Category: reflection

Be the change, new year, reflection

What I Wish I had Known My First Year

Pernille Ripp
Another school year is about to start and I am bursting at the seam with new ideas for better learning in my room.  I look back on the two short years I have taught and think of how far I have come already, imagining what I will look back upon in 20 years.  I see success and I see failures and it leads me to think of what I would have done differently had I known what I know now.

  • I would have questioned grades sooner rather than working so hard on averages only to change my mind come report card time.
  • I would have learn to reach out faster to co-workers and particularly veteran teachers that could have steered me in the right direction many times.
  • I would have given up the notion that I must know what I am doing at all times.
  • I would have given up on the teacher lectures and let the students talk more.
  • I would have embraced the noise more rather than futively signaling for quiet – who learns in total silence anyway?
  • I would have pulled down the awesome board and declared all of my students to be awesome each and every day.
  • I would have realized that it is ok to feel overwhelmed and it is ok to not take a huge pile of work home with me once in a while.
  • I would have realized that great learning doesn’t always come from all worksheets or even written work.
  • I would have let students work on enrichment if they had mastered a concept, why beat them over the head with it?
  • I would have given myself a holiday from being perfect.
I would NOT have changed:
  • The incredible passion I feel for my job every day
  • The deep love of my students and their whole being
  • The way I connect with students through sharing our lives together
  • The ability to try new ideas and also know when they suck
  • The reflecting over my failures (but I would have let go of the useless beating up of myself over them)
  • The amazing feeling of responsibility and awe I have over being placed in charge of kids
  • The belief that i can change the world through these kids
  • The love, the love, the love
Happy first days to everyone
Be the change, reflection, students

Dear Arnold…

Pernille Ripp
Dear Arnold,
It was 2 weeks into the school year and there you were in the office; pants down by your knees, no backpack and the biggest grin stretched across your face.  When you asked me if I was your teacher and I said yes, you wrapped both tiny arms around my belly and gave me the biggest hug any skinny 4th grader had ever given me.  As we walked to the classroom, you eagerly asking questions, I thought about how lucky I was to have you in my room since you had that great big smile, if only your pants weren’t so close to your knees.

The class invited you in, they were used to kids coming in from other cities and also fell under the spell of your smile.  Introductions were made, tentative friendships were formed.  Then one day, you started yelling. You were so mad, I had never seen a skinny little child scream so loud and so fiercely standing up for what you thought was an injustice.  Pulling you out into the hallway, I calmed you down and soon that big grin came right on back.

It was like a bubble had burst that day.  The grin was hidden away and the anger and the need to fight for yourself became a frequent visitor.  And yet, you never were angry at me.  I never felt threatened even when other teachers pointed to my growing belly and asked how I felt safe in my room.  I tried to explain to them that you were just being loud, venting a bit, and that all that screaming really was just for show; a way for you to fight for yourself as you had had to do so many times before.

Every morning you would say hello to the baby in my stomach and you would tell all the other kids about it.  Every morning I would remind you to pull up your pants, until I finally got you a belt, which you then strapped around your knees so that the pants stayed right there.  Almost every day I would pull you out in the hallway and remind you to just breathe, the others weren’t trying to make you mad.  Take a deep breath, let’s talk about it.

It was time for the baby to come so I went on leave.  I cried even though I knew my kids were in the best of hands.  I would try to sneak by for visits with the new baby but you always spotted me from the classroom window as if you knew that today was the day I was going to stop by.  You loved that little baby as much as you loved me and you told her that every time you held her.  I noticed you now had sticker charts and reminders of anger management strategies and that your grades were so bad.  And yet, when I walked in that door you told me about the good things.  See Mrs. Ripp, I got a C on this paper.  See Mrs. Ripp, I did this.  Your pride could not be taken away.

I came back from leave and you were the first one down to my room.  That big old hug came out again and you mentioned how much easier it was to hug me now.  Later that afternoon, that angry little boy was there again, yelling so loud for my attention.  Your lungs must have gotten bigger in the 12 weeks I was gone because I had never heard such a noise come from such a tiny child.  Just breathe, it will be alright.

The school year started winding down and we still battled with your demons.  I could read all of your signs.  Your fist closing, your quicker breaths, your eyes darting from place to place.  I knew when that voice would come back and I knew that you weren’t mad at me; you were just mad at the world.  And the world sometimes seemed to be mad right back at you.  That final day when we said goodbye, you cried sitting under your old desk.  You looked up and asked me, “But Mrs. Ripp, what am I supposed to do?”  I had no answer so I simply hugged you one more time and cried with you.

All summer I thought about you and tried to contact you with no luck.    When another year started I was told you had moved again and would not be back to my school.  I just hoped and wished that I had given you enough reminders to breathe, calm down, it’s not you against the world; it’s us against the world.

I still look for you whenever I find myself in a big crowd of kids.  Hoping that from somewhere in the middle of all those little bodies, one set of skinny arms will reach out and hug me and say “Mrs. Ripp, where did you go?”  And I would tell you, “Nowhere, I am right here if you need me.”  Arnold, I am still right here.

aha moment, being a teacher, reflection

My Very Own "Aha" Moment

Pernille Ripp
The following is a new regular feature that will be posted every Monday.  I hope that other’s will be interested in sharing their  “Aha” moment with the world so that we as teachers can see how different we get to our life altering moments and how random people can end up shaping the rest of our lives.  Join me into the journey of “Aha” moments.

We all hear about them;, rumors,whispers, hushed conversation in the hallway, “Did you hear so and so had that moment.” Shock, joy, jubilant outbursts often follow.  That moment being, of course, the evasive “Aha” moment.  This moment is something I chase every day, hoping that my students will experience the sheer joy when everything clicks into place and a concept becomes clearer.  As I grow professionally, my desire to create more of these gets even more insatiable and thankfully so.
Think back to your own childhood, though.  What was your biggest Aha moment?  What, all of a sudden, clicked into place and your future molded in front of you; now you had a direction, a course to steer from, a goal to reach.

Mine was about 6 years ago.  I was 2 years into my teaching degree.  Mind you, this was the second time I had entered college, the first time electing to be undecided, and undecidedly uninspired.  So there I was, my 23 year old self, thinking that maybe this whole teaching thing could be kind of interesting.  After all, I come from a long line of educators and they seem to really enjoy it.  Yet, my heart was not in it.  I had no inspirational stories about my favorite teacher, or how I could not wait to get with the kids.  In fact, I was reaching a rather critical point in where I though the whole degree was kind of a joke since all we were being taught was how to teach fictitious students.  College and teaching just did not seem to be worth it.

Then, I was assigned a practicum.  A teacher, that for some reason really liked me, set it up for me.  It was convenient, close to my house, and it was in special education, something that I had to learn about anyway.  With no delusions of anything grand, I arrived at the school and walked into Melanie’s classroom.  Well, hold on, it wasn’t quite a classroom but rather the old book room where she had been placed for convenience.  The room was full of kids, all sitting around a table writing.  Not a small feat, come to find out, since they all had varying degrees of special needs and they were all being serviced by this one teacher.  I introduced myself and immediately she put me to work making me listen to a child read aloud.  As I sat there listening to this young girl, so eager to share the basic book she was reading, I looked around the room.  This kids loved their teacher and she loved them back.  The praise, the admiration for their effort, and the respect that emanated throughout this room was tangible.  Melanie knew what it meant to be a teacher of all children and they basked in her genuine caring for all of their aspirations.

The 2 hours flew by and I had to go to work.  I thanked her profusely and promised I would be back.  As I got in my car, it happened; my “Aha” moment.  So this is what being a teacher can look like, feel like, be like.  Melanie’s teaching skills and person skills changed my entire outlook on teaching and what teaching meant for me.  During this practicum I developed this high sense of urgency in reaching these students and fell in love with  really, truly, believing that all children can be reached, that all children have a chance at learning, and that you have to believe.  Melanie is the reason I became a teacher.

This story has a fairy tale ending if you would like.  I came back to this school for a year, always making up excuses and twisting my practicum placements so that I could continue to be in Melanie’s room.  When it came time to say goodbye, I cried as the students gave me their handmade cards and pictures.  I promised to stay in touch, which I did, and over a year later, Melanie set me up in my student teaching experience in a 5th grade room in the same school.  Through that I got a long-term sub position that ultimately led to my regular position as a 4th grade teacher at the same school.  Melanie and I are still great friends, and I will be the first to yell the loudest about just how phenomenal of a teacher she is.  She was the conductor of my “Aha” moment, the reason why I am so happy with my life now.  She continues to inspire me in how she teaches her children, how she reaches out and how she touches a community.  I owe her more than she will ever know and every day I hope that some day, somehow I will be the provider of such an “Aha” moment.

Be the change, new year, reflection

Go Ahead; Lose Yourself

Pernille Ripp
This post is inspired by a comment left by Susan, a new teacher, on my post “Do You Dare to Look in the Mirror”

Dear Self,
This year, allow yourself to lose the pointless homework, lose the percents, lose the monologue and for sure, all of the packets.  Feel free to lose the dioramas (wow, I hate dioramas), the stilted book reports, math pages that are beside the point and insane expectations for kids that are trying so hard.  Lose the F’, the D’s and any other letter that comes to mind, and the averages.  Lose the raising of eyebrows over late work, the percent deduction, the phone call home, and the threats of failure if work isn’t turned in.  Lose the “my room” and let it be “our room.”  Let go of black and white and invite in some gray.  Lose the insane motivational posters that just clutter your walls.  Let go of a desk for every student, lose the need to organize them as you do your supplies.  Lose your inhibitions, your fears, your need for privacy.  Lose packaged lessons, and old ideas, or at least the ones that do not work.  But never lose your excitement, belief, warmth, or your heart.

Be the change, reflection

Do You Dare Look in the Mirror?

Pernille Ripp
I am a loud mouth, I have opinions, I try to hide them sometimes successfully, most of the time unsuccessfully.  My school has undergone a lot of changes in the last couple of years and many new staff members have joined, myself included.  When you are new it is hard to not be excited to be there; after all you have just begun your journey.  It is hard to not be enthusiastic.  It is hard to not embrace any new idea that comes your way and then share it with everyone you meet.  While this can be a great quality, in large doses it becomes a nuisance.  We sometimes forget that even though an idea is packaged as a new thing, it is often something that came through the school 20 years earlier.  We are seen as one-track people, closed off to other ideas, too focused on our path and we blame others for being the same way, too ignorant to see ourselves in the reflection.


It is true that we lead by example, so every day this year, I want to be positive.  I want to be a multiplier, as Liz Wiseman calls us in her book “Multipliers.”  People of this nature are leaders that instead of taking all credit, pass it on and enable others to grow.  Ideas are thought of around these people, discussion is lively, other people’s voices are heard.  When you run into a multiplier, you know it; your head is full of new ideas and enthusiasm for whatever you spoke about.  I can point to many of such leaders in my school and in my district and not many of them are in official leadership positions.  

You also know when you meet the other type of person; the divisor.  These people lead from the top, they do not listen to ideas or invite discussion.  They are so focused on their goal, that even though what you say may benefit that goal, they cannot process or implement it. Divisors leave you feeling flat, demotivated, unappreciated, and ignored.  Many times, I have run into these people as well. 

So ask yourself much as I have; this new year do you plan on being a divisor or a multiplier?  Will you open your door to new inspiration, or at the very least leave it open a crack so that a couple of ideas may sneak in?  Will people want to come to you to participate in discussions, or will they be afraid to voice their opinion?  I have been a divisor, and I promise, never again.  However, to start this journey, I had to look at myself and really see myself to discover my effect on others.  Do you have the guts to look at who you are and then be honest enough to see if it needs change?  That is my hope for all the leaders in my school; whether leaders by title or leaders by nature.  Understand yourself so that you may understand the role you play.  Be positive, be eager, but know when to be quiet and listen.  The silence can be just as inspiring as the discussion.

While I cannot change people, I can change myself.  I want to become a full-time multiplier.  I want to spark other people’s intelligence and inspiration.  I want to get out of the way of new innovation, changes, and random exploration.  Not only do I want to be a positive force among my staff, but also min my classroom.  Kids can also be divided into these tow categories but are often not aware of how they affect others.  We must therefore lead by example and point out why some people make us feel better about ourselves.

This is my reflection and thoughts on school leadership as prompted by Scott McLeod’s call for edubloggers to speak about leadership today for Leadership Day 2010.

classroom expectations, reflection, students

Stand Up if You are Average…Anyone?

Pernille Ripp
We just finished a fantastic #edchat on the topic of whether students in the “middle” get enough attention.  Once again, this #edchat really started some thoughts for me, mainly, as asked by @web20classroom if there are even students in the middle?

We label students to make it easier for us to teach them.  Administration likes the labels because they can show how we improve, newspapers like labels because it shows people what their tax dollar is spent on.  Unfortunately, we assume a lot of the time that if a student is “low” in math then that carries over to other subjects as well.  (See my previous post on how I feel about assumptions).  So just as we place kids in the high group, we also place kids as average learners.  Think about the implication of that though; by labeling someone average, which has practically become a swear word, we are closing off our view of them as a learner.  No longer allowed to evolve, that child is just average.  Imagine saying that in a parent-teacher conference.

And yet, our students amaze us.  The biggest hallelujah moments I have had have been when those “low” or “average” learners all of a sudden understood complicated concepts or excelled at a task.  I don’t have those same hallelujah moments when my “high” learners figure something out, after all, they are supposed to figure it out.  Have you ever seen gifted students struggle?  It is the same struggle that all students go through and yet we tend to gloss over it because we have more confidence in them as learners because of their label.  And yet, once we have labeled someone as gifted we don’t reevaluate that label.  Sure, Suzy may be gifted in math but does that mean she is gifted in everything else, not just subjects, but life?  No, it means she is really good at math.

So if someone is “average” we assume they are always “average” except for those few moments where they shine.  This is a debilitating view of your classroom and something I wish to combat next year.  Truth is, all of our students are low, average, and high learners.  The categories and labels change depending on the topic, the subject, the style of learning, the assignment, the day, the weather – so many factors change it.  If we are too set in our ways as educators, we will fail to notice how these labels are suffocating our students, if we do not make the labels or groupings flexible.

So promise yourself to not label your students, or at least label them for that task at that moment and then go back and revisit that label for the next task.  It may seem like a lot of work but your learning experience as a classroom will be much improved.  And you may even raise the confidence level of a couple of students in the process.