sh.st/tVdGD sh.st/tCXMj Wallpaper Euro 2012
Showing posts with label life choices. Show all posts
Showing posts with label life choices. Show all posts

It Takes One


"Here you go, you can have this one."  A little boy gives a train to Thea and she eagerly grabs it from him.

"You can also have this one," he says and once again happy fingers snag the train.

Another little boy approaches the train set and Thea turns to him, "Here you go, we're sharing."  And with that, 3 happy strangers each with their own train piece playing alongside each other.

It takes one child to start a behavior.  One child who shows others what to do or not to do.  One child to be the leader; right or wrong.  That child can choose to bully or that child can choose to lead.  A choice to think something is "cool" or not, a choice to accept or reject.  Sometimes the choice is made deliberately, other times it is matter of timing, comfort and perhaps even manners.  

It takes one adult to start a behavior, to set the precedent, to take their mood and view and influence others. It takes on adult to either welcome or dismiss ideas, new people, or even students.  One adult to show what to do so that others may follow.  Are you that adult?  And if yes, how do you lead?

I Must Apologize Beforehand - A Serial Apologizer Apologizes


Image from here


I have to start out by saying I am sorry for what I am about to post.  It may offend, it may irk you a little, so thus the apology beforehand.  See there now you are disarmed and perhaps it wont really be so bad, after all, the apology has already been given.

I am serial apologizer.  Not for my life really but for the way I teach.  I don't flash the way I work in my classroom, which sounds ludicrous since I blog about it, but if you catch me in conversation, I am not one to tell you that what my kids do is pretty spectacular.  That the kind of community I am part sometimes makes me deliriously happy.  That I am so proud of all the work my students do, of the risks we take, and the mountains we climb.  I don't flaunt it because that would be too offensive.

And yet, for every time I hide what I do.  For every time I don't stand by the choices I have made in case I may offend someone, I chip away at my own desire as a teacher to be a world changer.  My own world, the world of my students, and perhaps even the greater world outside of my room.  For every time I wrap my teaching philosophy in apologies a little bit of it gets duller, less fantastic, until I wonder what I will be left with.

So why is it I feel the need to apologize?  Because I am different?  Because I have opinions?  Because I vehemently believe that the focus has to be on the needs of the students and not that of the teacher?  Because I believe in honest communication and not veiled lingo?  Because I believe that you have to fight for change from within in any way you can and give your students that voice?  Because I believe that we have to get the students involved in their own education so we don't lose them, after all education should not be done to them but with them?

I am not sure, I am sorry, I really don't know  But it is making me think that I need to stop.  I am starting to think that I need to stand by what I do a little taller, a little prouder and not diminish the choices I have made.  The choice to be different in an otherwise cookie-cutter educational system because it is what I believe in.  The choice to throw away punishment, lecturing, homework and grades as much as I can and instead focus on knowledge, exploration and the need to fail over and over again.  The choice to change, the choice to not do it the way I was taught, and the choice to take risks.  After all, it is working, I am sorry, but it is true.

The Story of the Child that Changed Me

If I could go back and undo what I did to a child some years ago I would.  This child, who so desperately needed to feel in control of something in their life, came to me and only got more of the same.  Less control, more demands, more punishment, rather than a safe haven to feel like they was ok, like they belonged, like they were listened to.  They say you learn from your mistakes, and this is one of those kids I have learned from the most.  

    Peter wasn’t always unhappy, as evidenced by the smiling pictures I saw of him from younger years.  By the time he reached the third grade though life had gotten in the way and those smiles were far and few in between. The first time I met him, his mother dragged him into my room late for orientation and started to tell me how I would have a hard time with this one because he was lazy and didn’t care.  I don’t think any child’s shoulders have ever slumped more than that.  As I nodded through his mother’s complaints, I swore that I would be different, that Peter would start to love school again, that I would help turn this kid around.  Looking back, I see now how failed this notion was given the constraints I had placed myself under in my classroom.  I was a novice teacher, someone who still believed that I should run my classroom like those who had come before me, like people I had read about in textbooks, like they had taught me in college.  I believed that the teacher was the power, the one with all of the knowledge, and the best way for students to learn was to listen to me dole out wisdom.  Sure there would be fun, we would have parties and rewards for homework turned in and good behavior.  There would also be punishment for those who misbehaved or dared to not hand in their homework.  Grades would be motivation and threats would be the norm.  Nothing like building a relationship with a child by telling them if they don’t comply they will get an F.

    So Peter put his trust in me and at first I got him to smile, to open up a little, to have some success.  Days passed and I thought I was helping, I was fixing, I was changing this child’s life.  That is, until he didn’t do his homework.  I didn’t take the time to find out why, I didn’t ask any questions, but just told him to put his name on the board and to stay in for recess.  During recess he worked so slowly, punishing me for calling him out in front of the class, that the next day his homework was still not done.  Again, I didn’t ask any questions but just called him out, embarrassing him a little and then told him again that recess would be mine until this math was done.  Again slow and painful work meant that he barely finished.  What I didn’t know was that our power struggle had just begun and it would last the whole year.  Me in the role of enforcer, as supreme teacher that took away instead of gave, that punished rather than asked questions, that wanted more control rather than let him have some.  You see, I think all Peter wanted was control.  He wanted a space where he could come in and feel that he had a voice, that he mattered, that he belonged.  But by removing control from the classroom and even more so for him, I didn’t let him find his voice.  I didn’t let him invest himself into the classroom.  I didn’t change his mind or change his ways about school, I just let him live up to what his mother had so thoroughly predicted; that he was a no good troublemaker.


    Peter made me almost quit teaching because I saw what I had done to him.  I saw by the end of fourth grade how my decisions to run my classroom in a traditional sense had taken all of his pleasure out of learning.  I knew that summer that I had to change and one of the biggest things to go was the passion for control.  Students had to feel they belonged because they had to feel it was their room.  They had to have a genuine voice that listened to their needs and let them shape the classroom.  They had to have room to grow, to fail, and to embrace each other’s strengths through collaboration and hands on exploration.  No more teacher as the sage on the stage, but rather shine the light on the students.  Had I given Peter classroom like the one we create now, he would have had a reason to speak up, to get invested.  He would have loved the choices, how his voice mattered, and how his creative side could be explored.  He would have perhaps taken a small leadership role to show the other kid that he was worthy, to show them that he did belong on the team, he would have cared.


I run my classroom now with the mantra of students first in everything I do.  Their voice matters, their choices matter, and their opinions matter.  I do not punish and I do not reward.  Students work together when we can and always have a choice in how they do things.  They sit wherever they want and we try to eliminate homework.  If you work hard in our room you do not have to bring the work home.  They belong, they own the room, it is theirs and that is what I should have done from the moment I started teaching. I realized it isn’t about me, but about them.  I can never undo what I did to Peter and those other students before him but I can make sure I never do it again.  I have changed my teaching style because of this child and for that I am grateful, even if he will never know how much he influenced me.

Those Little Words

I am proud of you.
Look at what you did.
You can do this.
Explain this to me
What else can happen?
Thank you for today.

Small words, big meaning.  Those words we choose to share with those we surround ourselves with every day.  Those words we do not ponder or carefully measure out.  Those words we do not plan for, study, or write down lest they be forgotten.  Those are often the words that carry the most weight to our students, to our colleagues, to ourselves.

A smile, a hug, or even a look in the eye.  Those speak volumes every day.  The little things we do matter more than we know, so be aware and give enough of the happiness you should feel waking up every day knowing that you are part of the change, of the hope, of the incredible world that is ours.

Rain Puddles

Today, freshly picked up from daycare, my two year old Thea ran out out of the car and into the nearest puddle.  Free from inhibitions, my husband blames this on me, she jumped and jumped until her pants were soaked.  Thinking nothing of this minor obstacle, she quickly sat down in the puddle, took her sandals off, then her pants, and then her diaper for good measure.  As I stood there watching her so uninhibited enjoying the freshly made rain puddles, I quieted the voice in my head that told me to get her inside.  That voice that warned me of germs, and colds, and what will the neighbors think.  And so there she sat in her puddle, by then eating a popsicle she had begged for and she said "swimming mommy, I swimming."  In her head this puddle was the biggest swimming pool she could have ever asked for.  In her head life at that very moment offered her everything that she wanted; no clothes, water, and a delicious treat.

So I let her play and was once again reminded that it is okay to back off.  It is ok to not reprimand or remind of the rules. It is even okay to sit with your butt in a rain puddle if it happens to be the perfect day for that.  Thea will be just fine.

Today I Choose to be Happy

Image from I Can Read

This morning as I woke up. I chose to be happy.  It was not a hard decision, the temperature has finally reached above 60, the birds were chirping, my husband was there.  And yet, I made a choice to be that way.  When I get to my classroom this morning, I will also choose to greet my students with a smile, give them a run-down of our day and end it with a "I am so excited for today."  I do this every day and my students crack up, after all, how can one teacher be so excited about every single day?

The attitude we bring into our classrooms is a choice, and a very important one.  There has certainly been days where I have chosen to be in an awful mood, stress will do that to you, but when those kids walk in our door, then I choose differently.  I don't believe in putting on a show for the kids but I do believe in giving them my best, after all, they choose to come to school excited as well.  So together we get excited, sometimes we choose to be mellow and snuggle in with books in our special reading spots, other times we meditate on the floor, whatever we do, we choose it together.

So today I choose to be happy and just a little bit goofy.  The school year is winding down, my students are having  harder time focusing, so together we will not just get through the day, we will experience it.  Every moment is a choice we make, whether we acknowledge it or not.  What do you choose?

Choose Your Message

With the waves of uncertainty surrounding us, I remain steadfast in my commitment to my students. I remain steadfast in my commitment to my family, to myself, and to my dream of positivity. To say that life is stressful would be an understatement. Personal life-changing issues abound, as well as professional ones, yet I remain steadfast in my dedication.

We choose what we portray. We choose the message that we bring. And although life may be very hard, we choose how we deal with it. This time has tested me to the core, and yet I choose to smile. I choose to exhibit hope and positivity, fore I choose to stay above water and not get pulled down. So ask yourself, what do you choose? What do you bring in with you when you show up at work or at home? What is it people will leave your conversations feeling like?

As teachers we affect more than just our students. We affect all the staff in our schools, and we affect how the children entrusted to us, go home and in turn affect their families. We have an immense opportunity and indeed responsibility to have a positive effect on all the paths we cross. So yes, I get how tough it is right now, and no, I am not a saint. I have bad days, I have horrible days, but I cannot focus on those. I have to remember why I am here in the first place; to make a difference, and not a bad one.

We speak of peer pressure as if it is a always a bad thing. I exert my peer pressure but use my powers for good rather than evil. I choose to continue to focus on a message of positivity, of challenging oneself to not be the pebble, and hope that I can influence others to do the same. Perhaps it will be cool again to smile? Perhaps laughing will become the new "it" thing to do. Who knows? I choose to remain dedicated.

They Call Me...

They call me Mrs. Ripp and I look around for my mother-in-law, oh wait, that's me now

They call me mom and I smile a little and then laugh with them when they apologize

They call me "hey you" when they are in a hurry

Or "dude..." when they are steaming from their recess kickball game

They call me a force, whether good or bad, but always believing

They call me honest, to your face and very, very direct

They call me early-riser because I love coming to my classroom

They call me a believer because that is what I do

They call me passionate

They call me a difference maker

They call me a changer

Because I am a teacher

I am the Reform

I am the reform when I trust other teachers.

I am the reform when I stand united, and not divided.

I am the reform when I discuss, assess, and learn with my students.

I am the reform when I trust in others.

I am the reform when I ask for observation, feedback, and growth opportunities.

I am the reform when I discuss, even with people with whom I disagree.

I am the reform when I reflect, reject and reinvent.

I am the reform when I ask for help.

I am the reform when I learn more.

I am the reform when I am not afraid.

I am the reform when I listen and I speak.

I am the reform when I believe.

Are you the reform?

Don't Be a Worthless Ball of Goo - Jeremy's Aha Moment



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)
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