Pernille Ripp

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.

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.

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?

assumptions, being me, control, punishment

When a Child Gets Angry – We Punish

March 8, 2015 Pernille Ripp

It has been two days since a black unarmed teenager was shot and killed by a police officer here in Madison. 15 minutes from my house. He went to the high school across my street. For the past two days, we have checked the news, watched the protests unfold, and searched for answers much like the rest of the country. This is not a post on what happened, because I do not know. But in the past two days I have been inherently aware that we live in a country that solves its problems with force. That we keep ending up in situations where unarmed children are being killed because that is the resort we go to. As the teen’s grandmother shouted to the police, “Why not just tase him?”

We see it in our schools as well; the escalation of punishment and force when a child, according to us, gets angrier. When a child loses control and reacts in a negative way, we take away the rest of their control to show them that we mean business. They lose all power over their day and then we wonder why they get angrier rather than just give in. When a child comes to us angry, we assume more will follow and we prepare plans for what to do when that anger comes, not plans for how to keep it at bay. We live in a society that punishes rather than investigates.

I have had the angry children in my classroom. I have had the kids with the file, with the police records. With the outbursts that scared me. I have had the child who threw a table across the room when another child called him a name. I have had the child where parents didn’t want their child in the same room, afraid of what would happen. I get it; fear is a powerful emotion, and when it comes to being fearful for our own safety or that of others, it becomes critical that we react.

Yet it is within our reaction that we must pause. If a child is angry or violent, we must ask why? We must dig for answers until something is uncovered. Yes, start the plans, but start the investigation at the same time. Relationship and trust has to be our first line of defense, not excessive force. Not assuming that the worst will happen, thus waiting for it to happen, and then not being surprised when it does. If we look at an angry child and expect anger, we will find it. If we look at a child that may become out of control, they will. Our mindset is what has to change, even if it means pausing before reacting. We have to stop our line of escalating punishments if they are not solving the problem.

So with all of my angry students, I had the showdowns. I didn’t always call for the principal, and perhaps I should have, but instead I stood my ground and asked questions; why are you doing this? Why is this your reaction? How can I help? I even cracked a joke or two. And it wasn’t a miracle, these children did not change overnight, they still got angry, they still threw chairs, but at least sometimes I knew why and I could work on that. Yes, there were consequences, but they were ones that made sense; speaking to the counselor or the psychologist, working through it with me, parents getting involved, teams put in place. Not suspension, not detention, not always.

For the past 5 years I have tried to give power back to my students. I have asked them what they need in our classrooms to learn. I have listened and tried to provide a classroom that they felt in control over, where there was room for them, where they didn’t have to escalate to get what they needed. I have moved away from my own instant judgment and punishment as much as possible. It has been hard. My gut reaction has often been to punish, yet I knew that long-term it would not help the child but only grow the problem. I am not alone, other educators have been doing this for years, so how do we do it as a nation? How do we move away from more and more force being used, from creating more angry children who end up becoming angry adults? What can we change? And what can we change right now?

PS: I don’t know what prompted the officer to shoot Tony, I don’t know if there was anger. The post is simply the train of thoughts that were prompted based on what my community is going through.