Pernille Ripp

aha moment, being a teacher, Passion, students

The Problem With Taking Notes on Students

March 19, 2015 Pernille Ripp

I remember the binder at the end of the year; probably weighing 10 pounds, spilling out with papers, tabs missing, scribbles everywhere. I was ready. I had the proof; proof of every single reading conversation that I had had with every student. Every goal we had set, every challenge we had overcome. The proof was in the binder and that binder was amazing.

Then I moved to 7th grade and I made 5 binders. Tabbed for each student. Ready with my goal sheets, my conferring template and my ever trusty clipboard. No longer did I need to take notes on all subjects, just two, and boy did that seem daunting, but I figured I needed to gather as many notes as possible because that is what good teachers do. Those first few weeks as I got to meet my students I used it every day. Called them up, flipped to the page, asked them the questions, wrote down, had them wait while I was still writing, finished up, wrote some more, called the next one up. In 10 minutes of independent reading time, I got through 2 students, at the most. With 116 students total, I didn’t know how I would ever keep up. How would I have all of the proof that I needed to show what I was doing every day with my students? How would I find time to take all of those notes? How would I be a good teacher.

Now I think I know the answer; I couldn’t. And I don’t have to. The thing is, you don’t need to take notes every single time you meet with a child. You do not need to document every conference, every small conversation. You don’t have to walk around with a binder or with a clipboard noticing every little thing and documenting it for all eternity. What you need to do instead is notice the big things. Find proof for the things that you would want to assess or share with someone else. Check in where a child is on their journey once a week and allow yourself to know that that is enough in most cases. Have enough to fill one sheet with really great observations and find your peace within that.

During a conference with a child, put the pen down and focus on what they are telling you. Look them in the eye and listen. Jot a line down when they are done if you want but don’t beat yourself up if you don’t. Allow yourself time once a week during independent reading or whenever you can and write down notes on all of the students. What have you noticed this week? Where are they at now? What is next for them? Then ask the students to reflect as well, give them a goal sheet to fill out and do it as a class. Ask them three simple questions: How are you better at whatever this week? How do you now? And what will you work on next?

I used to think that I needed proof of every single thing. That in case someone stopped by to ask what I did as a teacher I had to be ready. Now I know that it is not the quantity of information that matter but the quality. So join me in resisting the urge to document every single thing. Focus on the big things, the necessary, and look at the kids instead.

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.

aha moment, being a teacher, Passion, student voice

Another Failed Lesson Thanks to My Students And Me

March 12, 2015 Pernille Ripp

It was meant to be easy. It was meant to be epic. It was meant to show off what I thought I already knew; how my students had mastered everything there was to know about theme, evidence, and how to do a great presentation. Yet, a few presentations in on Tuesday, it was pretty clear that this was not epic but instead a massively big failure. And I got upset. After all, these kids have had 2 months to work on this as they have been in book clubs for that long. All I had asked them to do was choose their book, discuss and read at their pace, and in the end create a book talk in whichever format they chose. I gave them plenty of time and plenty of choice. What could be so hard about that?

While some rose to the occasion, most did not. Yet instead of assuming that I knew why this had turned so awful, I asked them what happened. A few in each class bravely raised their hands even though they knew I was upset…

“We weren’t sure what you exactly wanted…”

“We felt overwhelmed by how long we had to do it…”

“Our group didn’t work so well together so we got distracted…”

“We didn’t put in much effort…”

“We didn’t think you would get so upset…”

“We had other things to do…”

And they waited for my reaction, expecting me to get madder. Yet as I looked at my students, I couldn’t help but just be a little bit proud of their answers. Sure I was upset over all of the wasted time, how they hadn’t stepped up to my expectations. Yet here they were, class upon class, with the guts to tell me that they didn’t think it was important. That they didn’t think I would care as much as I did. That they pretty much dropped the ball and now had to face the consequences. And I realized in that moment, that this lesson wasn’t about theme, opinions, or even how to be a great speaker. It was about guts and failure; having the guts to embrace their failure, discuss it, and actually learn from it.

How often do our students actually tell us the truth when it comes to their own mistakes? I know we talk about modeling and embracing our failure, but do our students actually pick up on it and do it as well? Not often enough.

The next day, we watched Diana Laufenberg’s amazing TED talk on learning from failure. Not what I had planned but it was what we needed. My students loved her message; yes to learning from failure, yes to allowing students to fail, in fact, they got pretty passionate about it, started to argue why school doesn’t let them just fail so they can figure it out. I chuckled a bit and then reminded them; many had failed the day before. Here was their chance to show me everything they knew. To not let one presentation define them. Silence. Then it clicked. Not for all, but for many.

While I had huge dreams of of the great content that students would have shown me on Tuesday, I am now thankful they didn’t. They needed the freedom to fly and to fall. They needed the freedom to to not care, to push off, to procrastinate. Because I can preach about failure, I can preach about personal responsibility. I can even preach about letting them try and picking themselves up when they fall. Or they can experience it. We say we want kids to be afraid of failing and yet still try, yet how often do we have opportunities for just that? My students taught me again. It is because of them I want to keep trying to be a better teacher and that includes having lessons fail in the most epic way.

being a teacher, Passion, Personalized Learning, student choice

What Personalized Learning Is Not

March 11, 2015March 10, 2015 Pernille Ripp

I seem to have become an advocate for personalized learning, it wasn’t intentional, nor do I think I am good one for the cause. I believe in creating passionate learning environments where all students have a voice. So the more discussions I have the more I understand where the hesitance to personalized learning, or any seemingly new initiative that crops up, is stemming from. Because much like any great educational idea, this idea of personalized learning seems to have become twisted into something it is not.

I believe in personalizing learning for every child. That doesn’t mean a system, a plan that can be found in a book, or even mapped out for the world to replicate. They don’t teach the kids I teach so they have no way of knowing what they need. That is my job as a teacher to figure out by asking the students.

Personalized learning does not mean to let go, give up control of everything, and hope for the best. It doesn’t mean that every kid has to make something, invent something, or be creative for every assignment. It doesn’t mean we have to integrate more technology so that we can reach every kid. It doesn’t mean that teachers should just facilitate or guide and otherwise get out of the way. There will never be just one role for all of us to fit all of the time. Because personalized learning means to personalize which means to teach the kids we have right here, right now.

Those kids we have may want to invent.

Those kids we have may want to create.

Those kids we have may want no structure, to be able to show mastery whichever way they choose, as they tinker, play, and dream.

Those kids we have may want to integrate their own device whenever they can to show off their own genius.

Yet those kid we have may also need support.

Those kids we have may also need guidelines.

Those kids we have may also need a piece of paper with an assignment explained and a path to get from point A to point B.

Those kids we have may also need structure, an end goal that is shared with others, and a teacher that leads the way.

Personalized learning seems to have become confused with yet another rigid system where we assume that all kids want to make. And that is a shame because the minute we assume that ALL kids want anything then we are doing the opposite of what personalizing learning is. So don’t believe all of the guidelines, don’t believe that there is just one path to do it right for it means to reach all kids, to find a way to teach all kids, giving them what they need and being in tune with them when that need changes,

As a child, I would have hated being told to create on my own at all times and to somehow figure it all out. That was not what I needed then, nor is it what I want as an adult. Make sure in our quest to reach all kids that we don’t think there is only way to reach them. Make it about teaching them all, reaching all, and realizing that there is not one system for doing that because we do not just teach one child. Don’t buy the latest idea just because someone sai dthat this is finally the right way to teach, even if it sounds magical.

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?