Tag: writing

Be the change

This Year I Am Boring My Students (On Purpose)

Pernille Ripp

I have been thinking a lot about boredom. And how so many of us, yes, myself included, seem to be almost allergic to it. I am not aware of this obviously when I search for constant stimulus, but my brain is.

It shows up in the exhaustion I feel at the end of the day, in the way I can’t quite remember the details of my life like I used to. How my own kids will bring up events that they remember so clearly, and yet I don’t even remember them happening.

I feel my hand reach for my phone before I am even aware of my brain telling me to do it. As I write this in my greenhouse, my phone lies next to me, calling to me with a quick check of Instagram to see how my latest post is doing, or perhaps to extend that Snapstreak I have with my husband.

None of this is new.

People much smarter than me have been ringing the alarm on attention issues and how we all need to be more bored, more often, for years. We know it. We try it. And then we get busy again, and we are right back to the cycle of stimulus chasing.

And yet, we also know that within boredom lies creativity, and so it is this that I ruminate on today. Because where did my own creativity go? And what happens to creativity when those behind all the latest AI tools want us to believe that it can come from a machine? What happens to creativity when we can be handed a manual for practically everything we can dream of doing, and assume that because our worlds are so filled already, what we have invented and created now is enough?

I see it with my students too. When I tell them to free draw, they immediately ask me if they can watch how to draw on YouTube. When I propose a dance break, they want a Just Dance with choreographed dance moves. When I invite them to write a story, often it is the first idea they go with, and often that idea is inspired by a game, a movie, or set in a world not created by them.

When I push them beyond the scripted or the known, they get a little lost. The insistence of needing help grows louder, the confidence drops, sometimes even followed by tears.

It turns out not knowing what to do, or not having a guide to follow, is a really scary place for some.

And I get it.

In a world where so many of us feel like we need to be perfect because that is all we are surrounded by, who wants to stand out as unique or creative? After all, when you take a risk, others may not like it, others may judge you. And with phones ever present, it is no longer just those close enough to you that can witness your strangeness. The whole world can point its finger and laugh.

So how do we invite boredom into our classes? Because it is kind of the opposite of what we have been told to do for so many years.

Do more, make it exciting, teach like a — insert whatever. Bring the exuberance and plan many activities in a short amount of time so you don’t lose their attention. Faster. More tech. More tools. More colors and noises. Bombard them so they don’t want to look away. Feel a dip in energy, do a game. Eyelids getting heavy — brain break!

And we leave the days needing to recover because our brains were never supposed to take so much in, no matter how well we think we do at it.

If we already know that we can’t win in the dopamine race that our brains are constantly in, then why even bother entering?

Because I am sick of running at a furious pace just to keep up with something I wasn’t meant to keep up with. And so in some ways, this year, unintentionally, I have been trying to bring boredom back into my classroom.

Slowing down purposefully, inviting children to sit in the discomfort of not getting help right away, telling them to try even when they are frustrated.

We have started with reading for more than 10 minutes now. A slow invitation into community and stories that allows everyone to settle in, settle down, and sink into their minds. I am steadfast in my commitment that this is one of the largest gifts we can give children. A book where they get to find peace, hopefully.

We do choose your own writing every week. Four choices are presented, or they can do their own, and as the year has grown so has the given time. Write beyond what you think you can. Allow yourself to think. No rush to get started, but select something that piques your attention. And keep at it. It doesn’t have to be good, it just has to be written.

Our art classes have been freer, techniques shown, and then make something. Back to the basics of how to use the world for inspiration, mixed in with more formal lessons.

Saying no to brain breaks as a way to relax, and instead recognizing them as a way to hype up. They bring the energy, not a break, and so I use them for that purpose.

Using our class meeting as a way to reflect on how our community is and what it needs work on, and taking the time it takes because that is the whole lesson.

Staying with our read aloud and not offering opportunities to do anything else while you listen, except that you can choose to lie down if you would like.

Actively looking for places to slow down, focus in, and not feel the urge to rush through lessons in order to keep the excitement up. Sure, that three week unit on idioms should have ended two weeks ago, but we are still in it, and we are still having fun.

I need them to be present, I would love for them to be alert, but I am going to give them time to be involved longer.

And so as I dream of next year, although I still teach until June 26th, as we do in Denmark, I am thinking of more ways to cultivate boredom, and hopefully creativity, with my new 1st graders.

I asked Claude what ideas it had to share, and of course it complimented me on my thinking, because according to AI, I am a genius. But the ideas shared beyond that were worth perhaps considering. Or perhaps, when I garden next, where I have banned AirPods and music, my mind will wander and more ideas will flow as my hands dig in the dirt and order starts to take shape. Because after all, I discovered that my key to creativity is dirty hands and plans that promise a bright future.

From Claude:

What a great question — and a countercultural one. Here are some ways to build productive boredom into your teaching:

Create empty space and protect it

The instinct is to fill every minute. Resist it. Build in unstructured time with no task attached — even 5–10 minutes where students have nothing they have to do. Don’t rescue them from the discomfort. That discomfort is the point.

Give prompts with no right answer and then go quiet

Ask a question, then wait far longer than feels comfortable. Don’t fill the silence. Don’t rephrase. Just wait. Students will eventually stop looking to you for direction and start looking inward.

Remove the scaffold before they feel ready

A lot of creative paralysis comes from over-scaffolded tasks. Give a topic, a blank page, and nothing else. The constraints they invent themselves are always more interesting than the ones you provide.

Slow down repetitive tasks on purpose

Repetition — copying, tracing, sorting — creates a kind of mild cognitive float that’s actually fertile ground for ideas. Don’t apologize for it. Let minds wander during it.

Ban “I’m done”

When students finish early, don’t give them the next thing. Say: now just sit with it for a bit. Make “done” a beginning rather than an ending.

Build in maker/wonder time with no product requirement

Time to draw, build, mess around with materials — with no expectation of output. No sharing, no display, no rubric. The absence of an audience changes everything.

Let lessons meander sometimes

Follow a tangent even if it takes you off-plan. Model for students that curiosity doesn’t always lead somewhere useful — and that’s fine. Wandering has value.

The underlying principle: most creativity tools in school inadvertently kill boredom by replacing it with stimulation. The goal is to stop filling the gap and trust that students will eventually fill it themselves — with something that came from them, not from you.

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?

assessment, feedback

If Kids Don’t Understand the Feedback, It’s a Waste of Time

Pernille Ripp

I haven’t used this blog in a long time. With the move back to Denmark, navigating the world as a mom of neurodivergent kids, and just the world (waving hands around me), this blog has been quiet. But with the decision to shut down my Patreon, I also might just come back here more. After all, my mind is still going a million miles a minute and perhaps, somewhere, someone could use a few of the ideas that I have. So hello again. It’s nice to be here.

Ever had a kid read your carefully written comment—something insightful, brilliant even—only to ask, “What does that mean?” Yeah. Me too.

If feedback is just for us, if it’s full of teacher-speak or rubrics no one actually reads, kids will ignore it. Not because they don’t care, but because it doesn’t feel like theirs.

Let’s fix that.

Instead of handing them a rubric, build it with them. Here’s how:

1️⃣ Look at real work – Show them examples (past student work, mentor texts, whatever fits). Ask: What makes this good? What makes it confusing? Let them lead.

2️⃣ List what matters – Write down their words. Not “clear transitions” but “It flows” or “I know what’s happening.” Keep it in their language, not ours.

3️⃣ Make it theirs – Turn their words into a checklist, an anchor chart, or a simple, student-friendly rubric. Let them help decide what matters most.

4️⃣ Use it. Every time. – When they write, when they revise, when they give each other feedback. Ask, “How does your work match what we said makes this strong?”

If we want kids to actually use feedback, it has to belong to them. Because the best feedback isn’t what we tell them—it’s what they understand enough to use.