Pernille Ripp

Teaching 120+ students comes with its own challenges, one of them being, paperwork. After all, how do you keep track of who is doing what, which child is participating, what they are reading, and all of those others things I would like to know so that I can have deep reading conversations with them? While some prefer electronic methods of keeping track, I must admit I am more of paper and pencil kind of teacher (weird, I know). When I have tried taking notes on a computer or my phone, I have seen it as a barrier between me and the child. But a clipboard and a pencil, no big deal. So what have I been using in the classroom?

A binder for every class. I have a 2″ binder for every class I teach where each child has their own section. I printed out their pictures, added old test information, and then tried to memorize their names (not so much their test scores right now).

My “What have I noticed form” – a sheet with this title on it sits in every child’s tab. When I pop around the classroom, I take notes on address labels that can easily be placed on the child’s page after class. My clipboard and I come to the kids, who are getting used to me popping next to them to ask them what they are working on.

A quick participation/focus/deep thoughts sheet. I noticed that I was writing a lot of the same things down about certain kids after every class and immediately knew that I needed a checklist. Thus this form was created, a quick check off sheet that again sits in every kid’s file and I flip through it after most classes.

Our yearly goal sheet. I keep these as well but students fill out reading goals every month and then reflect on whether they met them or not at the end. They also write down their goals in their notebooks so that they remember them. To see them, click here.

Reading reflections. We are working on taking ownership over our own reading journey so reflection is huge. These are filled out and a copy is sent home in case parents wants to see their thoughts. I encourage students to reflect honestly because otherwise they cannot grow. Here is our “Halfway through the quarter” reflection.

In 5th grade, my forms looked a lot different. They were meant for small groups and lengthier one-on-ones, I am still hoping to modify them for 7th grade. To see all of my 5th grade forms, click here

I am a passionate teacher in Wisconsin, USA, who has taught 4, 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. First book “Passionate Learners – Giving Our Classrooms Back to Our Students” can be purchased now from Powerful Learning Press. Second book“Empowered Schools, Empowered Students – Creating Connected and Invested Learners” is out now from Corwin Press. Follow me on Twitter @PernilleRipp.

being a teacher, being me, reflection

Yes, I See You

October 8, 2014 Pernille Ripp

Dear Mrs. Ripp,

Today in FACE we were given a assignment that says we have to tell an adult in OMS that we are grateful for them and why. I want you to know that we were free to choose which adult we wanted to do. Out of choice I picked you. I also want you to know that I’m not just saying this because its an assignment, that’s half the reason. The other reason is that it is true what I’m about to say everything I say is true. So here it is…. Mrs. Ripp I am grateful that you are my teacher, because everyday when I come into class you look so happy to see ME. No teacher I have ever had does this to me. Also everyday in class you are extremely kind to me (like every teacher should be) but when you do these things it makes each day better for me, and I hope for you too! In other words thank you for being such an amazing teacher!

And my heart stopped.

And then the tears came.

And then I called my husband to read it to him.

You look so happy to see ME

And I am. Every day, I smile. Every day I laugh. Every day I get pushed harder than I have even been pushed before, not just by the kids who deserve so much, but by my own perfectionism that can be punishing indeed. But I see them, and I call them by name. I remember their troubles, I remember their lives. I ask those questions that we sometimes forget to ask even though we know they matter so much. I stop, listen, much like the people I work with do. And together, every day, we try to see these kids, not just teach them. And yet, whether this is my home has hung above me like a ghost.

You see, I have doubted myself so much. I have doubted whether I deserved to be in the job that I have now. Whether my words mean anything to these 7th graders. Whether my passion would shine through, whether I could do it. Even on the good days, and there have been many, that voice has torn away at me; do you deserve to be here? Is this what you are meant to do? Are you good enough?

You see 7th graders are tough. You think you have them figured out and a new kid shows up the next day, sometimes the next hour, and you had it all wrong. They want you in so many roles that you often forget what you started out doing, just so you can help that one child in front of you at that very moment. Who cares about what should have been done when this is more important?

So this note. On a random Wednesday, from a child that I already knew I was lucky to teach, this note changed everything. This note made it click, and for the first time I said those words aloud that have been sneaking into my mind these past few weeks. Maybe I was meant to be a 7th grade teacher. Maybe 4th and 5th were just the courage builders, the years I needed to find my feet.

Because I see them. And they see me. Every single day. And every day I hope that they see how I smile, not because I have to, but because I can. Because teaching these kids is what I was apparently meant to do. I guess I just hadn’t realized it yet.

being a teacher, Reading, students

What Stands in the Way to Reading – Lessons From My Students

October 7, 2014 Pernille Ripp

I used to think that reading could only be done in silence. That we had to be alone with our thoughts, that our eyes must be on the text at all times so that we could stay immersed. I used to think that reading meant post-its, partner conversations, and frequent check-ins with a teacher, of course. That it was something easy to do as long as books were there, after all, anyone will want to read as long as there is choice. I used to think a lot of things but now my 7th graders have taught me a thing or two.

Now I know that reading is sometimes better while listening to music. That post-its can interfere. That partner conversations are mostly stilted unless you trust the person.

Now I know that frequent check-ins are not always necessary and that a quick hallway conversation or walk-by can also be powerful. That what works for me may not work for others. That sometimes our eyes need a break and that doesn’t mean we are not reading, but that we simply need a moment to ponder, or let our minds wander.

I used to think that reading meant constantly thinking about what you read. That it meant sharing more books. To keep their piles full and their brains always spinning with what’s next, what’s next, what’s next. Now I know that sometimes we read to be immersed, sometimes we read to discuss, sometimes we read because we have nothing better to do and that is ok too.

I used to think that books would cure all but now I see the mountain I have yet to conquer. Yes, incredibly books are a weapon in the fight for reading, but it cannot be the only one. Passion, discussion, choice, and time are equals in this fight. And so is guidance, abandonment, and time to think. Bean bags, carpet squares, and even dimming the lights enter too. We never know what it is that will turn a child from a non-reader to a reader, and yet there are so many things we exclude because we think we know best.

I may not have convinced them all just yet that reading is powerful, that reading is magical. But I have hope, because they are still with me on this journey. They still give me their attention, and they still ask for books. We may think that we lose a reader but they are never quite lost. It is up to us (and them) whether they find their way back or not. For now, i will keep giving them everything I’ve got. After all, this is definitely worth it.

being a teacher, being me, reflection

The Downside to Being a Connected Educator

October 5, 2014December 29, 2014 Pernille Ripp

I have written a lot about all that being a connected educator has done for me. I have written a lot about how I would not trade it for anything and that I hope others will choose to become connected as well. I have written about how being a connected educator has enabled me to have connected students, which has radically changed the way I teach. And yet, I have not talked about the downfall of being connected much. Not like this, not in this way.

Yet, I think in honor of Connected Educator month, (which is a strange month anyway because aren’t we always connected?), I think it is time to discuss the downfalls. Those things that I deal with from being a connected educator, because after all, if I am going to encourage others to be connected, I think I need to be honest about all that it entails.

You are no longer private. Of course, you can edit what you put out into the world, but the truth is the moment you open up your classroom and your thoughts to the world, people will have an opinion on it. And sometimes that opinion hurts. Other times it is completely false. I carefully pick the words I put out there but at the same time, my skin has grown thicker, and yet, because I choose to put it out into the world it seems to carry so much more weight in my life simply because others know what I do.
You can get a big head. It is easy to think that you are more important than you are because of the validation that comes along with being connected. We are awfully good at praising one another, which is wonderful, but at the same time it can also lead to a false sense of accomplishment. “I must be doing something amazing because all of these people tell me I am.” What we forget is that we choose what we put out there, not many share their utmost failures or embarrassing mistakes, thus we look incredible online. That can only grow as more people get connected with us; our ego ticks upward right along with our follower count.
You can get really jealous. Michelle Baldwin wrote a blog post discussing the identity of teaching and wrote that a problem she had faced was that the more she did, the more she needed to do to feel the same way. Part of being a connected educator means that you are not just comparing yourself to your local colleagues, but to everyone out there. So if someone is writing a book, I feel I should write one too, if someone is keynoting a conference, I wonder why I am not. It becomes this viscous circle of wanting to do more to get more, which is hard to break.
You feel you need to be perfect. I choose to put a lot of my flaws out there because others need to know I am not a perfect teacher, nor do I think I am. And yet, every time I publish a post discussing my mistakes or screw ups, I cannot help but cringe a bit. Am I really putting this out there publicly? What if it reaches some person that will hold it against me? And yet, I am not perfect, none of us are, but stating that publicly is terrifying.
You lose time from other things. Yes, I choose to be connected but I am well aware of how my habits have changed. I Vox when I am driving in the car rather than listen to an audio book or podcast. I check Twitter while my husband is driving rather than speak to him. I read blog posts rather than books. And then there is the feeling of constantly needing to produce. Although I try to not pay much attention to what my site statistics are, I still wonder if they are dipping or if they are stagnant. Being connected can sometimes feel like a job, and not in a good way.
You are perceived a certain way. I remember when a close friend asked me where I was going with all of this writing about no homework, no rewards, no grades, and I looked at her confused. Sure, I had written about those things (and continue to) but I didn’t feel like that was all I did. Yet, the perception of me was starting to take shape and it was feeding itself. I think this can be both a positive thing and a negative one, after all, we can somewhat control that perception, but from my own experience it is hard to change it once it is out there, and you can feel boxed in.
You may forget about your local PLN. When I first became connected I couldn’t believe the online discussions, collaborations, and profound idea sharing I was having with educators all over the world. Yet upon closer inspection I realized I wasn’t having those same moments with the people I worked with in my school. Being connected to a global PLN had taken the place of the local connections because somehow the exoticism of the global collaboration seemed like it would be more beneficial, yet this is not ture. Being connected does not just mean that you are connected globally, it also means that you nurture your local connections and include those people in your PLN. Sure, I have had incredible moments online with people I have never met, but I have also had that face-to-face with people I get to work with. Don’t dismiss the local just because it doesn’t seem as exciting.
You think there is a right way. I used to think that all teachers should be on Twitter, that they should blog, that they should engage in a certain way with others because that is what was working for me. But that’s exactly it; they worked for me. Being a connected educator does not mean doing certain things or using certain tools, it means being connected, joining together with others. Whichever way you are doing it, is probably the right way for you.
You may become a target. I was told once that I had a bulls-eye on my back because I chose to be connected. When I wrote about being bullied by a former colleague, I cannot tell you how many people reached out to me privately to share their stories. The biggest thing we had in common was the fact that we were connected educators putting our work into the world. That does not make it automatic that people who choose to connect will be targets within their districts but it sure does offer up ammunition if needed.

Don’t take this post the wrong way, I love being a connected educator, but I am not a fool when it comes to the downfall of it all. I struggle with many of these things regularly and yet every time I run into something negative, I consciously reaffirm my decision to be connected. The positive outcomes will always outweigh the negative, but let’s not fool ourselves that being connected is always a magical thing. It can be, but it can also be hurtful, brutal, and time consuming. And yet, I wouldn’t go back to how I used to be; the benefits have simply been too great.

PS: To see great reasons for why you should become connected, check out Angela Watson’s post

Be the change, reflection, Student-centered, writing

But We Hate to Write

October 2, 2014 Pernille Ripp

“It’s just…”His eyes dart away and he stops talking.

I sit there quietly, waiting for him to finish his sentence. I can tell he is down, I can tell he is unsure.

“It’s just…” he begins again after a long pause, “It’s just that I really hate writing, I’m sorry.” And he gives me that look that only a child can give you, that “please don’t hate me” look that cuts straight through me.

A million thoughts fly through my head, mostly surprise. I would never have guessed, not this kid, not him, he is too good of a student. And yet, he waits, so I ask the only thing I can think of, “Well, when did that start?”

I don’t think I hated writing as a child. It was something I did gladly, often delving into long stories filled with tragedy and drama as I worked through my own quiet life. I remember all of the essays I had to write and how I had to wait until I was inspired or the deadline had passed and a teacher was asking me to hand it in before I wrote. But hated it? Nah, more inconvenienced than anything else.

But this child, with his courageous statement, is not alone. More and more often I hear it from my students; “We hate writing.. We hate being told what to write. We hate having to come up with something when we are not inspired.” And I know I cannot be alone .

So what do we do as the teachers of the future writers? How do we bring back the passion into our writing curriculum, much like we aim for in our reading? How do we show these kids that writing is not a chore, not something simply to get through to get to the next thing, but the way for them to have a voice. The way for them to make a difference from where they are right now?

We start with blogging. By providing them with a platform for putting their voice into the world where they can see their words are being read, and their words carry weight. Where others can comment and start a conversation. We then add choice, authentic purpose, and declare our own passion for writing. We show how writing makes a difference to us in our lives. How writing matters and should be held sacred, much like we hold our reading sacred.

But then what? Where do we go from there? How do we convince our students that writing does actually matter? That being a good writer is actually something worth their time and not just something they have to do because their teacher told them to. Or something forced to fit into an already pre-determined box of thought. How do we help them un-hate writing again or is it too late?

being a teacher, Student

We Teach These Kids

October 1, 2014December 29, 2014 Pernille Ripp

I see her crying, tears rolling down her cheeks as she tries to get through the assignment.

My heart sinks, I don’t have time, we have so much to cover, and yet I know what I need to do.

Outside the door we go, heart to heart, tears dry up, and back in to face the rest of the class, who miraculously are still working. Perhaps our routines are starting to sink in? Perhaps we are getting there, wherever there may be. So we jump back in, back to teaching, and the day moves forward. Just another moment in my day as a new 7th grade teacher.

I knew teaching 7th grade would be a whole new world. That what I thought I knew about kids would be challenged, twisted, and turned on its head. I thought I knew how to teach reading, I thought I knew how to teach writing. And I do, but that’s not all I teach, and in 7th grade, it has never been more apparent to me.

We teach these kids that yes, we expect them to be resilient, independent, and organized, but that we are still here to pick up the strays when the locker overflows and the planner is lost.

We teach these kids that we would rather hear the truth than another excuse and that their words are worth standing behind.

We teach these kids that being different can be hard, that being independent can make you a target, but that does not mean you should ever back down from what you are or what you believe in.

We teach them that it is okay to laugh at ourselves. That it is okay to try to find the humor in any situation and that does not mean we don’t take it seriously.

We teach these kids that not even adults have all the answers, we are still searching for some too.

We teach these kids that adults will listen and take them seriously. That we remember what it is to be young and feel like the whole world is coming down.

We teach these kids that they don’t have to say “It’s ok” when we tell them that we are sorry their parent passed away. Or that they can’t tell us about the truth on why their work isn’t done.

I teach these kids and they teach me. I cannot thank them enough.