being a teacher, homework, students

I Know Worksheets are Bad and Yet I Assigned One

There they lie; staring at me with their guilty weight of uselessness, reminding me how I made another mistake.  I thought I had them beat, that I had conquered the urge to assign them, and yet I slipped and now that pile of 32 math worksheets reminds me of why I gave up on them in the first place. I don’t know why I thought they would be a good idea, why I found them necessary that morning, but I did and now I have to come to term with what that means for me and for my students.  I know my good intentions of practice is hidden in there somewhere but I forgot to listen to my common sense, to look at my past mistakes, to think of the students.

We reach for worksheets when we want to make sure that students get something, when we want to have them practice, to secure a skill.  And yet who assigns worksheets with just a few problems?  After all, you want a lot of problems to make sure they really get it, that they will never forget.  So why didn’t I just assign them 5 problems to show me they knew, why the need for a double-sided sheet with 32 problems on it?  The time I must have robbed from my students outside life haunts me.

So I take my pride and put it aside and I realize I made a mistake.  Tomorrow I am going to have to tell the kids that, own it, and apologize.  It shows that i am still learning, that I make bad decisions too, I am nowhere near perfect as a teacher.  And I learn, I learn from my mistakes, from my good intentions gone bad.  I learn from the feedback of the students and I admit when I mess up.  That’s what makes us better teachers.  That’s what builds better classrooms.  Humility, humanity, and reflection.

being a teacher, self, students

What’s so Bad about "Smart?"

I once had a student tell me they were not smart.  They would never get good grades, that they would never be a success. This 4th grader, already beaten down by the school system and themselves, thought they would never be successful.  That school was for kids that got it, for kids that already understood, for kids that were born smart.  Smart was not something you became, it was something you already were, and it was completely outside of their reach.

How many of these kids walk our hallways?  Those kids that no one ever told they were smart?  Those students that come into our classrooms thinking that they are not smart, have never been, and will never be.  Beaten down by lack of success in an overly rigid school system, having few academic successes and little curiosity left.  Those students need to hear the word “smart.”

Research tells us that we shouldn’t use the word “smart,” that students instead should be heralded for their work ethic, their creative problem-solving skills and their perseverance.  The evidence shows (simply stated) that if you tell a child repeatedly that they are smart they will take the easy way out, give up more easily and not like challenges. But those students that already have given up?  Those students need to hear it over and over when they do have successes so that they can start believing it.  So for those I make an exception.

I tell them they are smart when they conquer a math problem, when they raise their hand timidly at first but then more and more confidently.  I tell them that they can do it, that they too know things when they grow, when they share.  So that they can believe that they are worth something, that they are capable, that they are smart.  And I don’t regret it, no matter what the research says, because later on we can work on the creative problem-solving skills and never giving up, but for now; they need to believe they are smart.

grades, students

Students Define Letter Grades

My students took some time today to discuss what the different letter grades mean to them in preparation for their determination of their own grades.  I was absolutely captivated by what they thought and to me it once again speaks clearly as to why letter grades are not the solution to reporting progress.  (Note: F’s are not attainable in my class since I have yet to meet a kid that isn’t learning something).

So an “A” means:

  • A students understands completely
  • Participates in the discussion
  • Is enthusiastic about school
  • Always gives best effort
  • Shows lots of progress
  • Understands almost everything
  • And has a great attitude 

A “B” means:

  • Understands concepts most of the time
  • Fulfills most of the things to get an A but not all
  • Has good effort but could do more
  • Shows a little bit of progress
  • Understands a lot and gives a great effort
  • And has a good attitude

A “C” means:

  • Pays little attention
  • Could try better
  • Developing as a learner
  • You are not trying your hardest
  • Could use some improvement
  • Average attitude

A “D” means:

  • Does not understand content
  • Do not show their knowledge and strengths
  • Needs to listen more to better understand
  • Only understands a little
  • Is not focused
  • Needs a lot of help
  • And works poorly by themselves

What a stigma change between “B” and “C!”  This definitely is providing me with food for thought.


Awards, being a teacher, students

Awards for All Means Students Still Lose – No Matter How Well Meaning They Are

I recently read Matt Ray’s post titled “Awards for All” (and I encourage you to read it as well) and although I know that his intent is pure, after all, he loves those children like no one else, I question the idea of providing an award for all.  Awards can be a sticky mess for me.  I know I don’t want them to be a part of my classroom, particularly from an academic standpoint, but I am also starting to believe that really we shouldn’t be concocting “fake” ones either   However, I got the impression that Matt created these rewards because otherwise his students may never actually receive any form of reward. So then that makes it ok, right?

This society with its emphasis on making someone the best means someone is always the loser.  This competition for adoration starts young, when students are subjected to enforced spelling bees and honor rolls in elementary school.  It is not that I am opposed to celebrating students, I just don’t understand the need to always give them something.  To hand them a diploma stating that they are indeed number 1 at whatever we decide.  While personality awards like the ones Matt discussed may seem harmless, I wonder, how does the child feel that really wanted to most improved in math and didn’t get it?  Or the child that has been working hard to be kind toward all but is not recognized for it?  We are also making losers out of them.

Awards are a slippery slope and while we as teachers think that it boosts students self-esteem, how often does it hurt it?  How often does the innocent title that we give a child in order to raise their self-esteem end up boxing them in instead?  When we choose to focus on one trait of a child’s personality, no matter how kind our intentions were, we in essence tell the child that this is the one thing I have noticed and all of these other things, you did not quite excel enough in.  Why the need for recognition?  Can we not through our own words and actions give these children enough recognition without having to do it in awards form?  Is this society so entrenched in awards and making losers out of someone that we have to make up awards just to reach all children?  If that is the case, then I guess I am not doing my part.

help, students

For the Kids Who Struggle with Division

I need help; Some of my students struggle so with division. They get that division means to divide into equal parts, they get the concept, and we practice, practice, and practice long division until our eyes are weary. And yet,I can see their despair, they do not understand why we are doing the steps we do. So I need a different approach before we move on and put them further behind.

What can I do to make them see the light? I have them explain it to each other but even doing that doesn’t seem to change their understanding. We practice but that is not enough either. There are many smarter people out there, please lend me your ideas.

being a teacher, discipline, discussion, students

But Wait, You Didn’t Tell Me I Wasn’t A Disappointment

Today I was embarrassed, so utterly left without words and ashamed that I didn’t know what to say.  A child did this to me and I deserved every moment of it.  That child and I had had an interaction more than 3 weeks ago where I had scolded him for improper video camera usage.  The task had been simple; film a short film telling me everything you know about a topic.  This child had decided to goof off and create bloppers and then forgotten to delete the evidence.  In my best teacher voice, I had reprimanded him and told him how very disaapointed in him I was.  I had then left it at that and dismissed him thinking nothing more of it.

Today, as he walked down the hallway, I stopped him to ask him about a rumor I had heard and whether it was true.  When he affirmed its validity I couldn’t help but tell him I was surprised he had been involved, that it seemed out of his nature to make such choices.  He looked me straight in the eye and said, “Well, Mrs. Ripp, I thought you didn’t care because you were disappointed in me.”  Confused, I asked him what he meant.  “You told me you were disappointed in me back in social studies…” 

And then it all clicked; this child had never been told that I was no longer disappointed.  This child, whom I care for deeply, had never been let off the hook but instead I had left him dangling, wondering where our relationship stood.  I stammered out a hurried reply about not being disappointed any longer and then walked away ashamed.  How could I have left him to think that for so many weeks?  How many times have I done this before?  How many other kids assume that I view them unfavorably because of how they have been spoken to?

So as I sit here defeated, I vow to change, to speak to these kids and then follow up.  When we use such heavy sentences as “I am disappointed in you” do we ever come back to tell them that we no longer feel that way?  Do we repair the void we create with our words or do we just let it grow?  As for this kid, I wrote him a note saying I was sorry.  What will you do if this happens to you?