reflection – Page 12 – Pernille Ripp

being me, reflection, Student-centered, students

Is it Okay That 5% Don’t Get It?

March 20, 2014 Pernille Ripp

“…I wish I could do 5th grade over again…” the student looks at me sadness in his eyes.

“Why?” I ask.

“Because then maybe I would have a chance at getting it.”

My heart breaks. This kid has tried so hard but the holes in knowledge just seem to grow as our curriculum picks up speed and we are asking them to do more, figure out more, understand deeper. The math test he holds in his hands with all of the circled problems, asking to be fixed, seems to be insurmountable at the moment. So I rack my brain, what else can we do? My team and I try so hard to reach every kid, to fill in the holes, to help them understand not just regurgitate and yet it is not enough. Some of our kids still don’t get math, some of our kids still don’t grow in areas where we have tried so hard.

And this isn’t the first year, every year we have these kids. These kids that show up with gaps already. These kids that work hard, even if they get a bit distracted, and yet what we are doing is simply not enough. The language we speak in math is above them and no matter how much we try with smaller groups and remediation it doesn’t catch them up. So we keep on pushing, hoping that something clicks and then pass them on to the next year’s teachers hoping that perhaps they have the solution.

We tend to feel successful in our math instruction because most of our kids get it. Most of our kids do well on tests. Most of our kids grow a lot. But is “most” enough anymore? Can we really say we are successful if all the kids are not getting it? Is it okay to base success on the 95% that do and just live with the 5% that don’t. I don’t think it is anymore, but I don’t know how to help them. Yet. How do we reach those kids with their gaping holes in a day that is already chock full of new? How do we build up their confidence? How do we make the curriculum accessible?

I hope you have some ideas to share.

So we can do two things. We can say that is just how it is. That every year some kids will not grow as much as they should. That we tried our hardest and hopefully some of it stuck even though we know it was not enough. After all, most of our kids do just fine with the curriculum, so what are a few loses? Or we can do as my team does. Get to gether and try to come up with a new plan. Try again. Try to reach every kid.

reflection, students

There Should Be No Invisible Children

March 12, 2014 Pernille Ripp

I didn’t know what I would read. I didn’t know what they would say. I only knew we needed to have this conversation.

They gathered on the carpet, waiting for the usual routine to start, but instead I started to read “The Invisible Boy.” They grew silent and then were sucked in, they have become such focused listeners. I closed the book. Told them to grab their thoughtful logs and answer the questions posted. Are there any invisible children in our class?

They wrote, took their time. I read and my heart sank. It was what I feared. Even within our incredible community of learners there were children that felt invisible. Children that felt they had few friends, few who cared. Who felt that they were a part of school simply because they showed up but not a part of something bigger than that.

We gathered back on the carpet and I told them the story of how I moved so many times as a child I never felt I belonged anywhere. That I often tried to reinvent myself when I was the new kid but inevitably ended up being me again. The only person I really knew how to be. I then told them that many of them had said there were no invisible children in our classroom but that was not true. That several kids had been brave enough to share that they felt invisible. That they felt they had no friends. And it was our job to change that.

I didn’t share the names. I didn’t tell them how to fix it, but I told them to really start to notice each other. To not take each child for granted. To not just live by the school rules but to be kinder, to be more caring, to take the time to reach out and start new conversations. That this is not just about finding the new kid and making them feel welcome but reaching out to every child, even the one you think is just fine, the one who you think may have plenty of friends. To really see who is in their class and make sure no one feels invisible.

I don’t know if it made a difference today. I can only hope. There should be no invisible children. Not in our room.

being me, reflection

To the Kid Who Walked Through My Door Last Night

March 7, 2014December 29, 2014 Pernille Ripp

Dear Kid ,

There you were, shuffling your feet, looking at the floor, cautiously approaching me as I sat on my computer after an afternoon of conferences. “Hey Mrs. Ripp – do you still teach math?” I turned around, surprised to see you. “Of course…” I say. You look up, smile, “I think I need some help…middle school is kind of hard.”

But the truth is you didn’t come to me last night for math help. You came to tell me about how you are trying your best but the teachers don’t see it. How it is hard to stay awake some times. How it is hard to not laugh when your best friend does that funny thing again. How the teachers don’t get you even though 2 weeks ago you decided to really try your best but now you think your best will never be good enough for those teachers. They already give you that look, they have already given up.

My heart sank a little. I heard what you said but also thought about the teachers, thought about what it must feel like from their side. Thought about the disruptions, the laughter, the trying to reach you but you’re not listening. Thought about how even though we try to start each day with a fresh new chance for each student that sometimes students push us so far that it gets harder and harder to forget. That we try to see the good every day but that we are human too and sometimes our emotions get involved.

So I told you to prove them wrong. To not fall into your old self, to not let your silliness, your anger, get the better of you. To buckle down not for the sake of the teachers but for yourself. For your future. Yeah, middle school grades may not determine your future but they set the habits that will. To show them what we saw last year. That kid with the infectious smile. That kid that got so excited when something went right. That kid with dreams and plans that were bigger than where they came from or what others believed they could do.

It was time for me to leave. To go home to my own kids that need me. I told you to stop by anytime. That even if I’m teaching my door is always open. That I miss you and I believe in you. You finally smiled, started to turn away then came back and said, “You know, we were your family. We were like your kids last year. We felt that. Are we still?”

I had to take a deep breath, I get emotional really easily right now, “Yes, you are. All my kids are. Doesn’t matter how old you get or what you do. You are still my kids even when you’re not kids anymore.”

He left, waved. I gathered my things and drove home.

I know now that I can’t quit teaching. That is why I do it. For those kids that need us so ferociously to believe in them even when they screw up. For those kids to feel part of our family. For those kids to always stay our kids no matter how old they get. That’s what I teach. That’s why I’m a teacher.

Thank you for coming to my room. Thank you for walking through my door.

Love,

Mrs. Ripp

reflection, rewards

All You Have to Do is Show Up – A Tale of Perfect Attendance

March 6, 2014 Pernille Ripp

When I moved my blog from Blogger to WordPress last summer I mistakenly assumed that all posts would seamlessly transfer. I have since found the error in my thinking and have decided to re-post some of my more discussed posts that didn’t survive the move. This is one of those posts.

Today the debate turned to perfect attendance rewards, something that seems innocent enough on the surface, but can elicit debate in even the most timid teachers. I was lucky to engage in a great dialogue with a trusted colleague but also turned to educators around the world to get their input. The judgment was swift and to the point, most were vehemently opposing them, lambasting them for what they thought they really were; bandaid awards to those students who may not otherwise receive an award.

So why is rewarding students for perfect attendance not a great concept? The ideas were many:

It is one more way for schools to separate the winners from the losers in a public forum.
It rewards students just for shwoing up, not effort, work ethic or learning. What life skill does that teach since there are no jobs that reward you merely for showing up.
Perfect attendance award does nothing but encourage students to come to school even when they are sick enough to stay home or contagious.
It makes losers out of the kids where life situations prevent them from coming to school; funerals, court, counselor appointments etc.
We are rewarding kids based on their parents behavior; whether they can get them to school or not. Why disappoint the kids further that already are battling with parents that may not be able to supply reliable transportation.
If this is the only thing we can rewards students for then we are not spending enough time recognizing or uncovering their talents.
And finally, my own opinion; if we have to reward students to come to school then what value are we placing on schools? School is meant to be a place of stimulation, of excitement, of amazing discoveries. Not a place where you show up just so you get a reward. Not a place that has to have a reward tied to it as theperetual carrot. While I agree that we should celebrate those students that do show up day in and day out, I just don’t think that an award eceremony is the right venue for it.

Add your voice to the debate! Is a perfect attendance award ceremony simply a cute certificate that does no harm, is it no big deal, or is it another way to compartmentalize students?

being a teacher, being me, Reading, reflection

My Students Hate Our Read Aloud

March 3, 2014March 4, 2014 Pernille Ripp

I could tell they were falling asleep. Drowning in their disinterest, faking it just for me. So I tried to make the voices like they like, I tried to quicken the pace. I emphasized the action that happened. Nothing… The read aloud had started 2 minutes ago yet it felt like an hour.

I closed the book. Asked what was the matter.

“It’s so boring, Mrs. Ripp,” whined a student (yes really, whined).

“There’s no action…”chimed another.

“Remember how with “The False Prince” we asked you to keep reading? That hasn’t happened once here!” exclaimed a third. Heads nodding all around.

So I did what most teachers normally do when their meticulously chosen read aloud is torn apart, I got defensive.

“What do you mean there is no action? Didn’t you just read this part? And also, you have to give it a chance, not everything can happen all at once…” I could hear my own sales pitch but I couldn’t stop it. “Trust me, I picked this book and it is phenomenal, it gets so good.” I was starting to sound desperate. I shut the book, sent them off to read, and sat n the rocking chair licking my wounds. How could they question what I had chosen? Didn’t they trust in my opinion?

Now, looking back on it I see what I should have done. I should have listened. Asked more questions, taken their notion to heart and opened it up for a classroom discussion. I shouldn’t have gotten defensive, I shouldn’t have shut it down. I shouldn’t have taken it personally. It is not me, nor the book that is the problem. It is the choice of the book right now that isn’t working, that’s all.

So tonight I realize that perhaps we need to just abandon the book. That it is not a case of me being wrong on my selection; the book is one of my all time favorite books, but that it may just not be the right fit for us right now. That it may not be the best read aloud. That doesn’t make it a bad book, far from it. It just means that kids should discover it on their own, at their own pace, much like I did when I first read it.

Tomorrow when I am with my students again, I will ask them their thoughts. Should we abandon or should we continue forward? I will not be offended, I will not become defensive. I will instead take it as yet another learning moment just like I should have done from the start. Although we try so hard to find the perfect read alouds for our class, they don’t always work. And that’s ok. It is when the students have the courage to speak up against our choice that we must listen the hardest. After all, as teachers isn’t that we strive for them to gain? The courage and independence to form an opinion about something?

My students didn’t set out to upset me, nor to disappoint me. They spoke up so that we could be saved 200 pages more worth of bored read aloud time. I am not mad, nor upset anymore, but instead renewed by the challenge of finding the perfect read aloud. The one that will have the students begging for just one more page. The one that they will clamor to read themselves once I am done. That’s the one I need to find. And the best part, I know it is out there.

Post Script:

Today we talked about the book, I shared with them the new book that they could switch to and then we did a secret vote. In the end, I was surprised. The majority decided to stay with our current read aloud, however, I struck a deal with the other disappointed kids. We will revote in 50 pages and see if we want to continue with it then or not.

I then discovered something important as I read aloud. While I hate to stop a read aloud, I asked them if they knew what a passage meant. They had no idea. Between my sub and I, we had not discovered that the students were not catching a lot of the meanings in the text or even some of the context! I had miscalculated their background knowledge as well as their vocabulary. No wonder they dislike the book so much, they were missing half of the action. As I finished our read aloud telling them a little bit about WWI, I could see I was re-hooking them into the book. While it may not be everybody’s favorite book still, I think it still has a chance…

being a teacher, being me, reflection

I Don’t Know What It Means to Be My Student

March 1, 2014March 2, 2014 Pernille Ripp

I grew up in a small town in Denmark, population 7,509. There was a handful of minority students at my school, all adopted with little knowledge of their old culture. I didn’t grow up in diversity, I didn’t grow up in poverty, I didn’t grow up in instability or transitional homes. I didn’t grow up in anger or uncertainty. I grew up surrounded by the love of my family and kids that looked just like me.

I teach in a school with a diverse population, yet you would not know it looking at our teacher population. Mostly white, mostly female. Much like many elementary schools across the United States. I am asked to relate to my students, to be sensitive to their needs, their background. To be aware of how their situation, their family life, their culture affects their entire being. And yet…

I don’t know what it means to be a minority. I don’t know what it means to come from poverty. Or a broken home. I don’t know what it feels like to be in a classroom where no one looks like you or to be judged because of the way one speaks. I don’t know what it feels like to be homeless or angry at the world. I can pretend I do, but I don’t.

But there are things I can understand.

I can understand what it means to be the new kid. To not speak a language. To not have 2 parents. I can understand what it means to feel the like the world is against you and there is no one that cares. I can understand what it feels like to think that not a single person cares about you in the whole world and that you will always be alone.

I cannot connect to my students using experiences we have not shared and I will not pretend that I can. Yet that doesn’t mean I cannot be a great teacher to them. That doesn’t mean we cannot forge a deep relationship. I can connect with my kids through listening. Through caring. I can connect through the love of a book ,a song, a class or a laugh. I can connect with my students by acknowledging that we are different and that I will never know what their lives are truly like but I will try. I can connect not through their background but what we create together. I can connect with them based on the now, while still acknowledging the before. Together we can try to understand, together we can make a new connection.

I don’t know what it means to be them but that’s ok. I know what it means to be here, now, in our classroom. And that’s a start at least….

I am a passionate (female) 5th grade teacher in Wisconsin, USA, 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. First book “Passionate Learners – Giving Our Classroom Back to Our Students” will be released this April from Powerful Learning Press. Follow me on Twitter @PernilleRipp.