aha moment, Be the change, students

Show Them You Are Human – George’s Aha Moment

Pernille Schmidt Ripp
George is a Principal at a K-12 program in Stony Plain, Alberta. On his blog he says, “I learned quickly that as an administrator, you are only as good as the people that are around you.” George perpetually reaches out to new educators, as well as new followers on Twitters and has proven to be a real leader in bringing principals and others together.  He blogs on several sites including his own blog The Principal of Change and the Connected Principals blog.  Follow George on Twitter at @gcouros, you will not regret adding this fantastic initiator to your PLN.

It is easily one of the most vivid moments that I have had as an educator. It is also a moment that I reflect on continuously when looking at my own practice, and helping to guide the practice of others.  It was my first “truck” you.

Okay,  so “truck” was not the term that was said at me, and I am sure that you can figure out what it was.  I had been teaching for 6 years and not one student had ever sworn at me.  I remember other educators telling me when a student swore at them, and it was like a fairy tale to me.  No student would ever do that.  How dare a child swear at a teacher!  I remember having some teachers that I did not like at all, but I would have never sworn at them.  Then it happened to me.

During lunch one day, I worked at my desk that was just tucked outside of the office.  During this time, I would work on course work as I was doing my Master’s degree.  Let’s just say that it was a very BUSY time for me and my life.  Although the door was locked, there was a window where you could see anyone that was in my room.  Sitting in the dark and trying to focus on my work, I wanted to be as unnoticeable as possible.  Feeling as if I should not be uninterrupted in my office, I remember a student knocking on the window as he printed something off in my office.  Being so stressed at this time and wanting to finish my work, I remember nodding my head and shaking “no” to the student.  He knocked again.  Again, I said “no”.  Then it happened.  Through the glass window, Patrick (not his real name), a grade 9 student, mouthed those words to me; “TRUCK YOU!”.

I looked up, and if he did not have my attention before, he had it now. I jumped from my chair, and being a rather large man, Patrick RAN AS FAST AS HE COULD.  Looking back, I was so stressed at this moment, that I am glad Patrick ran.  I was SO mad, hurt and embarrassed.  I was also angry. Very, very angry.

First of all, before I go on with this story, my behaviour towards the student was wrong.  Patrick was treated basically like a second class citizen.  If my principal would have come to the door, I would have popped up and opened it for her.  I would have also opened it for any staff member.  At that time in my life though, I would have not done the same for a student.  This is wrong.  You do not have to spend every moment at school around people.  We all need breaks.  You should always be caring and respectful though.  Always.  Although no one ever deserves to be sworn at, I treated that student wrong.  This was part of my “A-Ha” moment.

As I was furiously looking for Patrick around the school, I remember thinking of all the things that I would do to ensure Patrick’s day would be ruined.  I continued to envision how I would take Patrick to the office, demand his suspension (five day minimum of course) if not his expulsion!  I was so upset.  At this time though, Patrick was gone.  He had fled the school grounds.  He knew I was mad and he was scared.

Eventually I cooled down and realized how hurt I was by the whole incident.  How could a kid have done this to me? No one should be treated this way.  My anger soon turned to hurt.  I did not cry, but it was close.

Patrick came back to school.  Although I did not consciously decide to take a different approach, I did not take Patrick to the office.  I remember seeing Patrick and asking him calmly to speak to him in a side room.  He knew he had done something wrong and saw that I was calm.  When I did talk to him in the office, I started talking as a real person.  I told him that my parents were actually coming to visit the school in the next few days and now I was so embarrassed that a student in our school would say something like this to me.  How could I bring my parents into this environment?  I did not know if I could trust him to show respect in front of my own family.  I told him I was hurt.  I told him I was shocked.  I told him that I would not be able to sleep at night because this happened.  

Patrick saw I was hurt, and being a 14 year old boy, he fully understood the impact it had done to me.  He apologized and started balling at that moment.  I never did march him down to the office because I did not have to.  I felt he had learned from what he had done and that he was going to move on and be better.  I was right.

For the rest of the year, Patrick was THE NICEST kid to me at the entire school.  He went out of his way to say kind things to me and always made sure that he was nothing but respectful.  Not only was he great to me, but I really loved to learn that kid and we would even joke about the “truck you” moment.

My “aha” moment came not immediately after, but through my constant interactions with Patrick.  I thought “what if” I would have taken him to the office.  He probably would have been suspended, but he would have been the “bad” kid according to me, and I would have been the “jerk” teacher to him.  He would have never realized that I was actually a real person, but just “some teacher” who was rude and disrespectful to him (which I was).  I talk about this with staff when discussing bring students down to the office.  How many times have we taken kids to someone else to “deal” with and then lost out on the opportunity to connect and work with them through something.  Separating yourself from kids because they have done something wrong shows them that they do not need you at all.  There are definitely cases where students need to go to the office, but as the people “on the spot”, we should try to learn with these students together.  I do my best to get to know kids, but I will never know them as well as their homeroom teacher.

I also learned that it is much easier to teach a student about right and wrong when you do it from a humanistic perspective.  Being the “authority” often turns people away from you.  Showing that you are a person with feelings though, makes it a lot harder for a person to continue to be disrespectful.

From this moment, I know that I focus on treating everyone how I would want to be treated, especially students.  They need to feel loved and cared for and know they are the reason we are there.  I also learned that working with a student through their mistakes is not a pain, but an opportunity to teach something way more meaningful than what is in our curriculum.  I guarantee Patrick will remember that incident just as vividly as I have, and do his best to respect those around him.  Yes, some of these incidents are tough to deal with, but if you are expecting your job just to be easy moments, you are in the wrong profession.  Do not treat these moments as hassles, but into opportunities to connect and learn with your students.  Most importantly, be yourself.  Showing yourself as a human will not only shed a different understanding on you by your students, it will also make your job more rewarding.  Enjoy the kids you work with and appreciate that every moment you are in school, you are learning.  

I learned more about good education practice from those two words that day, than I had in several years of university.  Who would have thought those two words would have had such an impact.  My two words back? Thank you.
Be the change, new year, reflection

What I Wish I had Known My First Year

Pernille Schmidt Ripp
Another school year is about to start and I am bursting at the seam with new ideas for better learning in my room.  I look back on the two short years I have taught and think of how far I have come already, imagining what I will look back upon in 20 years.  I see success and I see failures and it leads me to think of what I would have done differently had I known what I know now.

  • I would have questioned grades sooner rather than working so hard on averages only to change my mind come report card time.
  • I would have learn to reach out faster to co-workers and particularly veteran teachers that could have steered me in the right direction many times.
  • I would have given up the notion that I must know what I am doing at all times.
  • I would have given up on the teacher lectures and let the students talk more.
  • I would have embraced the noise more rather than futively signaling for quiet – who learns in total silence anyway?
  • I would have pulled down the awesome board and declared all of my students to be awesome each and every day.
  • I would have realized that it is ok to feel overwhelmed and it is ok to not take a huge pile of work home with me once in a while.
  • I would have realized that great learning doesn’t always come from all worksheets or even written work.
  • I would have let students work on enrichment if they had mastered a concept, why beat them over the head with it?
  • I would have given myself a holiday from being perfect.
I would NOT have changed:
  • The incredible passion I feel for my job every day
  • The deep love of my students and their whole being
  • The way I connect with students through sharing our lives together
  • The ability to try new ideas and also know when they suck
  • The reflecting over my failures (but I would have let go of the useless beating up of myself over them)
  • The amazing feeling of responsibility and awe I have over being placed in charge of kids
  • The belief that i can change the world through these kids
  • The love, the love, the love
Happy first days to everyone
Be the change, rewards

Sticks and Stones May Break My Bones and Rewards Will Always Hurt You – Confessions of a Former Rewards Addict

Pernille Schmidt Ripp
This post is, was, and will be inspired by this post written by George Couros “The Impact of Awards“

I admit it.  Gold stars, super duper stickers, sticks, names on the board; I have done it all.  And when one reward system failed, another one took over.  Never one to sit and reflect that perhaps it was the system that was faulty and not just that the students grew tired of it.  After all, that carrot at the end of the stck was essential to my teaching success.  Those stickers meant I cared.  That Awesome board where A+ work was proudly displayed gave students something to strive for.  That certificate if you got an A on your math test meant that you were smart and that other students should look up to you.  Right?  Wrong again.

Oh, I thought I was clever.  I thought I knew how to motivate students and after all, what could a little reward do that would possibly hurt the child?  Well, after reading Alfie Kohn’s book “Punished by Rewards,” I realize just how wrong I have been.  Those papers on the awesome board did nothing to improve unity in my room.  Instead they acted as the great divide, highlighting the students that could from those that could not.  Those stickers I doled out for anything above 90%; not a cheerful way to celebrate achievement, but rather a glaring marker showing which students did the best in the room.  Those great “you did it” award certificates stapled to their math tests, not great posters of pride but instantaneous feedback on where a students falls within the grade hierarchy.  And yes, the students knew exactly where they fell within the classroom.

So this year I am throwing it all out.  Well, most of it anyway, I do like those stickers and will use them for good rather than evil.  And I am petrified.  After all, this is how I was taught to teach.  If a student does something good they should be rewarded and nothing says “Great job! I can tell you worked so hard” better than a smiley face sticker.  Wrong again.  A smiley face sticker says; “If you work hard, you will get a smiley face sticker.”  And when in life does that ever happen?  This year, I plan on talking to my students even more.  Telling them what was great, asking them what they thought was great and then peeling apart things that didn’t quite get there and figure out what went wrong.  We shall learn from our supposed mistakes, those will be our rewards.

So while I am excited for this new no-reward agenda, I do shudder a little bit at the implication it has.  No longer will I be the cool teacher with the Awesome board, the one you get to have pizza with if your stick doesn’t get moved, the one that doles out classroom parties as if they were clean socks.  Instead, I will be the one that shouts the praise the loudest to every kid.  The one that talks to all my students and highlights all the things they did right.  The one that creates more work for herself because talking rather than just placing a sticker takes more time, more effort, more thought.  And I can’t wait.  Will you join me?

aha moment, Be the change, being a teacher

Don’t Be a Worthless Ball of Goo – Jeremy’s Aha Moment

Pernille Schmidt Ripp
This week’s Aha moment is shared by Jeremy Macdonald, a 5th grade teacher in Klamath Falls, Oregon. Besides opening minds of 5th graders he is also in charge of professional development at his school in regards to technology integration and can be found on twitter under @MrMacnology.  He has a fabulous wife and 3 wonderfully crazy kids.  A fellow grade slayer, deep thinker, and just one of the boys, his blog always inspires me to do better, strive for more, and just overall think about why I do what I do.


I’ve never looked back since that day.  I remember the rush that I felt.  There was no doubt in my mind.  It was my epiphany; my “Aha!” moment.  I finally knew what I was going to do for (essentially) the rest of my life…

(Camera fades out, flashback a la Wayne’s World.)

Since I was eight I wanted to be an F.B.I. agent.  My dad did it.  My uncle did it.  Several of my dad’s cousins did it.  I had a family heritage to uphold.  Shortly after graduating high school, I was getting ready to enroll for my first semester of college.  I was going to study psychology.  I wanted to “understand” the perps I would soon be investigating and apprehending.  I dreamt of closets full of dark suits and guns.  I was ready for shootouts and car chases.  I clicked the final “Submit” button and I was enrolled.  A few introductory psych classes along with a few other generals.

Jumping ahead a few months, I found myself sitting in front of that same computer screen, but this time in my dorm room.  I had about seven minutes before my first class started, but my room was at least a fifteen minute walk away.  What was I doing?  Why was my hand ready to click “Clear All” below my class schedule?  I really didn’t know WHAT I wanted to do.  Had I deceived myself with countless hours of the X-Files and Unsolved Mysteries?  I believe I had.  So I clicked.

Here I was, no classes, tuition paid, books bought, on the first day of school, and I was clueless.  Not exactly the best feeling.  Something led me to my university’s school of Fine Arts and Communications.  After a few minutes (and I mean this literally) of consideration, I was now a Communications Major, with a focus in Advertising and copy writing.  I was always day dreaming, doodling, and coming up with silly stories while growing up.  I thought that Advertising would be a great way for me to use this creativity for the greater good…(especially since I wouldn’t have to shoot anybody now.)

(Cue soft piano music and chimes)

(Camera fades out, and through a light fog, camera fades back in.)

So here I am after a two-year hiatus after my freshman year, newly married, and looking to explore a bit of Business and Finance before I commit to Advertising.  I loved being able to create, write, and laugh at most everything I did, but I was also a numbers guy and money had always interested me.  I enrolled in some basic business classes like Econ 110 and Accounting 101, in addition to my continued pursuit of Advertising.

It was the middle of the semester and Norm Nemrow was giving his famous “Sixth Lecture.”  He had nine required lectures during the semester–the rest of the learning was done on the computer and in the lab.  The “Sixth” was the one every Accounting major remembered.  It had nothing to do with accounting, actually.  It was a life-lessons lecture.  Norm talked to us about making life decisions based on our passions and what made us happy and not based on money or the endless pursuit of it.  Now this came from a man that was easily worth nine figures before he was 40!  Easy for him to say, right?  But in reality it was, and he meant every bit of it.

Norm, too, had an “Aha” moment.  He realized one day during retirement (remember, this was before he was even 40 years old) that he was a “worthless ball of goo”–his words, honest.  He had done nothing with his life since retiring and felt that he had more of a purpose to fulfill.  Long story short, he started teaching at the university.  For free.  And it was during that fabled “Sixth Lecture” that I learned all this, but it was what he was about to say that struck a chord.

“If I could go back and start over, I would have started right here, in the classroom.  I should have started as a teacher.”

(Cue light bulb.  Student “A”–that’s me–gazes towards ceiling with thoughtful expression)

Big words from a man that could fund a stimulus bill all on his own.  I knew he meant it though, and that’s when I said, “Aha!”  I literally had to keep myself from standing up and leaving.  I was ready to change majors and step into a classroom of my own.  Why had it taken so long for me to see this?  Psychology?  Advertising?  Business?  Who was I kidding?  What better place for a hyperactive daydreamer with a love for pencil fights than an elementary classroom?  I was a shoe-in.

(Cue sentimental piano/violin music a la the end of an After-school Special)

So here I am.  Over seven years since that day and I’ve never looked back; never second guessed; never regretted that decision.  It’s strange how life leads you down the most obscure paths before you “find your way.”

I will soon be starting my fifth year in the classroom and I think I’m more excited now than I have ever been.  Much of this anticipation is due to the marvelous PLN that I’ve been able to build over the last several months.  From Twitter to Blogs to #rscon10, I have been able to experience growth as an educator, and a learner, than I have at any other point in my career.  I am grateful for friends and colleagues like Pernille who drive me to think differently about learning and encourage me to keep doing what I’m doing.

(Fade to black)
Be the change, reflection, students

Dear Arnold…

Pernille Schmidt Ripp
Dear Arnold,
It was 2 weeks into the school year and there you were in the office; pants down by your knees, no backpack and the biggest grin stretched across your face.  When you asked me if I was your teacher and I said yes, you wrapped both tiny arms around my belly and gave me the biggest hug any skinny 4th grader had ever given me.  As we walked to the classroom, you eagerly asking questions, I thought about how lucky I was to have you in my room since you had that great big smile, if only your pants weren’t so close to your knees.

The class invited you in, they were used to kids coming in from other cities and also fell under the spell of your smile.  Introductions were made, tentative friendships were formed.  Then one day, you started yelling. You were so mad, I had never seen a skinny little child scream so loud and so fiercely standing up for what you thought was an injustice.  Pulling you out into the hallway, I calmed you down and soon that big grin came right on back.

It was like a bubble had burst that day.  The grin was hidden away and the anger and the need to fight for yourself became a frequent visitor.  And yet, you never were angry at me.  I never felt threatened even when other teachers pointed to my growing belly and asked how I felt safe in my room.  I tried to explain to them that you were just being loud, venting a bit, and that all that screaming really was just for show; a way for you to fight for yourself as you had had to do so many times before.

Every morning you would say hello to the baby in my stomach and you would tell all the other kids about it.  Every morning I would remind you to pull up your pants, until I finally got you a belt, which you then strapped around your knees so that the pants stayed right there.  Almost every day I would pull you out in the hallway and remind you to just breathe, the others weren’t trying to make you mad.  Take a deep breath, let’s talk about it.

It was time for the baby to come so I went on leave.  I cried even though I knew my kids were in the best of hands.  I would try to sneak by for visits with the new baby but you always spotted me from the classroom window as if you knew that today was the day I was going to stop by.  You loved that little baby as much as you loved me and you told her that every time you held her.  I noticed you now had sticker charts and reminders of anger management strategies and that your grades were so bad.  And yet, when I walked in that door you told me about the good things.  See Mrs. Ripp, I got a C on this paper.  See Mrs. Ripp, I did this.  Your pride could not be taken away.

I came back from leave and you were the first one down to my room.  That big old hug came out again and you mentioned how much easier it was to hug me now.  Later that afternoon, that angry little boy was there again, yelling so loud for my attention.  Your lungs must have gotten bigger in the 12 weeks I was gone because I had never heard such a noise come from such a tiny child.  Just breathe, it will be alright.

The school year started winding down and we still battled with your demons.  I could read all of your signs.  Your fist closing, your quicker breaths, your eyes darting from place to place.  I knew when that voice would come back and I knew that you weren’t mad at me; you were just mad at the world.  And the world sometimes seemed to be mad right back at you.  That final day when we said goodbye, you cried sitting under your old desk.  You looked up and asked me, “But Mrs. Ripp, what am I supposed to do?”  I had no answer so I simply hugged you one more time and cried with you.

All summer I thought about you and tried to contact you with no luck.    When another year started I was told you had moved again and would not be back to my school.  I just hoped and wished that I had given you enough reminders to breathe, calm down, it’s not you against the world; it’s us against the world.

I still look for you whenever I find myself in a big crowd of kids.  Hoping that from somewhere in the middle of all those little bodies, one set of skinny arms will reach out and hug me and say “Mrs. Ripp, where did you go?”  And I would tell you, “Nowhere, I am right here if you need me.”  Arnold, I am still right here.

aha moment, Be the change, students

Love Them Before You Know Them- Greta’s Aha Moment

Pernille Schmidt Ripp

Greta Sandler who is an elementary level English as a Second Language teacher in Buenos Aires, Argentina shares this week’s “Aha” moment.  She fell in love with the English language as a child and continues to be passionate about teaching and technology.  As a child she decided to become an ESL teacher but it was as an adult that the road ahead suddenly became clear.  Follow this passionate educator on Twitter at @Gret and keep an eye out for her very own blog coming soon.
I can still remember that day as if it were yesterday. It was my first day at a new school and my first year as an elementary teacher. My lifetime dream was coming true. So special was this day that everything around me was inspiring. I could savor every minute, every second there… just thinking of what it would be like, trying to imagine each of my new students, wondering if I would be able to connect with them, if I would be able to get the best from them. It was that day when I heard a teacher say a magical phrase, “The secret for a successful connection with students is loving them before actually meeting them.”  For some reason, that phrase stayed in my mind. I wondered what she had meant by that, I couldn’t actually figure it out, but it just felt special.

When I was assigned my group, I found out that there was a boy in my class, Thomas, who had an average performance, but serious behavior problems. What’s more, he was about to be expelled from school. I was sure there was a reason for his attitude. Little did I know that the reason would break my heart; it turns out that Thomas had been a victim of sexual abuse some years before. I didn’t know that kid, but he was already my favorite student. I talked to the other teachers, but only heard things such as: “I hate that kid,” “Don’t waste your energy on him,” or “It’s a hopeless case.” Needless to say, that was one of the saddest moments in my teaching career. In his record, all I could find were terrible comments and tons of dark, colorless and aggressive drawings he had made… Everything I read, everything I heard, and everything I saw only made me want to help him more and more.

School started and I finally met my class. Thomas didn’t exactly behave well, but it wasn’t as bad as people had pictured it. I tried to connect with him from the very first moment. I would spend time talking with him, making silly jokes and just showing him I cared. Every now and then, I assigned him important roles, so I could show him how much I trusted him. I always remember calling him Tom, instead of Thomas, for the first time.  I can still see his face glowing, when he came to me and whispered: “I had never had a nickname before.”  I would have never imagined that such a small gesture would touch his heart.

I must admit, I was really surprised when he came to me after a couple of months and said he was willing to improve on his behavior. Not only did he try really hard, but he would also ask me at least once a day if his behavior was OK or not. In addition to this, his grades began to improve and his attitude changed. He started to make friends and he was finally able to participate in class, share his stories and speak his mind. Soon after, everyone started calling him Tom. I saw small changes in him almost every day. 

I was truly touched one day, when I arrived to my classroom and found a beautiful drawing on my desk. Someone had made a drawing of me with a big pink heart on my chest. I couldn’t believe my eyes when I realized who had drawn it. I couldn’t hold the tears when I found this note on the back: “Miss Greta, I love you. Tom”

As months passed by Tom had become a brand new kid. He didn’t behave perfectly, but his attitude was different. He was passionate about learning and eager to keep making progress. It was just motivating seeing him play with his classmates during break time.  Apart from that, his grades had significantly improved and by the end of the year he was one of the best students in the class.
At the end-of-year ceremony, Tom was given an award for his effort and improvement. While he was receiving the well-deserved certificate, I could see his parents and grandparents looking at him so proudly with tearful eyes. That was my “Aha” moment. It was then that I understood how powerful connecting with our students is. It was then, that I finally understood what the phrase I had heard in the beginning of the school year meant.

This experience has totally changed my outlook on teaching. It made me realize how powerful our job is.  I learned that teaching is more than just following a curriculum. We get to touch people’s hearts; we get this unique opportunity of making someone’s life different by giving them tools to be better, by teaching them to believe in themselves and by showing them they are special and unique. It’s by showing them we care that we’ll get to do the most. It’s by loving them that we’ll be able to make them flourish.