Even With Our Changed Classrooms, Have We Changed Anything At All?

Image from icanread

It relates to school because there are calculators...

It relates to school because he uses math in counting out the tickets ...

It has to do with math and that is why it has to do with school...

My students are journaling about the movie "Caine's Arcade" and how it relates to school.  These wonderfully creative, powerfully imaginative students don't see the deep connections between the environment that I try to create and that of Caine.  They don't see how I try to challenge them to problemsolve, to create, to use materials in different ways.  to try, to fail and to have hope and perseverance.

Instead they see a 9-year-old boy who realized life was more than calculators and math.  That you could build something with what you have and have a little bit of hope.  They see that boy as an inspiration, his arcade as incredible, but not those things in the environment we create here, at school. 

What a lesson for me to be taught; school is still seen as its own world with set rules.  Segmented and regimented.  As something departmentalized from creativity, or at least where creativity is built into the day, scripted and called for.  School is viewed as something to be lived through so the real experimenting can happen afterwards.  I may think I do things differently, but I may be the only one.

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Some Say They Are Too Young, I Say, "Trust Them..."

My kids being kids

Even though my fifth graders may beg to differ, they are just kids. Wonderful, young, impressionable things, eager to change the world, kids that have lived a little and still have much to learn. They are young, indeed, but passionate, open, and never ever afraid of a challenge. And yet most just see their age, their made by date, and definitely their grade level.  So should I be surprised when critics claim they are too young for more advanced technology? That serious use of technology shouldn't really start until middle school, that fifth grade is just too early?

I suppose I could be upset at statements that try to limit what my students are capable of.  I suppose I should fire back with witty sarcasm or scathing words. I suppose I should bring that anger home and fume over peoples' assumptions. But I don't, at least not anymore. Instead I plot and plan, I reach out to those who have great ideas and I get really really stubborn. We shall show them after all.

So when some think Prezi is too hard for ten year olds we prove it is not. Or when people are not sure that my students should blog because what could they possibly have to share, we become role models for others. Flip video cameras may have been killed off but in our classroom the students grab them whenever they get a chance to document their learning. PowerPoint becomes an entry point into creation with other possibilities beckoning us further.

They may be young my students, but they are not afraid. So tell us we cannot do something, or even better, tell us that we are really too young to figure it out, and I will show you 22 students that disagree. I will show you 22 students that cannot wait to prove you wrong, after all, you wouldn't be the first.

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You Don't Own Their Summer

Thea enjoying her vacation

Summer vacation is starting to sneak into our school minds as stealthily as the first signs of a cold.  A mention of a vacation planned here, some raised trepidation about next year, begging for me to transfer to 6th grade.  And so while we plow on through all of our projects, still staying focused, I think of the things the students could be doing during that break; math facts, reading, fixing mistakes in their brain so that they start fresh the following year, perhaps even a little bit ahead, ready to conquer the world of 6th grade.  And then I am reminded; I don't own their summer.

Already we have been given gentle recommendations to assign math games over summer. Some students know they will be expected to finish a math book, others to read a classic book or two.  And my outrage starts to bubble.  We don't own their summer, we don't own their summer, we don't own their summer.

Summer vacation in America may be too long for some kids.  It may lead to the infamous summer slide, loss of knowledge, skill setbacks that will lead to worse test results, but we don't own their summer.  Their summer is for them to explore, to renew, to breathe, to invest in whatever catches their interest.  Perhaps their summer will have nothing to do with school and yet everything to do with learning.  Perhaps their summer will be spent reading book after book, perhaps just being at a pool.  Whatever they choose to do with their time is none of our business.

And sure, of course those that assign homework for a class that starts after summer, they have the best interest of their students in mind.  Yet the truth is, you have no right to that time.  You have no power over whether they do it or not.  You cannot expect them to come having read 2 books, or written a paper, or done a packet of math problems.  You can ask them to, but you cannot demand it.  You may say that the summer work is like preparing for a job, but guess what, even jobs give you time off.  You may say that summer work is in the best interest of the students, to keep them out of trouble, well, let them make that decision.  You may say that if they don't work over the summer you will never get through everything you have to cover; that is a time management problem not something you can push onto the students.

You can hope that their summer is spent learning.  That their summer is spent finding new interests.  That their summer wasn't just a big break from anything strenuous, but you cannot decide what they should do. You cannot decide what constitutes summer learning or not, because, yes, that's right, you don't own their summer.

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Do You Dare Ask for Student Feedback?

Yesterday, in a quiet moment of inspiration, as my students were presenting their super hero projects and getting a little droopy eyed, I stopped them and asked for feedback.  And not just great postive statements, but things I should change, things I should keep, things thats hould be removed altogether.  We started with the positives; they loved how I didn't make them write a comic book but rather focused it on character and setting.  They loved the creative aspect, the shared writing, and all of the exmples.  And then I asked what they would change.  After one brave student raised their hand and gave me a suggestion of more partner share, then many joined in and added their suggestions.  These suggestions were better than my original ideas!  I sat there 10 minutes of listening and writing, dumbfounded that I hadn't done this for every single project.

When we decide to ask students how they really feel we run the risk of being told that we suck, to use a favorite 5th grade word.  We run the risk of being told we are boring, that the project was uninspired, and that they would never do it to another student.  (You know a project is bad when it is "done" to you).  But we also run the risk of getting better ideas, constructive criticism, and valid points that propel our projects further into student-directed learning, further into deeper knowledge acquisition.  My students took ownership of the project as well as their criticism.  They didn't feel the need to apologize for what they were about to say but  phrased it specifically and unemotionally.  They knew that I knew it wasn't an attack on me.

So do we dare to ask the students for feedback on all their learning?  Do we dare take 10 minutes of our day to ask for suggestions, even if just one in a while?  Do we dare to actually do something with those suggestions because any fool can listen but it takes courage and dedication to do.  My students showed me yesterday that they trust me enough to share their opinions, they know I will take their words to heart and I will actually change what I did.  They know this because I have proved to them what my intentions are.  What a huge success in a 5th grade classroom.  So ask yourself; have I involved my students?  Have I asked for their feedback and opinion? Those that the learning affect the most?  Or am I too scared to do it? 

Is Twitter a Cop Out?

I am a Twitter fanatic, if you ask anyone, in particular my husband, they will tell you how often I quote something that I learned abut from this social media or how this or that idea came from there. Twitter has enriched my life in ways that I would never imagined when I first signed on a few years ago. In fact, Twitter has radically changed the way I teach and the way I think. Not bad for 140 characters.

As I get more involved with Twitter and the people that I connect with though, I am starting to wonder whether Twitter to me has become the ultimate cop out? By reaching out through the internet, limiting myself mostly to blog posts (which are pretty one-sided) and 140 character tweets, am I shutting off real face-to-face collaboration? You see Twitter doesn't talk back all that much or go to the teacher's lounge and roll its eyes. Twitter doesn't go to your principal laughing at the new hare-brained idea that was just presented. In short, Twitter doesn't make me take a risk. If I offer up an idea I seldom get negative feedback, instead some people take the time to praise it and often comment. I do the same for others, in fact, I hardly ever discuss something in negative terms unless everyone else is. So Twitter becomes the ultimate safety net where we are not forced out of our comfort zones but instead selectively choose who we care to share with and listen to. But I wonder whether that is "real life?" Or does it even need to be?

It struck me today as I read one of my student's blog posts about what was missing in 4th grade. Her comment was that she wished we did more with the other 4th grade classes. And she is so right; that is missing from this year. And not because we don't want to, the initiative just never gets taken. Instead we create global connections which have been incredible parts of our school year, yet perhaps we forgot about our local connection in the bigger picture. bAnd yet it is those local connections that radically determine our day, it is those local connections that see all our flaws and strengths, that see us grow without a lens. Those people that can have the most profound effect on us.

At school when I have an idea I have to find people willing to participate in it, someone whom I trust enough to listen to me and who will then weigh their options. I have to make my case and put myself out there for possible rejection, and it hurts when something gets shot down. Yet it is through these awkward moments of self-selling that we become bigger people and a tighter knit school community. Let's face it, it takes real courage to speak up at a staff meeting surrounded by your everyday peers. Does it take courage to speak up on Twitter?

So I guess I leave you with this question; has Twitter strengthened your local relationships as well or has it made it easier for you to forget about them? Are we all, in fact, just hiding behind our computers waiting for someone like-minded to come and find us? I am not sure anymore.

Bring Out the Experts

The education community loves experts. Experts are flown in, bussed in, and wined and dined. If you are an expert on something chances are there is a school that wants to pay you for sharing your thoughts. In fact, you don't even have to claim to be an expert, others will often bestow that title upon you as a favor. After all, how else will your expense be excused? So I wonder, how does one become an expert, after all, aren't we all just humble learners?

The word expert is tinged with weight. To be an expert you must be not just knowledgable, but also an authority. Yet who decides when one is an authority? Does it need a book deal? A huge following? Or someone else who is an expert to look at you kindly? Who decides who the experts are?

We are quick to bring in outside experts whenever there is a need but often I wonder who could we have turned to on-site? Who at this school could already have shared that same information at a fraction of the price? Who at this school could have had the opportunity to teach others, much as we teach our students every day. I consider myself lucky being surrounded by experts every day. I find myself among some incredible educators that work hard to bring their expertise into the classrooms to benefit the students. Isn't it time for all of us to recognize the experts among us?


I dare to propose that we are all experts. Although not world known, or even known outside of our small circles, yet we are knowledgable of something particular, something that we can claim authority on. And so consider this; at school you are indeed surrounded by experts. Whether they are experts at teaching the civil war, grammar, haikus or how to dribble, they have deep intimate knowledge that they can pass on to others. So share your expertise with others, go ahead open up and discuss what you know you are good at. We have to get better at celebrating each others knowledge, each others succeses, simply each other. We are all experts, how will you foster expertise?

We Are Not the Most Important Piece of Life

I used to think student vacations meant lots of projects for them to do,  but then again,  I used to think a lot of things. This year with the advent of limited homework and more in-school learning, I stopped that practice. First I felt guilty; after all, wasn't I supposed to assign lots of work for students to be engaged in when they were not in school? if I didn't assign work, would they remember what it means to be in school, to work hard, to learn?  And yet, I knew that it had to be done.  Students were asked to read, maybe blog if they felt like it, which some did, and otherwise just be with their family.


The result; happy students who came back eager to learn and share all of their experiences.


As one of my students struggles through the sudden loss of her beloved grandfather, I am strengthened in my resolve to not encroach.  To not impose too much on the outside life, to let my students breathe, reflect, and in this case, mourn, without the pressure of school hanging over them.  For me, it is time I embrace a radical notion;  an education may be important but it is NOT the most important thing.   Life is the most important, and the chance to live it fully, remember it, and grow as a person will always beat the things we do at school.  We are important pieces, but we are not the biggest piece of a person, and nor should we be.

It's Not You, It's Me - Or Why My Great Idea and Your Great Idea Shouldn't Date

We've all been there, bouncing around at your school or home because you just discovered something absolutely, truly, fantastically wonderful that you just cannot wait to try in your teaching.  It is a marvelous feeling this one, one that makes you want to sing from the rooftops and share the idea with everyone you meet.  And then you do and the person who you indulge it with looks at you blankly.  Silence.  Deflated, you walk away, thinking to yourself that maybe that idea was not so great after all.

But wait it's not them, it's you.  Or me in this case.  I am one of those can't wait to try it and then tell everyone about (mostly on this blog) idea kind of people.  I get so overly excited about something that I am practically bursting at the seams with my newfound wisdom and my poor husband is forced to listen to hours upon hours of blissful teacher talk.  I rave, I rant, I share and then I don't understand why others don't see the magic or get as excited to try it as I did.  Take Twitter for example, I don't think I have convinced a single person to get on it, and yet it is one of the most life-altering educational experiences I have ever had.  But it's not the "them" that are to fault, it is me.

We all love great ideas.  We all have them and we all share them.  Some great ideas work especially well for us and others just really don't.  As I grow as an educator, I am beginning to understand more which type of ideas I am really drawn to; student-centered, technology integration, and no grade/homeworks/rewards etc. are things that just rock my world.  Others not so much.  So when other people come up to me and share their great idea, I might be the one with that blank stare that does not show any kind of enthusiasm.  Because to me it just doesn't sound that exciting, or it goes against something I think I believe in, or I just don't have the time.

And that's when I realize, hey it is okay for others NOT to get excited over my great idea.

After all, being a teacher means you get to work with an incredible array of personalities that have one thing in common; they really love kids.  So whichever way, or whichever ideas we use, to get us to change the world one kid at a time, is alright by me.   However, I will promise myself that the next time someone presents their great idea to me, even if it seems a little strange, I will give it a good listen, perhaps even try it, and then decide.  After all, I can only change myself.

Wait, I'm a Foreigner Too

We are at the grocery store and my daughter starts to run away, I yell after her "Thea, kom her nu" and other Danish after her until she comes running back.  As I turn back to the cash register I notice the glance from the cashier and I think, "Yes, I am foreigner too." Being a Dane with every stereotype personified (tall, blonde) in America means people in general do not realize that English is not my first language.  While this is a blessing most of the time, it always astounds me how much of that perception is based on my looks and my name.  I married into a big farm name in this area so my last name "Ripp" means most do not give me a second glance even after stumbling through my first name, which is as about as typically Danish as one can get.

I also do not have an accent.  An early gift from my mother was living in San Francisco at the age of 6 and being thrust into a 1st grade classroom not speaking a single word of English.  Directions were mimed and friendships were formed through glances and lots of hand movement.  Perhaps this is why I speak so much with my hands now?  Either way, research shows that children pick up the native accent if they are exposed to a language before a certain age and I happen to fall into that category.  So when most people discover that I am indeed fresh off the boat so to speak, there are two reactions: "Wow, I had no idea" or "Oh, I thought I heard an accent" (to which I always think, no, you didn't).

So why am I bothering share this story?  Because it made me think of how we treat students who may be a higher level ELL (English Language Learners).  Those non-native speakers that speak so well that we forget that English is not their first language.  We generally remove our support in the classroom, expecting them to do just as well as their English-first speaking peers and then are surprised when sometimes they don't.  We get fooled by their conversational language and perhaps even their academic one, and then do not understand why their written work may be not as strong or another academic area.

So as I think of my own experience as an ELL student, I recognize my own need to re-support those students that may "sound" just fine.  Those students that are very strong but are still learning.  After all, although we are all still learning, when something is not your native language it does add another exciting dimension to your progress.  So enough with my own assumptions, I must not forget about the whole history of the child and not just their present day status.

It Happened at a Meeting

Today I took notes at our staff meeting.  Yes, a highly unusual task for me as I just sit and listen most of the time.  But today was a day for note taking as we discussed hidden assumptions in life.  I have written about this before mainly on this post, but the discussion keeps pulling me back in as I continue to challenge myself.

To assume means to suppose to be the case, without proof and it is this last bit of the definition that really sparked my interest today.  When we assume in our classrooms, do we do it because it is easy?  Because of intellectual laziness?  Or is it some inane need to classify in order to navigate through life?

As teachers we often assume whether we can admit or not.  We assume perhaps that a child who rides a certain bus has a laundry list of issues that need correcting.  Or a child who comes from a wealthy neighborhood should be fine academically.  Perhaps we assume socioeconomic status based on a pair of worn out shoes, rather than stop to ask the child, who may in the end, just really like those shoes.  We provide snacks for the kids who live in rental properties, and extra time to do homework because their home-life may be tough, but how often do we ask our middle-class kids whether they are having difficult or whether food is sparse at their house?  So in this instance, we assume because we are used to it.

I didn't start my job with these assumptions, in fact, I prided myself on how much of blank slate I was.  And yet, here they are now, fighting me every day.  We see our class list and images and connotations frequent our thoughts until we meet the kids and then (hopefully) realize how wrong we are.  We base our class lists for the coming year on even more assumptions about how a certain student may be do in a certain class based on the assumptions we make about that teacher.  Sometimes others correct us and sometimes the assumptions is given more life because others nod their head, already victims of the same cloaked inferences.

So why are assumptions bad?  As a victim of many, I can tell you they diminish you as a person unless you fight hard enough to break out of them.  Because I moved a lot as a child due to my mother being awarded Fullbright scholarships, I was assumed to be transient with everything that entails.  Because I was taught English at a very young age, and thus was the only 1st grader fluent in English, I was assumed to be gifted, which I am not.  Because I was raised by an incredible single parent, I was assumed to have "daddy" issues or be the victim of a lackluster childhood, when the opposite is true.  My mother's scholarships means I learned what it means to be a global citizen.  Being fluent in English means that I can teach my class with a native accent, rather than the awful Danish one (Lars Ulrich anyone?), and being raised by the most passionate and inspiring of mother's who later married her soulmate gave me a role-model that I will forever try to emulate both in life and in love.  In short, my "messed up life" on paper proved to be a fantastic journey.

As we pass our assumptions on in the hallways, meetings, or lounge conversations, we breathe new life into them.  When we have one more child that fits the bill of what we thought they would be like, then we pat ourselves on the back, and know that we were right to categorize them such in the first place.  Every year, as more students come our way, we strengthen our categories, our distinctions, and it becomes harder to see the truth, to wipe them all away.

Some will argue that there is nothing wrong with assuming certain things, and I agree that this is not a black and white discussion.  Yet something has to be done with the monologue constantly running in our heads.  When we do not speak our assumptions aloud, no one is there to refute them, and so they take on more "truthiness" until we don't remember a time when we didn't know this to be a fact.  We have to fight our assumptions before we make them truths, the future of our students are at stake.

Which Lens Do You View the World With?

We choose how we view the world, a line taken from an excellent post recounting a mother whose daughter has autism speaking to a group of MIT professors. Think about it for a moment, it is a quite deep sentence, we choose how we view to world...

Now flip that to your classroom, your school, your community; we also choose how we view these. Do we come to school with dark colored lenses where no matter what our students do, it is simply not good enough? Are our lenses wonky where we end up treating our students unequally? Is one eye closed to the world so we only see one side of the story? Or do we wear rose-colored lenses so that the world always seems bright and cheerful?

My lenses are clear, therein lies no fog. I view the world every day with a slight rosy tint to it but clear nonetheless. And more importantly, my lenses work both ways; they view the world and they view myself. I am always checking, readjusting and cleaning off my lens, so that whomever I encounter gets a clear view and not one tinted by perception. Is it time you clean your lenses?

Are We Forcing Students to be Noncompliant?

Noncompliance; just the word makes me shudder.  So many connotations, so much negativity connected to this word, particularly in a classroom setting and yet you hear it whispered in the hallways, "noncompliance..."  This word means:  The failure or refusal to comply, meaning someone who is not following directions whether intentional or not.  It is a mantra that we repeat, we must have students that comply in order to be successful.  Without compliance our classrooms would simply fall apart.  


Think about your day; you expect certain things out of the students for the classroom to work.  Perhaps these expectations are simple such as signing in, getting to work, hanging your backpack, and handing in your homework.  Or perhaps these expectations are ones that have been taught, such as raising your hand, not interrupting, working hard and trying your best.  Whatever your expectations, sometimes there are kids that do not comply.  I once had a student that didn't comply, it was a tough year, everything was a battle.  And yet, it was not because of a refusal to do so, he simply failed in the act of complying.  He had too many demons to battle that there simply was not enough life energy left over to focus on all of my expectations and demands.   So he was, indeed, noncompliant.  


Think about the heaviness that comes with that word, though, when we label our students.  Is it really because they are truly refusing or is it because of failure in communications or expectations?  Perhaps a child becomes noncompliant because we set up perimeters in which they cannot succeed.  Think of the child that fiddles, that child will not perform as expected if we set them up with nothing to fiddle with.  Or the child that learns kinestethically rather than orally; if we continue to just talk rather than do, they might also not conform or do what we expect.


So when you set up your classroom expectations, think about what you are asking every student to do.  Does every rule need to apply to ever student?  How many rules or expectations does there really need to be?  Don't forget about your hidden assumptions that you have to communicate as well.  What in your learning environment can you change to to give the biggest percent of kids a chance to be compliant?  We often assume that students defy us on purpose, rather than figuring out the reason.  And yet, sometimes the real reasons for students behavior may be something we would have never guessed.  Instead of battling later, don't set your room up for battle instead set up your room for freedom so that students may have choices.  Offer them an opportunity to be successful, to be compliant, to want to learn, after all, most ids do really like school.  Let's not take that away from them.

Don't Judge that Bus

Those kids that come from that neighborhood, perhaps it is one bus, perhaps most of your school.  Whatever the numbers, there are always those kids.  The poor ones, the ones that wont have a real Christmas because there is no money, the ones we worry about because surely someone has to save them from themselves, from the cycle.  Those kids said with connotations, with meaning, with emphasis.

What shall we ever do for those kids, with those kids, to those kids?

And yet those kids may not be what we think they are.  Yes, they may come from a certain neighborhood, or arrive on a certain bus, walk a certain way, speak differently than me.  And yes, mom may be young or dad non-existent.  There may be holes, tears, too short of pants, missing backpacks, and free and reduced lunch.  But what there isn't is one story.  There isn't one thing we can know about those kids.  There is perhaps no need to fret, to worry, to save.  We are always trying to save those kids.  Sometimes what is needed is the lack of connotations, the lack of assumptions about life quality or needs.

Yes, they may come from that bus but that does not mean they need help.  They may come to school with that swagger but that does not mean that life will always be hard or that bad choices will be made.  It is time to stop making those assumptions about those kids.  Stop hiding behind trying to be a better person by "adopting" those kids as your project.  Treat them the same and if there is a need for help, help, but don't jump to conclusions, don't guess, ask, discover, and find out.  Those kids are just that; kids.

Sing the Praise of Other Teachers

We want to be a welcoming school, a place where all students feel safe, happy and inspired. We cherish our kids, greet them in the hallway and take a special interest in anyone who needs it or just happens to be in our path. We recognize achievements, we assemble and build community, togetherness and pride in ourselves and each other. We discuss how to do it better, more, bigger. How can we reach each kid to make them feel appreciated, acknowledged and valued? And yet, sometimes we forget about the teachers.

We are so busy always focusing on the achievements of the kids that the natural success of fellow staff members becomes something that slips our mind or is an entirely taboo topic depending on your staff climate. Why? Shouldn't teacher accomplishment, whether big or small, be the first place we start when we discuss success in our school? Don't we want to be part of an active community where you hear genuine praise in the hallways, classrooms and staff lounge? We forget to share or assumptions are made that no one wants to hear it. I some places, jealousy can rear it's ugly head and people learn to not share, to not divulge that they did well on something.

Enough of this fear of acknowledgement! Ban the temptation to not share or highlight. Praise others as you wish your students would praise each other. After all, our students learn best by example, think of the great learning experience it will be for them if they hear natural praise every day between staff members. Start small, be genuine, be brave and take the first step; tell someone you noticed, you cared, you were inspired. Praise someone and set the example, start a movement.

Declutter I say! Or Why Motivational Posters Demotivate

Life is full of choices, so choose carefully! How can anyone love you if you do not love yourself? And my favorite: failure is never an option! All sayings found on various motivational posters sold to teachers that mean well and boy, do they sell. Anyone who has ever been in a teacher store those last couple of weeks before school start will see the poster wheels spinning frantically as the just right poster is sought. Ok, I admit I, I was one of those teachers, however, I thought I was clever and that I had it all figured out. You see, I had edited my pre-packaged collection and therefore only had select few displayed. Thus, my students knew that these were the sayings they had to focus on. I remember one was a cute little frog hanging on to a tree branch and something about sticking with it. Oh, day in and day out that little frog inspired my students to never give up! Right? Well, not exactly. My students didn't care. I am sure they thought they were cute and one or two of them used them for inspiration for their own doodles in their journals but did it ignite their passion for learning? Hardly, in fact, I would like to argue quite the opposite. You see, my students were overloaded with messages. Walk into almost any elementary classroom and you will be bombarded with motivational posters, hand-made posters, student work, rules, classroom jobs and anything else that deserves a special place on the wall. And we don't just tack it to the all, we put up back posters and fancy boarders o that it gets really colorful and pops! In fact, bare walls are taunted and laughed at, seen as someone being unprepared or dare I say dispassionate about their room, their job, their kids!

And so the pressure on new teachers in particular is immense. You may be new but your room should still look inviting, educationally functional and also be a representation of you as a teacher. That last week before my first week of school ever, I was waking up in cold sweat wondering whether the kids would get "me" in the room? And then school happened and I realized little by little that even though I had labored intensely over my handmade sign with the great Shakespeare quote "Do Not be Afraid of Greatness" my students had never read it or noticed it really. How do I know? My principal asked them about it when I was observed the first time. But surely they had noticed all of the signs? Not so much, even if I had pored over each placement of every poster so much that my walls had holes in them from my tearing off the gorilla tape (note to self: don't ever use gorilla tape again.) I had created rules - keep them simple but firm, and a little flexible. Classroom jobs - instill responsibility but make the chart so fun that the kids cannot wait to see what job they will do. And maps - I had maps all over my room. Why maps? Well, I really like maps and they filled all that dreaded empty wall space. I would have continued to cover and decorate had it not been for a pesky thing called the firecode. It stopped me at 20%.

So what changed? One day I realized that it wasn't my room that represented me, but myself that represented me. In fact, I got sick of re-taping posters that kept falling down, or moving them when I actually needed the space for learning and so little by little down they came. The ultimate clean up came when I had to move rooms this year. I sorted, evaluated and donated. Now I chuckle when I see my "old" posters hanging somewhere else. Don't they realize why I got rid of them? I also thought about my students more and how they reacted to the environment I created. Too much of it was about me, and how I wanted the room to be. They didn't feel welcome or that the space was theirs, but merely as guests passing through borrowing the space. Another consideration was that I have students that get over-stimulated quite easily. Being a clutter freak myself I start to get clammy when I stay in these rooms too long so imagine if you are a student trying to focus on whatever is going on on the whiteboard. Where do you look? To the poster telling you to keep focusing or on to the actual board? So is my room bare walls? Nah, but what is up there is important. In fact, the kids have noticed what is posted. Quotes form the Little Prince, from the "I Have a Dream" Speech, and student introductions in Wordles. We have some literary elements as reminders and even a couple of pictures. The students know how obsessed I am with zombies so they draw me pictures of flesh eaters. No rules, no motivational posters, just us. Our space, our room. And most importantly, room to grow into a community. Into making the space our own. They own the room as much as I do and that is more important that sticking to it or never giving up!

They are Someone's Child - Tania's Aha Moment

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.

Well, Mrs. 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.

How Homework Destroys

It finally happened; a parent decided to disagree with my new take on homework. They do not feel that I am providing enough and thus am doing a disservice to the students by lulling them into a fake sense of security in their skills. My response at first was indignation; how dare so and so question my fantastic educational shift in philosophy. Why are they not enlightened or believers as well? And then it dawned on me; I have not shown them the way.

I spend a lot of time speaking to students about what we are doing, why we are doing it, and what the goal is for their learning but not enough explaining that to the parents. And while I hope that parents have faith in me, I cannot take it for granted. I am, after all, messing with a system that has been set in place for many years and that these same parents are products of. So, of course, my system may come as a shock at first, and without the proper explanation it will continue to be so. After all, parents have been trained to think that for every grade level you figure out homework load by multiplying the grade level with 10 minutes. So by 4th grade, students should at the very least be doing 40 minutes of homework a night. And yet, my students don't. They do most of their work in class, even staying in for recess so that I may help them, and I never willingly send home a piece of homework that I know they will struggle for hours with.

Homework should be practice, a showing of skills. It should not be a two hour time consumer where both mom, dad and the encyclopedia gets involved. I explain this to my students and the sense of relief is visible in them. They know that I will challenge them in class but at home they may pursue life instead. So if you work hard at school then the reward is rest, family time, and a pursuit of happiness. And it works. My students are still learning everything they should for the year, albeit in a more hands-on manner. I am shying away from worksheets and instead having conversations about learning. Our favorite tool is our dry-eraseboards that allows me a quick check in for understanding. And the students are noticing the difference. No longer dreading the afternoon because I will continue to haunt their day. No longer dreading school because it means so many extra hours of works. No longer dreading learning because they are realizing that learning is something you do at school and that it doesn't come form worksheets.

When I recently welcomed 9 new students into my room, one "old" student told me that she was looking forward to seeing how the newbies would react since I "teach a little crazy." And perhaps that is true. I am loud, obnoxiously so at times, and I have high standards. I push kids to learn, I push kids to understand, and then I back off. I let them think about it, let the learning resonate within them, and then I challenge them to dredge it out again the following day.

By no means, am I the perfect teacher. I have many years of learning to come, but I do know that I am on to something here and I stand at a fork in the road signaling a massive shift in my whole educational philosophy. I believe these students are learning, I believe I am preparing them as well as any other teacher, and most importantly I believe I am letting them be kids at the same time. My students know that if something is homework it is for the benefit of their learning and is important to do, not just another piece of paper that their teacher didn't get to in class. They know that I only assign it if it is truly valuable, and not just something for me to use for grades. They know that we will meet and discuss their learning, always knowing what is missing, what is accomplished, what the direction should be. They know that if I assign something to them it is because they have the skills needed to do it. Do yours?

So What is Your Assumption?

    We do it all the time, assume...  We assume people are a certain way, or they like certain things, or that they will answer in a certain way, just because we know better.   I do it on a daily basis, whether I like it or not.  This weekend was no different as I attended a pageant for the first time to watch a dear friend's daughter pass her crown on.  I sat through talent and all i did was assume; that girl looks like she is easy, that girl has no chance of winning, that girl was obviously told she is a good singer but my lord someone needs to tell her the truth.  And I felt good about my assumptions, after all, I am always right.

Well, as I went back to hotel room I thought more about these assumption and just how closed off they make me.  And even more so, how these assumptions hurt me more in the long run than anyone else.   It also made me realize how on a daily basis in my classroom I assume many things.

Home Life:
All the time, we assume that students have a certain type of home life depending on their socioeconomic status, their skin color, their language, their homework completion etc.  Often these assumptions lead to how we "deal" with the students in terms of giving another chance to do homework or extended time on a test.  Even more often we don't have the time or chance to find out what really is going on in their home life and in turn affecting them greatly at school.  How many times do you assume that the smart student who is always happy is actually experiencing her parents fighting all the time? We are good at assuming that our poor students come from broken homes and good at assuming that our white kids have both mom and a dad.  It is time we stopped thinking we know "those kids" and really get to know our students.


Cooperation:
We always know which child will be the difficult one after orientation day, you can just see it on them, right?  Wrong.  That child may have a bad case of the nerves, I know I do, or just wake up super grumpy; guilty of that as well.  I will not believe anyone that says they can judge a person within the first 5 minutes.  If you think you can, maybe you should look at how often you were wrong.  I can tell you countless times those first day perceptions were dead wrong.


Intelligence:
This is something we all partake in whether we are willing to admit it or not.  We base our misconceptions on things such as hair color, height, weight, skin color, accent or dialect, clothing and the list goes on.  How many times have you heard someone describe someone's intelligence level with a knowing look and a hint to where they come from, because that explains it all?   Well, it doesn't.  Being both blond and foreign I have two things stacked against me.  People either assume I am Swedish or stupid, I disagree with both when needed and get offended when I have to. 

Basic Knowledge:
As a teacher, I hope that all of my students have learned all of the curriculum they are supposed to have learned by the time they get to my room.  I certainly know that my co-workers do their very best in teaching them.  And yet, how many times have I been proven wrong when I think I know exactly what my students know or don't know?.  That kid that struggles in math might be really good at math facts, or that kid that writes 3 grade levels below might be a strong reader.  And it even goes the other way; strong readers may be terrible writers.  Just because we think we know does not mean we really know it all. 

    So, I am not a saint; I will go on assuming as I always do.  And yet, I do promise to try to assume less or at least check out my assumptions after I have made them.  I feel that we assume because it provides us with a sense of security; when we can label a person then we know how to handle them.  I wish I could tell you that at the beauty pageant I had many "hallelujah moments" where I was shamed out of my assumptions; I didn't.  However, it wasn't because my assumptions were right, I just thought it was much more fun to think I knew everything instead of being proven wrong.  I am after all just a human being.