aha moment, assumptions, being a teacher, believe, community, homework, hopes, role model, students

They are Someone’s Child – Tania’s Aha Moment

Pernille Ripp

This last aha moment is shared to me by the prolific can-doer Tania Ash, whose newly minted blog I have a feeling will be a must read and who is also a must follow on Twitter at @tcash. Tania was a person who reached out early to me in my Twitter experience because that is just how she works. Always looking to welcome new teachers into the experience, always there to support, and as one of the founders of the wonderful #elemchat held on Thursday nights she has been a fantastic resource in my PLN. As a 5th grade teacher in Morocco, she is never afraid to connect with others both herself and with her students. This aha moment speaks deeply to me as I have gone through this same transformation. Thank you Tania for sharing it with the rest of us and also for rounding out our aha moment guest series with such a heartfelt piece.

When I was asked to write about my a-ha moment, I must admit that I had mixed feelings. Coming from an educator I respect and admire so much, a prolific writer whose blog represents not only a wealth of ideas, but also thought-provoking, deep reflection; after the initial excitement, my first fear was that of falling short. My second, was to find the perfect a-ha moment among myriad possibilities.

There have been so many a-ha moments along the way. How to choose a single one? My life, my choices, haven’t exactly followed the most typical itinerary.

There could be the moment when, after dropping out of school in grade 13 and following a boy to another continent, I decided I wanted to work in an elementary school and became an assistant in a 2nd grade classroom.

Or the moment, 3 years later, when I decided that I wanted to go back to school and become a teacher. It could be any number of moments with some of the inspiring educators I had the honour to work with, from the 2nd grade teacher who opened the door to the world of teaching (and continues, to this day, to be both my mentor and best friend), to the 3rd and 5th grade teachers who opened up their classrooms, filing cabinets and plan books when they kindly agreed to act as my cooperating teachers during my student teaching… those were unforgettable moments that shaped the teacher I was to become.

It could be the moment when, after serving as the technology coordinator in my school, I realized that I longed for my own class where I could be a pedagogue and plan learning experiences from start to finish, and not just content myself with being the “tech” of someone else’ project.

That said, one of the moments that most profoundly impacted my teaching came from the most unexpected sources. Well, it was unexpected to me at least. It wasn’t in any textbook in the teacher-training program, it wasn’t in any student-teacher internship programs, nor part of any of the countless workshops and conferences I’ve attended over the years. It was a transformation that started small, and then began to grow. It isn’t a particular moment per se, but a collection of moments that started the day my son was born. The day I became a parent and got my first glimpse at the other side of the fence was the day I began to be a better teacher.

At first, it was just the realization of how powerful parenthood is…
As an educator, I’d always loved and valued children, but as a mother, I found out what that really meant. For the first year after my son was born, I found I couldn’t watch any news or read any newspapers. Every time there was a story about a suffering child, it touched me as if those children, in faraway lands, were *mine*. Today, when I meet my 5th grade students and their families in the first days of the school year, I can immediately visualize those nights when those parents tiptoed into their child’s bedroom at night, just to make sure s/he was still breathing, or imagine the trepidation they felt the first time they left their treasure in someone else’ care. Today, when I greet a new student at the door, it is the whole family that I welcome, doing my best to reassure them that I will handle their delicate treasure with the utmost care.

After a while, the a-ha feeling grew…
I began to look more closely, and more appreciatively, at the small things in life. Having worked with mostly upper elementary aged students, I used to think that teaching early childhood just wasn’t for me. I know – that’s quite the confession coming from a teacher. Shame! I found I had trouble relating with very young students, that our cadences were, well, off-sync. Kindergarten? I didn’t think I had the patience for the very basic, well, basics. But as I watched my son grow from an infant to a toddler, and the determination with which he learned to crawl, then walk, the elation I saw in his face with each new discovery, I learned just how *big* those small steps are. They say that quality preschool programs are one of the best indicators of future success. Today, as both an educator and a parent, I strongly support that claim – and would gladly teach Kindergarten any day if offered the opportunity.

And then it grew some more…
Another confession that I really must share is this – as a teacher, I used to give plenty of homework. I used to make students record their reading in a reading log, do problem after problem, practice basic facts, research…I even occasionally gave homework on the weekend…academia in overdrive! Today, as a parent, I realize just how precious those weekend minutes for family time really are. I see, now, that fighting with my child to get his reading homework done isn’t going to create a lifelong reader. It is only going to create frustration, anxiety and tension and may indeed backfire. As a teacher, I now strive to be more reflective, more selective in the homework I assign…much less than before… and I never, never assign homework on the weekend.

Every day, another a-ha connection
Whereas I have always felt a little anxious during parent conferences as a teacher, I now have a better sense for what a parent feels at that same moment. As a parent, I look at my son’s teacher across the conference table and see someone who is judging him – whether favourably or not – evaluating his development in the cognitive, physical, and social domains. Does she see the guilt I carry around about all the things I *should* be doing as a parent to help my child grow? Those things that somehow, despite best intentions, get set aside on those days when life gets in the way? This person is helping to shape my child’s future. Does she know everything she needs to know about him? Does she know how anxious he gets when he believes that he may have lost her approval? Today, as before, I start out parent conferences by listening. I listen to parents tell me about their child, and how they perceive their child’s feelings about school. Is Johnny happy to come to school? What kinds of topics does he seem to enjoy most? What works at home? Today, as before, I start out by listening, but it seems like today, when I listen, I can really hear what parents are telling me. As a teacher, I don’t beat around the bush – I am honest with parents about their child’s progress, and always include goals and strategies parents can try at home to help their child grow. I do my best to set the tone right from the start of the school year, to clarify that lines of communication are open. I explain to them that we are partners in the quest to help guide their child towards success, and that, whereas I may not have all the answers, I, we, can work towards effective solutions together.

I have the incredible fortune of having my child attend the school where I work, a school which is, in my opinion, one of the best schools out there. Located on a beautiful green campus, it has intangible qualities that make it a very special place where children are happy and want to learn. It is also a place where, every day, I learn a little something about being a parent, and I learn lots about being a teacher. Being a parent has helped – is helping me – become a better teacher. I switch hats numerous times during the day, look at the other side of the coin, or across the fence. Whatever the metaphor, whenever I move between my role as a parent and my role as a teacher, I make another connection, I have another little a-ha moment.

alfie kohn, grading moratorium, letter to Jeremy, no homework

Remember those Dreams of Summer?

Pernille Ripp

This post is the first in, hopefully, many taking place as a conversation between Jeremy Macdonald @MrMacnology, a 5th grade teacher in Oregon, and Pernille Ripp @4thgrdteacher, 4th grade teacher in Wisconsin; two educators who for the first time are attempting a no grades classroom as well as limited homework.  We work under the confines of our districts but with passion and belief that this is the way forward.

Hello Jeremy,
Remember this summer when we had our dreams in place of how we were going to make this work, this no grades thing, and how we knew that with the right amount of dedication it would be a smashing success?  Well, guess what, the school year started and it is hard!  I still believe in it, don’t get me wrong, this has been a massive educational philosophy switch for me and one that I am incredibly passionate about.  I believe I am doing the right thing by focusing on the learning and not the grade, but who ever knew that removing most worksheets, tests, and averages would making teaching so much more time consuming?  Now when students finish a project I have to find the time to speak to them about it or at the very least write lengthy feedback on their work.  No more checking an answer-key and slapping a subjective percentage on it and calling it a day.  I have to study what they learned, how they divulged it, and more importantly figure out where to go from there.

So maybe that is why many educators do the grade; it is easy.  After all, you don’t have to change how you teach a student if the end result is just an average number based upon a semester’s performance.  You can just hand over the grade, watch the disappointment swell if it wasn’t the one they hoped for and then move on.  Parents are happy because they recognize what the grade means, or think they do anyway, and students know exactly where they fit into in the hierarchy in the class.  End of story.  Yet, when you throw away the grade something enormous happens.  At first, students are a little bit surprised, perhaps even dismayed, and definitely confused.  I don’t know how many times I have had to discuss with students why the feedback I have provided does not translate into a percentage.  Some get it, most don’t at this point in the year.  One student in particular keeps asking me how he can earn a good grade and is perpetually disappointed when I tell him that it is about the learning not the grade.  So what do you say?  Do you tell them that they are doing amazing and some would consider that to be an “A+” performance or do you stick to your line and keep pressing on with learning goals?

And the work!  Papers piling up, goals, checklists, notes from conversations all crowd my desk.  With conferences coming up, I am starting to shake a little in my boots.  Will I have enough evidence to prove the academic rigor I am subjecting my students to? Will students be able to explain what they have been learning or how it affects their future learning?  Will I be able to communicate effectively to doubting parents that although less homework is sent home, their child is still learning just as much?  And don’t get me started on report cards!  How will I translate their knowledge into a grade?

I know this is the right path, but why must it be so hard?  I know change is never easy but this makes so much sense.  So where does one go from here?

Best,
Pernille

being a teacher, personality

Do We Dare to Show Ourselves?

Pernille Ripp

The split personality syndrome; an affliction that most teachers suffer from.  We all have our “other”s sides that the students don’t see; maybe it is the side that has tattoos, that swears occassionally or that lives passionaltely for domething that society has not deemed 100% acceptable.  Whatever it is, we hide it, in order to be proper teachers.  Not because we are told but it is expected of us.  You see, being a teacher is not just a job; it’s a life.

I first remember when it happened to me.  Walking in as a practicum student, realizing the immense importance of my future job, and knowing that not all sides of my sparkling personality would see the light.  Not that there is some dark hidden life that I cannot confess to in the daylight, but rather those things we don’t speak of, those things we do not do in front of others.  At least if those others are fellow educators, parents, or students.  Taking those first steps into the building, shelving away part of my personality, inducted me into something special; the cult of teaching.

Teachers are pristine, angelic creatures that live passionately only for their students.  Society has put us on such a high pedestal that most of us struggle to even reach it, let alone remain on it.  We are not just role models for the students when it comes to being passionate learners, but also when it comes to how we live our life.  So we don’t swear (ever!), we certainly do not drink alcohol, smoke, have tattoos, go-go dance, or whatever it is that we do as part of our other life.  We keep it secret, speaking only of noble adventures and how they strengthen our pursuit to be the very best teacher we can be.

I know of very few other profession that puts such high moral demands on its participants and yet we are supposed to willingly accept it because we were the the ones that chose to be teachers.  No longer allowed to be fully human, we instead become caricatures of ourselves, always smiling, always perfect, never gritty or tarnished.  And of course, I agree that we shouldn’t swear, or drink alcohol or any of those things in front of our students, but we are allowed as adults to go out and have a drink and a dance on Saturday night without looking over our shoulder and worrying about who sees us.  And while I relish the fact that I am role model and take it very seriously, I have also found that students respond to us better when we let them in a little; show them a little of our true personality, warts and all. 

So I wonder when teachers will have their fall from grace?  When will society realize that the expectations to us as human beings are so ridiculously distorted that no one will want to even try to be that perfect.  Is this something we must just accept or is there a way to turn it around?  How do we continue on as educators but perhaps show ourselves as fully human?  How do we escape the cult of teaching, the personality we are expected to have, or do we not want to? 

being a teacher, change, communication, control, students

What Do you Mean I am Not the Center of Attention?

Pernille Ripp
This year I stepped out of the limelight.  Hard, cruel, and totally uncomfortable but I am learning to just be quiet.  And not so that I freak my students out with long stern stares or raised eyebrows, although that does happen on occasion.  But so that students can talk, learn, and explore.

You see when a teacher talks a lot, and teachers usually love to talk, students turn into drones.  We know all of the material already so we are so eager to tell the kids all about it.  Some call it excitement over curriculum, I just call it teacher mouth.  We talk to get them ready to them learn, we talk about the learning they are doing, and then we talk about what they have just learned.  Have we ever thought that maybe us being quiet would let them learn better, more, faster?

So I decided that this year would be it.  After reading brain research that shows that students pay proper attention to the same amounts of minutes as their age; oh yes, I have 9 minutes of attention time, I knew I had to stop talking.  Immediately, me ego tried to stop me; how will they ever learn anything if I don’t tell them all about it?  Well, that has been the great part.  Students seem to be actually learning more this way.  They are talking to their classmates about concepts, they are figuring things out on their own and most importantly; they are eager to get to work and learn something.

As the proud parent that lets go of the bicycle so junior can peddle on their own, I am learning to let go of my own ego.  We are so highly educated that we think the only way the students learn best is if we teach them.  Wrong, the best way for student to learn is to explore, and fail, and then explore some more.

So while my classroom may be a little more noisy, ok, a lot more noisy, this year, and lessons may be taking a bit longer because the students have to discover the answer rather than me pointing it out to them, there is also more excitement, more come on and do it and more get-to-it-ness then there has ever been before.  So even though I catch myself sometimes talking too long, I am also getting better at letting go.  After all, I know this stuff already which is why I  am the teacher, now let them have their turn in the spotlight.

assumptions, community, lessons learned

Well, Mrs. Ripp….

Pernille Ripp

I have been working a lot with my students about trust and how we must trust each other in the classroom. We do this through meetings when we get a chance or small conversations through the day. Today, as we sat in a circle, we once again discussed how we need to trust each other when it comes to learning. The students know this lesson and can recite it but I always wonder; do they understand it? Well, ask and you shall receive…

Students agree that they would never mock another child for getting a math answer wrong and neither would they roll their eyes if someone wasn’t able to perform at a certain level. When asked why they wouldn’t, they told me that they knew better than that and that they do not want to hurt each other. I then asked whether they would mock someone at recess – silence. Shy glances, shifty looks and finally a couple of students started to speak in vague terms about other students and how they misbehave on the playground.

After some discussion, students admitted that they too can lose their temper with each other and don’t act the same way at recess as they do in the classroom. I, of course, finally asked them why? The answer: “Mrs. Ripp, you are not out at recess.” When I wondered how that mattered, they answered “Well, we always behave around you because we are afraid of you…”

Apparently, I have some thinking to do.

being a teacher, believe, connect, education reform, embrace, hero, inspiration, kids, love

We are Superheroes

Pernille Ripp

We are superheroes. Or at least in the eyes of some students, we are. We can do magic such as melt styrofoam cups, solve complicated algorithms in our head instantaneously, and know exactly what is happening behind us when our backs are turned. We are all-knowing, knowing who needs a hand, a soothing word, a joke. We come to the rescue of students that are lost, disheartened, upset over a fight with another child. And we love endlessly, always ready to share , hug (if allowed), laugh, and even cry. We are superheroes.

And yet, sometimes we forget that, and a raised voice stains our image. A sharpness of tone shows that we might be a little bit evil. A lost temper may prove it once and for all. And the students watch, and talk, and remember. And yet, they continue to believe because we build it back up. We continue our quest to make them superhuman, to make them believe in themselves. To pass on our powers as healers of the world, changers, movers, learners, teachers. We do it all and we do it out of love, respect, necessity. We let our students become our mission because someone has to show them that there is faith that they too will become superheroes one day, that they too will believe in others, that they too will change a life. So believe in yourself so that others may believe in you as well. The difference is being made, just look into the eyes of your students and you will see it. They believe in you, now believe in them.