Tag: education

Passionate Readers, Reading, Reading Identity

The limitations of Lexile scores and what to use as well

Pernille Ripp

In my Patreon community, a fellow educator recently reached out with a growing concern: their district has mandated the exclusive use of Lexile-leveled texts in English classes. That’s right—only texts that align with students’ grade-level Lexile scores are now considered acceptable. The frustration in their message was tangible. Texts that students love, that have sparked rich discussions, and that they’ve built curriculum around are now off-limits because they don’t “fit” the approved band.

I’ve long raised concerns about the over-reliance on Lexile scores. Like many of you, I’ve seen firsthand how these measures, while perhaps well-intentioned, can be wielded in ways that do real harm to reading joy, choice, and depth. So, if you’re facing increasing pressure to center Lexile in your classroom—if you’re trying to navigate a system that keeps narrowing what “counts” as appropriate reading—I hope these thoughts and ideas help.

Limitations of Lexile

Limited Understanding of Text Complexity

Lexile scores are essentially math. They rely on sentence length and word frequency—quantifiable features that can be measured by an algorithm. But we all know that complexity is never just about numbers. A book like Night comes in at a relatively low Lexile level, and yet its themes of loss, isolation, and moral ambiguity leave readers shaken. A text might be “simple” on paper but profound in practice.

Instead, try:

  • Use a text complexity triangle (quantitative, qualitative, reader & task) when planning. Bring students into that process—ask, What makes this book challenging? What makes it powerful?
  • Encourage student reflection journals or book clubs where kids identify their own “hard” books—not based on Lexile, but on how the text made them think, feel, or struggle.
  • Create classroom charts that define complexity through student terms: “Books that made me cry,” “Books I needed to reread,” “Books I’ll never forget.”

Considerations:

  • How does Lexile account for the cultural and historical significance of a text?
  • What qualities of a book matter most to your students?
  • How can we expand students’ definition of what makes something “challenging”?

Exclusion of Inclusive Texts

One of the most heartbreaking outcomes, and oft-overlooked aspects, of Lexile-only policies is the quiet erasure of culturally rich and relevant literature. Books written in vernacular, verse, or translanguaged text often get pegged with a low Lexile, despite their emotional and intellectual heft. That means fewer books by authors of color, fewer windows and mirrors for our students, and fewer moments of deep connection.

Instead, try:

  • Curate parallel text sets: pair a high-Lexile nonfiction article with a lower-Lexile but deeply resonant novel or memoir. Let students draw connections between form, voice, and truth.
  • Push back by documenting engagement: show how students are thriving with texts “below level” by collecting writing, discussion notes, and self-reflections.
  • Use picture books and graphic novels with older readers—these often get dismissed due to low Lexile, yet offer rich analysis opportunities and accessibility.

Considerations:

  • What culturally relevant texts are missing from your curriculum because of Lexile?
  • How can student voices help you advocate for broader criteria?
  • How do we make the case that what students read matters more than how difficult it is to decode?

Narrowing Students’ Reading Choices

If we want kids to love reading, we have to let them choose what they read. That means trusting them with books that fall outside their “band.” Lexile-driven mandates send the opposite message: we don’t trust your choices, your interests, or your readiness. But reading joy isn’t built through constraint. It’s built through access, autonomy, and meaningful support.

Instead, try:

  • Build “just-right-for-me” libraries where students classify books based on interest, not level. Include sticky notes with peer reviews and genre tags.
  • Hold 1:1 conferences where students reflect on how books make them feel, not just how hard they are to read.
  • Share stories of your own reading life: books you loved that were “easy,” books you gave up on, books that changed you. Model complexity in decision-making, not just content.

Considerations:

  • What happens when we let students build their own definitions of “good reading”?
  • What are the long-term consequences of only offering scaffolds instead of skills?
  • How do we teach students to be readers without us?

Ignoring Individual Student Needs

Teaching is about relationships. About knowing the kid who hides behind her hair and always picks dog books. About the one who just discovered he loves horror. About the quiet student who will read 600 pages if you don’t make him write a log. Lexile scores can’t know them—but we can.

Instead, try:

  • Use Lexile as one data point—alongside student interviews, running records, self-assessments, and your own observations.
  • Let students set reading goals that reflect their identities: “I want to finish my first series,” “I want to read a book by someone like me,” “I want to try nonfiction.”
  • Co-create book stacks that mix comfort reads, stretch texts, and “wild cards” just for fun.

Considerations:

  • How can we restore the nuance of teaching in a data-driven system?
  • What tools do you use to get to know your readers deeply and personally?
  • How can you document growth in ways that go beyond numbers?

I’m not anti-data, far from it. But I am against any system that flattens our readers and limits our reach. We deserve better tools. Our students deserve broader definitions. Reading instruction should be built on relationships, curiosity, and choice—not compliance.

So when Lexile threatens to become a gatekeeper, let’s push back. Let’s expand what counts. Let’s keep joy at the center. And let’s keep sharing what works—not just because it sounds good, but because we’ve seen it in action.

I’d love to hear how you are navigating this. What has worked in your district? How are you reframing conversations about levels, choice, and rigor? Let’s keep this conversation going.

being a teacher, end of year, reflection

Sliding into break by stopping the teacher thought train

Pernille Ripp

An oldie but a goodie as many start to slide into summerbreak. Here in Denmark we go all the way until the end of June, with “just” a month off, before we head back in August. Perhaps like me, you need to find a way to stop the teacher thought train?

As an educator in the US, it normally took me weeks to finally relax at the end of the year. In the countdown to goodbye, my body took on more and more thoughts, as it got ready to finally have the time to process the whirlwind of a ride I had just been on.

Those thoughts churn into late evening, meticulously turning over the last school year, analyzing needs, reflecting on mistakes, and, of course, planning for the next year. Is a teacher’s brain ever truly at rest?

So while the calendar may finally say break, my body takes a long time to believe it.

A few years ago, I realized that if I was ever going to get to a point of relaxation faster, I needed to somehow stop this process of thought pile-up my brain otherwise jumped into. And so I started reflecting in a way that felt opposite of how I normally reflected. In a way that focused on reclaiming my identity beyond  teaching, as a way to find a better footing when, inevitably, the rush of the school year would swallow me whole again.

It didn’t always work and I go through many questions, sometimes they work, other times they don’t. Perhaps a silly exercise, but in so many ways these questions allow me to recenter, give myself permission to say “good enough” and also make some promises to myself about how I want to face another year that is bound to be even crazier than the last (at least, if the last couple of years have been an indicator).

So here are a few I have tried that seem to help me unlatch from the mania of teaching. That allow me to find myself again as my kids wait for me to become present once more. Perhaps they can help you as well?


Perhaps you have your own to share?

PS:  I don’t always write the answers down. These can also be used in  discussion or simply thinking about them. If writing feels like more work then I don’t do it.

being a student, being a teacher, reflection, Student Engagement, Student-centered

Would I like being a student in my own classroom? A reflection tool

Pernille Ripp

One of my driving questions for the past 15 years has been a simple one; at the end of the day, would I like being a student in my own classroom? And as I have one month left of school, I feel the question pressing in on me as I think of next year and both the joy of continuing with my current class, as well as becoming the classroom teacher for a different class.

Would what we do make me feel safe? Help me engage? Make me feel like my voice was heard and respected? Would the way we learn, grow, discuss, and assess make sense to me?

This question is a conversation starter, an invitation into meaningful reflection where you get to craft the path for what you may need to shift or tweak your day-to-day practice.  Because ultimately it is about creating conditions for shared power as a way to show children just how much power they can have over their own bodies and minds, even within the confinements of a publicly mandated and government decided educational system.

In fact, this question is at the core of my newly published book, Passionate Learners – How to Engage and Empower Your Students, now in its 3rd edition! But it’s not the only question, I ask. In fact, the books has more than 100 reflection questions embedded throughout, some big, some small, all meant for you to carve your own path into a more sustainable, meaningful practice.

But as a way to get you started, I decided to pull together a reflection sheet for you, modeled after questions in chapter 2 of the book.  It’s 3 pages with 12 questions, that can be used by itself, as part of a larger reflection, or a book study, individually or with others. You can do some of the questions or just a few. You can write, discuss, or simply think. It’s a tool, use it as such and make it work for you. 

👉 Link to the tool right here

And if you are interested in diving deeper, I highly recommend my book. I poured my heart into it, making it a practical invitation into co-created spaces that are not exhausting to be in. And right now, it is on sale.

The book is written as a companion to the practice you already have. It is not meant as a long list of abbreviations or new systems, but instead a way to help you reflect, while also offering up a major array of practical strategies and tools that you can use the very next day.  It is meant as an affirmation, while also giving you access points to grow your practice so that you may feel better about the time you spend teaching, the students feel like what you do together matters, and that everyone is given tools to continue being critical questioners and thinkers outside of your learning space.

Is it worth it? You can see the reviews from other educators here

Whether you buy the book, or simply follow my work on Instagram or Facebook, just know that I am here to help.

👉 Access the PDF right here

assessment, feedback, grades

Rethinking Feedback: Shifting the Power to Students

Pernille Ripp

We know feedback matters. I think of all the ways I have grown because my students, my husband, my editor, and so many others have bothered to share their wisdom with me. Sometimes it stings. Sometimes it sits in the back of my mind, waiting for the right moment. And sometimes, it changes everything.

And yet, when it comes to students, we often act as if feedback is something we do to them rather than with them. We spend hours writing comments, circling errors, suggesting revisions. But how often do students actually use it? How often does our feedback feel more like judgment than guidance?

Maybe it’s time to rethink who gives feedback, how it’s given, and why it even matters. And maybe we can shift our feedback practices in ways that actually work for kids—without adding more to our plates. Here are four shifts that put students in charge of their own growth.

1. Ditch the Teacher-Only Feedback Model

We shouldn’t be the only ones giving feedback. In fact, we might be the worst at it—too rushed, too generic, too focused on what we think matters instead of what they care about.

💡 New idea: What if students got more feedback from peers, younger students, real-world audiences, and even AI tools—and less from us?

👉 Try this:

  • Have students share their writing with a younger class. It’s wild how quickly they’ll simplify, clarify, and revise when they realize a first grader is their audience. I have done this for years with speeches and even our nonfiction picture book unit, it alters the entire process.
  • Use AI to generate feedback alongside human feedback—then have students compare. What’s useful? What’s missing?
  • Create a “feedback portfolio” where students collect and analyze all feedback received (not just yours) and decide what’s worth acting on.

2. Scrap the Grade—But Not for the Reason You Think

We talk about “going gradeless” to reduce stress, and to make learning more meaningful, but removing grades doesn’t matter if students still see feedback as punishment.

💡 New idea: It’s not about eliminating grades—it’s about making assessments feel like coaching instead of judgment.

👉 Try this: Instead of “no grades,” try collaborative grading. Sit down with a student and decide their grade together based on evidence of growth. Let them argue their case. Shift the power.

I have done this for many years, not just with student self-assessments but also their report cards. The conversations you end up having as a way to figure out where to land offer immeasurable insight into how kids see themselves as learners.

3. Let Students Give YOU Feedback First

What if every piece of feedback we gave students had to start with them giving us feedback first?

💡 New idea: Before turning in a project, students answer:

  • “What’s the best part of this work?”
  • “Where did I struggle?”
  • “What specific feedback do I want from you?”

👉 Try this: Make a rule: no teacher feedback without student reflection first. If they can’t identify a strength and a challenge, they’re not ready for feedback yet.

4. The One-Word Feedback Challenge

Ever spend time crafting detailed feedback, only to have students glance at the grade and move on?

💡 New idea: What if our feedback had to fit in one word? Instead of writing long paragraphs that students ignore, we give a single word that sparks curiosity: Tension. Clarity. Depth. Risk. Precision.

👉 Try this: Give students one-word feedback and make them consider what it means. Have them write a short reflection: Why did my teacher choose this word? How does it apply to my work? This forces them to engage with feedback before receiving explanations.

Feedback shouldn’t feel like a dead-end—it should be a conversation. When we shift the balance, when students take ownership, feedback stops being something they receive and starts being something they use. And isn’t that the whole point?

authentic learning, Be the change, being a teacher

Protecting Our Practice: What’s Working and How We Keep It

Pernille Ripp

For the past 3 years, I have been sharing resources on my Patreon, with that being shut down, I figured I would share some of them here. This is one of my latest posts, I hope it is helpful.

If there one thing that is constant in education, it’s change. I think it’s what drew me to be a teacher in the first place, besides the kids, of course. Education is full of change. New ideas, new programs, new expectations—always something new to implement, improve, or undo. And yet, we rarely stop to ask:

What’s actually working?

Not in a “let’s be grateful” way. Not to ignore what’s broken. But in a real way—naming the things that are making a difference for kids right now and figuring out how to keep them from disappearing.

Because the best things in education? They don’t vanish because they stop working. They vanish because no one gets to protect them.

Five steps to protect your real best practices

Instead of just naming problems, try this instead:

1️⃣ Name It

What’s actually making a difference right now?

Not “what should be working” or “what’s supposed to work”—but what’s really helping kids learn, feel safe, or stay engaged?

This could be:

• A structure that supports all learners

• A routine that fosters belonging

• A teaching practice that engages even the hardest-to-reach kids

Think about your classroom, your team, your school. What’s worth protecting?

2️⃣ Figure Out Why It Works

• Is it because of a system in place?

• A shared school-wide effort?

• A few committed teachers holding it together?

If something only works because a few people are giving 200%, it’s fragile. The goal isn’t just to notice what works—it’s to understand why it works.

3️⃣ Ask: Is This Replicable?

Would this still work if new teachers joined? If leadership changed? If budgets shifted?

If the answer is no, then it’s not protected.

Good practices should outlast the people who start them. If what’s working is too dependent on individuals, it’s time to build structures that make it sustainable.

4️⃣ Make a Plan to Protect It

The best ideas don’t survive unless someone fights for them. So, as a team, ask:

• What do we need to keep this going?

• Who needs to see its value so it’s supported long-term?

• How do we make sure this isn’t just an “extra,” but a part of how we do school?

If something is working, it should be built into your school’s foundation. Not just something you “hope” stays.

5️⃣ Keep It Visible

The next time a new initiative rolls in, a funding shift happens, or a schedule changes, pull out this list and ask:

❓ Will this change threaten what’s already working?

❓ How do we keep what’s good while making space for new ideas?

We lose the best things in education when no one names them, protects them, and reminds people why they matter. So make the list. Keep it visible. Use it to push back when needed.

Your Turn

What’s working in your school right now that must be protected? How do you make sure it lasts?

Try this with your team. Then come back and tell me what showed up.

assessment, discussion, feedback, grades, Student Engagement

Let Kids Reject Feedback (Yes, Really!)

Pernille Ripp
A quote block where it says: Good feedback isn't about control, it's about conversation.

What if kids had the right to ignore our feedback? Not because they’re stubborn or disengaged, but because they understand it—and decide to make a different choice.

Too often, feedback feels like a demand: Fix this. Change that. Do it this way. But writers? They get feedback, weigh it, and sometimes say, “No, I’m keeping this.” That’s not disengagement—it’s ownership.

Let’s Build Feedback Negotiation into the Process

Instead of expecting students to accept every suggestion, teach them to think critically about feedback—to question, challenge, and ultimately make their own choices.

1️⃣ Shift the Conversation – Before giving feedback, set the tone:
🗣️ “You don’t have to take every suggestion. Your job is to think about it.”
Ask them: What do you want my feedback on? Where are you stuck? Make it a dialogue, not a directive. I’ve written about this before in the context of only looking at one thing in writing conferences.

2️⃣ Teach Kids to Push Back (The Great Way) –
When students disagree with feedback, they need language to explain why. Try modeling this:

  • “I see what you’re saying, but I’m keeping this word because it’s my character’s voice.”
  • “I understand your point, but I want this to feel unfinished on purpose.”
  • “I’ll change this part, but I’m going to keep this sentence because it’s important to me.”

If we want students to engage with feedback, we have to let them practice rejecting it thoughtfully—just like writers do.

3️⃣ Make Choice Part of the Process – Instead of requiring students to change everything, try this:
🔹 Pick one piece of feedback to apply and one to challenge. Explain why.
This simple step forces them to consider feedback instead of just following orders.

4️⃣ Celebrate Thoughtful Resistance –
When students defend their choices, it means they care. That’s the goal. Instead of marking something as “wrong,” ask:

  • Why did you make this choice?
  • What effect are you going for?
  • How can you make this even stronger while keeping your vision?

Good feedback isn’t about control. It’s about conversation. And if we want kids to become confident writers, we have to teach them that their voices matter—even if that means telling us no.