small moments of joy sprinkled throughout our daily life that we seem to skim over in our task-slaying ways.

So this summer, all four days of it so far, I have been chasing happiness. I have been making my to do list in order to have more moments to add the next day. I have added my yoga, because it makes me feel better, I have added my bike rides with my children as they are all out of training wheels and the world beckons for our exploration. I have added the quiet nights with Brandon as we watch in wonder Good Omens and the illustrious story-telling. The chocolate, the great books – so many great books – the sunlight, the naps, the phone calls and contacts with friends, the pool time, the compliments, the great learning from others. The ideas I am collecting from the learning I am doing that I know will create better learning opportunities for all of my students. I am looking at my own deficits in understanding and not seeing them as faults but instead as a learning opportunity. How wondrous it is that we can learn so much from others and in turn become more than what we were? I am planning for these because it feels right, it feels good, and don’t we all need a little more goodness in our lives?

And so my list is fuller and so is my life.

I know, that life will get filled up again, it always does, but chasing happiness in the form of meaningful interactions is something that will always be worth it. To seek out opportunities that will bring you joy is never wasted, unless the joy is at the expense of other people. I know I can become more than I am due to the teaching of others, due to the time with my kids, due to the meaning I choose to add to my life and pursuits. That is on me, that is my mission. And I can channel that into the teacher I am, that teaches with purpose, with an eye on changing the very experience we have together in order for the children to have a better chance at their happiness pursuit. If, in the moment you are in, there seems to be little joy, ask why. Is it beyond you, because let’s face it, life can be cruel at times, we certainly have already navigated some difficult situations in the last few weeks, or is it just your lens that needs to change?

Only you can fully answer that, but perhaps a list is in order. Won’t you chase happiness with me?

If you like what you read here, consider reading my newest book, Passionate Readers – The Art of Reaching and Engaging Every Child. This book focuses on the five keys we can implement into any reading community to strengthen student reading experiences, even within the 45 minute English block. If you are looking for solutions and ideas for how to re-engage all of your students consider reading my very first 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 me, failure, Student dreams

It Starts Now

June 3, 2019 Pernille Ripp

I have been thinking a lot about failure. About this whole notion of growth mindset and having kids take risks. About how often we ask kids to just keep trying even when it is hard yet seem to fail to do so ourselves. About how often we expect kids to give us their all, their best, their utmost, and then for them to navigate the pieces when it all falls apart, after all isn’t that what having grit teaches you to do?

About the supposed safety nets we have in place for students to fail safely.

About how we tell them that experimentation is great, that trying something new is the way to learn, about stretching themselves into unknown territory so they can discover who they truly are.

About how it doesn’t all add up.

Because the thing is, and I know I have said this before, we say a lot of things as educators without really thinking about what we are asking all kids to do. We say a lot of things without looking at the systems we already have in place, the routines and procedures that wield so much power in our schools that actively fight against this whole notion of embracing failure as another way to learn.

Take grades for example. We tell kids to take risks but then expect them to all succeed even if on shaky ground. If they don’t, then their scores or assessments reflect that. How often do we fail to recognize that it is because we attach subjective scores to something that we boil learning and curiosity into something we never intended. It becomes nothing more than an experiment in playing the grade game rather than the true learning experience it should be.

Take control and compliance. How often do our beginning of the year routines surround getting kids to be quiet, to sit still, to only ask questions when we designate the time for it. To make only the smallest of spaces for themselves in order for all of us to function because you can’t have a functioning classroom if kids are too loud, too energetic, or take up too much space.

Take how we handle behaviors. How often the preferred method is social isolation playing itself out in some form of removal from the classroom. How often we ask kids to leave in order for us to keep teaching and yet we see the behaviors continue as they rejoin us because nothing has changed in the experience, only paused.

How often we tell our loud kids to quiet down.

How often we tell our quiet kids to speak up.

How often we tell our dreamer kids to come back to Earth.

How often we tell our pragmatic kids to dream.

How often we somehow tell kids that to be a successful student all you have to do is play by the rules but then we never hand them a rule book or we change the rules altogether.

And then we wonder why kids say they don’t think school is for them.

So as we race toward the end of the year, or perhaps only the middle depending on your hemisphere, I want to take a moment to think about what my students are telling me they need. About what I am telling them not just with my words, but in my actions, my routines, and my expectations.

About how I need to continue to ask whether I not only would want to be a student in my own classroom, but also could be a successful one. About how we need to not give students a voice because they already have one, but instead need to carve out an authentic space for the things they have to say.

How it starts with asking questions – do you feel respected, does this learning matter, how can we create engaging learning opportunities together? How it continues with reflection – how is my voice and my power being used as a potential tool for inequity, does every child feel safe with me, does every child have a chance of truly belonging? How it rests with us as we realize that there is still so much to be done, and yet so that can be done if we start within the small decisions we make every day. If we take apart the small routines and structures that we put in place to make it work for everyone and ask whether it truly works for everyone, because almost everyone is not close enough. How along with our thoughts surrounding how we want to have better curriculum, we also need to think of how we want students to feel with us and then how we are going to accomplish that.

How when they tell us that they want to change the world, we start with the one they live in every day; our classrooms, our schools, our attitudes.

And it starts now.

And it continues each day.

Because much like our students, we all have so much to learn. I have so much to learn. I have so much more failing to do, only so I can keep growing.

Be the change, being a teacher, being me, summer

Ending the Year on a High Note – Some Must Do’s As We Wrap Up

May 26, 2019 Pernille Ripp

Yesterday, I wrote about what I wanted out of the year and how it had gone, and yet, within that post is also the hope for the coming few months, for the coming year. Isn’t it funny how we, as educators, already start to plan for the “new” year already in the spring?

And so with only a few precious weeks left, I wanted to once again share what my Must-Do’s for the year are in case anyone else wants a few ideas.

I plan on surveying my students. While our school does both a home and student survey, I also need to know what I can work on. Every year, the words of my students help me shape the experience to come. Every year, the words of my students help me grow as an educator. Don’t let the kids leave without helping you grow. To see this year’s survey, paper copy go here – I will do it as electronic version as well, to see that go here

I plan on keeping certain experiences and make a map. Looking through the year and reflecting on what really worked, whether it was a lesson, an idea, or simply a moment, helps us think of the year to come. Don’t let this year end without you realizing what worked. Whether you go through lesson plans or simply write a bullet list, take note so that when the time comes for your ideas to come back, you have a place to start. We have started as a team to create our map for the upcoming year, this helps us plan and discuss what we want our students to experience with us.

I plan on face to face collaboration. Our district believes in paying teachers to collaborate over the summer, which I plan on once again taking advantage of. So as I take on a new class next year (Enriched English), I plan on spending time with those who know more than me. I am so grateful for this opportunity for concentrated learning.

I plan on getting rid of certain lessons. While our experience inevitably changes year after year, there are also certain things that despite our best intentions simply didn’t work. So I am getting rid of them both physically and mentally. Goodbye feedback tracker! Goodbye reading rate tracker! Goodbye to you so that I can make room for better things.

I plan on freshening up the room. Every year, i do revamp of our room, but this year I get to move rooms altogether to a larger room with more room for all of our books. So not only do I get to go through everything, but I also get to set up a whole new experience for the students. However, if I wasn’t moving, I would still move furniture, go through files, weed books, and just refresh everything. While we don’t have a lot of fancy furniture, these small changes help keep the pride in the room intact which shapes the experience.

I plan a focus. This summer, I get to both teach others and learn from others and so I need a focus. Where does my craft need to grow? Writing continues to be a focal point, as well as the hard work of equity and social justice. And so I go to conferences with a few goals in mind. I read PD books with these goals in mind. I reflect, invent, and write down ideas with these few goals in mind. In the past, when I have had a broad focus, I feel I have learned little, but when I have a few questions in mind, such as how will I continue to help students understand their role in the world or how we will we create more meaningful writing experiences that will help students reignite their writing identities, then I leave summer with a few tangible ideas that shape our experience together. Some of these books are re-reads, others are brand new and I cannot wait to let the work of others shape the every day work I get to do with students.

My stack of summer PD reading awaits – I can’t wait.

I plan a break. Teaching is amazing, it is my favorite thing to do as far as work., but it is also exhausting, heartbreaking at times, and hard. So summer is time for a break, and not a kind of break where I still work, but one where I feel no guilt for not checking my email. Where I feel no guilt for reading whatever I want even if it is slightly trashy. Where I feel no guilt for not checking in, creating something, or coming up with new ideas. But you have to plan for it or it won’t happen. We know how consuming teaching can be, how it can spill into every part of summer, but don’t let it. Allow yourself to detach completely so that you can get excited. So that you can let ideas marinate in the back of your mind. So that you can remember what it means to have a life, if even for a little bit, outside of teaching. Because if you never leave, then you cannot get ready to come back.

Summer is a break. A much-needed one for many. But it is also an incredible time to become something more than what we ended as. To remember why we entered teaching. To get excited, to catch up on sleep, and to become the very best version that we can be of ourselves so that when September rolls around, or whenever our students come back, we can say, “I am so glad you are here,” and truly mean it.

PS: In case, you missed the announcement, I am running a book study of my first book Passionate Learners this summer in the Passionate Readers Facebook group. You should join us as it kicks off next weekend!

being me

What Did You Want to Be This Year?

May 25, 2019May 25, 2019 Pernille Ripp

I think there may be 3 weeks left of school. At this point, I am not sure, simply because I don’t want to think about the end. While summer beckons, I also want to make sure that I stay fully present with the kids, the ones that I have the privilege to teach this year. Because teaching is a privilege, and at times, I need to remember that.

As we unwind a year of growing, of exploring, of hopefully doing work that mattered, I have been thinking about my own growth. As I pour through the work of students, marvel at their quiet moments of discovery, I wonder what the year has given me, beyond the laughs, the ups and downs, the conversations and lesson plans. I wanted my students to evolve in their thinking, in their reading, writing, speaking, but also in how they saw the world, but what about myself; what did I want for myself?

I wanted to be more present. To not worry so much about the outside, but rather be in the moment with the people who were in front of me. I said no more, said yes more sparingly, tried to tune in and also appreciate the sheer energy that it takes to be a present teacher, present human being, one that isn’t thinking of the next five steps while others are right there with us. I am still working on this as I continue to balance what it means to be a teacher, a mom, a wife, a human being who also needs time to just think and be still. For the coming year, it will mean less public Pernille, and more private me.

I wanted to be stronger. Daily yoga helped me with physical strength, knowing my own limitations and embracing them meant more room for my emotional strength. I recognized that I have given immense power to others who do not know me but have no problem judging me and how exhausting handing that type of power over to others has been for me. I recognized that as an introvert some places, both in real life and online, are simply too much for me, despite how amazing they can be for others. So no NCTE this coming year, yes only to one day of Nerdcamp, and more yeses to quiet reading, to outside walks, to turning off social media, to only dipping into Twitter for inspiration and knowledge rather than lengthy interaction.

I wanted to let go. It is amazing how much shame and embarrassment one human being can carry while realizing that these emotions are the ones I tend to carry with me the longest has both been startling and liberating. No wonder, my energy has been drained when all I can see in the mirror as I look are all of the things I have done poorly. And so there has been a lot of letting things go, of recognizing that once again, I am good enough, and that I don’t need to be perfect, but instead need to be a learner. That when my own family sees me, they see me as a good mom, as a good person, and that I will a better person if I embrace that, rather than what others who are not as important want me to believe.

I wanted to be more focused. Narrowing in my growth areas really helped me navigate all of the incredible opportunities that abound daily in our teaching world. I know I wanted to learn more about anti-racist practices, about helping students claim their voices as social activists, and about supporting the very students I teach, not as focused on the world at large and how I can help others. It meant writing and sharing less, it meant accepting advising roles for 7th grade GSA, for starting a spoken word poetry club, for co-faciliating a BSU book-club, for sitting with the very kids I teach and asking them what they need to be empowered, engaged and feel valued and trying to figure out what I can do to help them achieve that. It meant leading less and listening more, something that I continue to love in all aspects of my life.

I wanted to be more unafraid. Unfraid to be who I am, unafraid to explore what I do not know, unafraid to share my mistakes as I have in the past, but also unfraid to settle within myself and realize that perhaps my path does not continue in America but rather that as an immigrant to this nation, it is perhaps time for me leave. And so we have started exploring options, to see whether we can go home to Denmark or even Europe as international teachers once my husband finishes his degree as a Tech Ed teacher in a year and a half, whether somewhere else in the world will be our future destination. It is scary, yet exciting to think of uprooting my family like that, but I have never fully felt home in America and so perhaps home is waiting to be found out in the world. Even if it means leaving vital parts of our life behind.

So as I think of the year to come, of the new opportunities to come, I am excited to first have a summer of traveling, of reading, of being at the pool with my kids, of sipping as much tea as I can, of farmers’ markets and library visits. I am excited to rebuild my energy and excitement so I can say yes again. Yes, to somehow helping with the start of a Hispanic Student Union at our school, yes, to teaching an enriched English class, yes, to diving further into equity and anti-racist work, yes, to learning how to be a better teacher of writing. Yes, (perhaps) to writing a series of blog posts or a book that will perhaps help student dive deeper into reading identity, but not committing to anything I don’t have energy for if I can help it. Yes, to walks, to reading with my kids, to yoga, to eating better, to reducing our plastic usage, to traveling, to singing music loudly, and to getting more tattoos. Yes, to exploring new opportunities with an eye for what I can learn, rather than what I can teach.

And so I wonder, what has the previous year taught others? How did you grow? Did you accomplish the goals you set out to reach or did you realize that your life needed something else? What did you want to be this year?

being me

Dear @Pink

May 3, 2019May 7, 2019 Pernille Ripp

Dear Pink, or should I call you Alecia?

You don’t really know me, not much any way, not unless you count the few minutes last night that we met in a back hallway in the Fiserv Forum as you hugged my little girl, Thea, who is not so little any more, and told her about your own experiences with bullying and how we could not let them win.

I was Mama, the woman who stood there with tears in her eyes, not quite sure that the scene that unfolded in front of her was real. Not quite sure how we went from sitting in a seat waiting for you to come onstage, fulfilling one of our bucket list items together, to standing here in your presence. Trying to decide in that moment whether we deserved to be here with you, you who have given so much of yourself to the world already. You who fight for the under dog. You who say the words that so many of us want to but sometimes don’t have the courage to. Yet here we were, living out a dream, neither one of us had ever contemplated.

You saw my tweet celebrating that the bullies had not won. That we were going to use your concert as a way to celebrate that no matter what words they flung at Thea, no matter how hard they pushed, how hard they hit, how many times they chanted all of those ugly things, they would not win. That they did not win.

And so you gave us the most valuable thing you have; your time, and for those few minutes, you changed our lives, cementing a course we had already begun, but gave us the push to keep going. You saw us in our quietest but biggest moment of reclaiming. You saw us face those words that had kept us awake for so many nights. You saw the tears of what it feels like as a parent to not be able to defend your child, to not be able to make your child believe what you shout loudly all the time, you saw the love that we have for our children and how we would do anything to build them up.

But what you didn’t see last night after you gave us your time, was how Thea reacted. How at first, she couldn’t believe it. Neither of us could. After all, who would think that a tweet would lead us to hugs and talks to you? How we kept telling ourselves that this was real, that this had happened, that you were exactly what we thought you would be – passionate, caring, real.

But what you didn’t see last night, was my little girl, who like I said is not so little anymore, feel like she was truly somebody worthy. Feel like the past year, with all of its anger and tears was no longer her year, was no longer her defining moment. Was no longer the story she was writing.

What you didn’t see last night was when you talked about Thea on stage and then sang the song we had yelled at the top of our lungs so many times at home, that Thea had tears in her eyes. My girl, who does not cry unless she is hurt badly or very tired, stood their singing along with you from section 116, row 14, seat 1, screaming your words back at you, telling you that she believed it too.

Because that’s what meeting you did for her. It allowed her to believe that the words were meant for her. That all those times we sang “…change the voices in your head, make them like you instead…” we meant it. That those words were real and true and everything I , as her mother, wanted her to believe.

So when you sang, “Pretty, pretty pretty please, don’t you ever ever feel, you are less than, less than perfect…” Thea reached for my hand, squeezed and then turned toward the world and sang. She knew the words were hers but sang loudly for the rest of the world to hear them as well. For all those kids who need those words. For all of the adults, including me, her mama, who needs them too.

So dear Pink, thank you. Not just for making the embers of what Thea is turn into a fire. Not just for giving us your time. Not just for being you and fighting for us all. But for telling Thea that what the bullies had tried to make her believe was simply not true. For allowing Thea to take a moment to tell you how she admires you. For telling Thea that she was beautiful.

And for giving me the reminder that we can all be more like you. That as a teacher, I get to tell the kids that are in my care every day, how amazing they are. How much they matter to the world. How with every moment I am with them, I can be like you, and help them see the beauty within themselves.

This morning as I drove Thea to school, she was unusually quiet. I asked her what was wrong and she told me that she was so sad it was all over. That the night before had ended. But I realized that in that moment that she was wrong and I told her so.

I told her, “This is not the end, this is the beginning, your journey forward has just begun.”

And her smile came back and I dropped her off and I swear she floated as she walked.

So dear Pink, thank you. From one mama to another, thank you for what you did last night. Thank you for fighting for us all. Thank you for putting yourself out there so little girls, and not so little girls, can remember what it means to be unapologetically amazing. And for us who have been around a while to remember it too. We can be the light that shines on others. We can be the arms that reach out. We can keep going even when it burns because like we sang with you just last night, “…just because it burns, doesn’t mean you’re gonna die
You gotta get up and try, and try, and try…”

So that’s what we will do, keep trying. Keep believing. Keep living. Keep knowing that we are not broken, just bent…

Love,

Thea’s Mom