Pernille Ripp's Blog, page 25

Small Disruptions in Text

I have been so incredibly inspired by the work of the women behind the #DisruptTexts movement.  This movement, started by a group of fearless educators: Tricia Ebarvia, Lorena Germán, Dr. Kimberly N. Parker, and Julia E. Torres, have been leaders within the work that is needed to disrupt the cannon and also help all of us change the work we do with texts in the classroom.

While I am lucky in the sense that I don’t have canonical texts I am forced to explore with my 7th graders, I have realized that habit and ease had gotten me stuck in certain texts, that sure, seemed to work for students, but didn’t do much for their exposure to other points of view, nor did it represent all of the lives of the students I teach.  Thus a mission for the year began – disrupt the texts I use with students, pay attention to my own selection process, and ultimately create a broader experience for all kids in order for them to have more critical exposure to many perspectives.

So what does that look like for me?  Well, it began with two questions; why am I selecting the texts that I am and how can I select others?  As I looked at my lists of short stories, read alouds, picture books,  and even book talks, I quickly saw a pattern.  While my own reading life is fairly inclusive, my academic usage was not.  The same texts were used year after year and many of them were predominantly created by white, cisgendered, heteronormative people.  Even though I had been trying to purposefully select more inclusive texts!  While there were units where the scope had broadened, there was still this dominance, a thread, of the same type of texts used and highlighted.

So for the past few months, I have spent a lot of time on text selection within a few areas.  By auditing my habits and my patterns, I found plenty of opportunities to disrupt my own “canon” and also help others find better texts.  Here are the areas that I have focused on:

Picture books.  Reading a picture book aloud is something sacred to us, and while I have a fairly inclusive picture book collection, I was not really keeping track of which I was choosing and sharing.  By having a visual representation of the picture books outside our room I am reminded to look for a broader scope and to include many different perspectives.  (To get ideas for great books to read or share, follow my Instagram where I do “live” recommendations as I discover books.)

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Read alouds.  I have always mostly selected our read alouds based on the merit of the story.  Is it a story that will elicit interest and conversation?  Will my students be changed after this read aloud?  And yet, I did not pay much attention to the author and the identity they represented.  Now, the two go hand-in-hand.  Questions I use to assess whether a book should be read aloud are many, but a few are:  How is this author’s identity represented within the text?  How is it different than what my students have already been exposed to?  How is the main character different than the last main character we got to know?

Book talks.  Once again, random selection was the way I did book talks.  Sometimes it was a book I had just finished, other times an old favorite.  This meant that I didn’t always remember which books I had book talked and surely did not pay attention to whose stories I was book talking.  Now, my system is twofold – I write down the books I plan on book talking and also keep a written poster in our classroom, which I fill in after a book talk.  While the poster will need to be replaced soon, it allows me to see the bigger picture of what I am blessing through book talks.  Just looking at it today, I realized that I had not book talked any books featuring characters from within the LGBTQ community, which is something I plan on rectifying.

[image error]Seeing this was a reminder to book talk more books by female authors, as well as authors from within the LGBTQ community.

Short stories and text excerpts.  This is where I needed the most disruption.  I had some great short stories that captured the interest of students, but most were by white authors.  I simply had not paid attention to this part of the selection process and had instead just grabbed stories others had recommended or stories that I knew.  And this is part of the problem I think for many of us; we recommend the same stories over and over, we remember the same stories being used and somehow they then receive more merit as legitimate texts than they really deserve.  Now, my selection is focused on the author’s identity, the main character’s identity, as well as whether the story fits our purpose.  By using fantastic short story collections such as Funny Girl,  (Don’t) Call Me Crazy, and Hope Nation, as well as first chapters from great #ownvoices books I am ensuring that my students are meeting new fantastic authors and stories that will hopefully not only better represent their own experiences and identity, but also the identities of others whom they may not know.

So what can you do if you want to start disrupting your text choices as well?  The first would be to follow the work the movement #DisruptTexts  and the women behind it do, but then also audit yourself.  What are you reading?  Book talking?  Sharing?  And using with your students?  Whose identities and experiences are being represented as the norm?  Whose voices are left out?

Read more inclusive texts and start a document to track texts you may potentially use with students and their purpose.  We have a shared mentor text document as a team where we can drop text in as we find them.  Create visuals that show you just what you are blessing and share and take the vow to do better, to notice your own patterns and change the texts you use.  While I still have a long way to go, I am already feeling better with the intentionality of the texts I am exploring with students, as well as the opportunities we still have to do better.

If you like what you read here, consider reading my newest book, Passionate Readers – The Art of Reaching and Engaging Every Child.  This book focuses on the five keys we can implement into any reading community to strengthen student reading experiences, even within the 45 minute English block.  If you are looking for solutions and ideas for how to re-engage all of your students consider reading my very first book  Passionate Learners – How to Engage and Empower Your Students.      Also, if you are wondering where I will be in the coming year or would like to have me speak, please see this page.

I Don’t Read

“I don’t read” has been a refrain heard loudly in our classroom for the last three weeks.  Several students have informed me that reading is not something they do.  Not something we can get them to do.  And they have been right.  For the past three weeks, these few kids have stood by their words, proven them to be true and we have pondered what the solution may be.

I bet those students are in your room as well.

So what have we done, when children loudly claim this identity of children who will not even pick up a book?  Who will not even open a book? Who will not even book shop?  Who will not even give it a try?

We start with what we have a lot of; patience.

I think of the kids who come to us declaring loudly how much they hate to read and how many negative reading experiences they must have had to get to that point.  How many times they must have felt defeated in the face of a book and now have found a way to protect themselves.  When you refuse it is much easier to not get hurt. When you refuse it is not to anger the teacher, but o shield yourself from more embarrassment, more harm, more hurt.  How every moment we do not force them to but instead offer them an opportunity for enticement is one more moment of negative counteracted by a moment of positive.  Of how we tread lightly, offering up multiple opportunities to read every single day, but never shaming, never demanding.

Instead treating their refusal as the gift that it is; a view into the minds of a child who feels like the act of reading is not something that is safe for them.

So we treat it with care.  With gentleness as we whisper our repeated question; how can we help?  And we offer them an array of enticing books, leave them at their fingertips and walk away.  Pop up books, picture books, graphic novels and other safe books placed within their reach with no judgment wrapped around them, but instead only an opportunity to try.

And we repeat that motion every day, reminding them that they should read but leaving it at that.  Pushing books toward them and holding ourselves back from rushing over there if they do, indeed pick one up to flip through the pages, instead allowing them time to sit in the moment with a book, and not a teacher that tells, “See, I told you they weren’t all bad.”

And we speak books with them.  Including them as a full-fledged reader in our classroom, sharing recommendations and not giving up despite their many shutdowns.  Despite their many refusals.  We invite them to book shop, to abandon books, to read books that matter to them even if they are not yet reading.  There is no punishment attached to not being a reader who reads actively in our room, why should there be?

And we repeat this every single day for as long as it takes.  And we smile, and we invite, and we try to help them feel safe.  To see reading as something that is not hurtful, but instead a moment of quiet in an otherwise overwhelming world of noise.

And every day as they declare that they do not read, we acknowledge their truth and then offer them a word of hope, “yet…they do not read yet.”  And that’s okay because we have a whole year to go.

If you like what you read here, consider reading my newest book, Passionate Readers – The Art of Reaching and Engaging Every Child.  This book focuses on the five keys we can implement into any reading community to strengthen student reading experiences, even within the 45 minute English block.  If you are looking for solutions and ideas for how to re-engage all of your students consider reading my very first book  Passionate Learners – How to Engage and Empower Your Students.      Also, if you are wondering where I will be in the coming year or would like to have me speak, please see this page.

 

 

On Death Threats and the Life I Lead…

Note:  There is offensive language in this post, not from me, but I wanted to warn you before you read it.

I was cooking dinner today when my phone went off.  Three new emails waited for me.  In between cooking dinner, catching up with my husband, and watching the kids have a water fight, I checked my email because I was waiting for an important one.

Two were comments on my blog, nothing unusual in that until I read them.  The first one said

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The next one said

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I showed my husband, Brandon, and tried to shrug it off.  After all, these aren’t the first vile comments I have received and they probably won’t be the last but he stopped me.  “What do you mean you have gotten comments like this before?  You haven’t told me that?!”

I guess in this day and age you just get used to it.  I see it happen all of the time, especially to women, and even more to women of color.  It seems to the price you pay to be public in a way, to being online.  Nestled in between all of the learning, the connections, and the book recommendations is your daily slice of hatred.   You have people who praise you, people who disagree with you, some in angry ways.  And then you have death threats against your family and yourself.

I blocked the commenter, deleted the comments after taking screenshots of everything. And yet, Brandon wouldn’t let it go.  “You should report it, just in case…” Sure it’s probably nothing, but still…And it was that “Just in case…” that made me do that very thing.

Because sure it is probably some kid somewhere having some fun.

Because sure it is probably some troll not caring who they wrote to or what they really said.

Because sure it is probably someone who just wanted to get a reaction and saw an easy way to do so.

But still, that small little thought is there; what if it’s not?

What if it’s not…

What if someone does want to hurt my children or me and I did nothing but shrug it off?

So I write this post to say it’s not okay.

It’s not okay for us to be a society where threats towards us and our families are so commonplace that we barely register when they happen.

Where language like what was posted to me is deleted rather than reported.

Where threats and the use of vulgar language are so common that we even hear people in power use them as if it is no big deal.

Where trolls and kids and whoever wants to hide behind their computers get to mess up your sense of security because who really cares how others feel, they were just joking anyway…

And because it happens so much we don’t even do anything about it.

It is a big deal.  And we have to remember that…

When kids say things in our classrooms that are not okay.

When people leave comments online that are not okay.

When those in power say things that are not okay.

We have to speak up, reclaim the conversations, and shift the power back.

So tonight, after I hung up with the police and they told me I did the right thing, while I didn’t feel much safer, I did feel right.  Like somehow me tracking that ISP.  Me documenting.  My writing and sharing let me reclaim a little piece of the power that someone tried to take away from me.  Because guess what?  I’m not done writing.

 

 

 

 

What’s In Our Reader’s Notebook

A frequent question I get while speaking to other educators is what does your reader’s notebook look like?  I usually don’t have a good answer because much like for many others it is a work in progress, every single year.  This year, however, it feels a little more solid as the year gets underway and we use the tools we have used previously with a few small tweaks added as we need them.

So what can you find in a student’s reader’s notebook this year?  In order, you will find…

Our To-Be-Read List

This is the very first page, hand-drawn by students, and used every single time we bookshop or have book talks.  Part of my check-in conferences means I peak at their to-be-read lists as well to say what they have on dock for their reading experiences.  All the list says is the title, author, and genre which just means where they can find the book. This is on page 1, 2, 3, and 4.

Our Who Are You as a Reader Quarter 1 Survey

This simple survey gets glued to page 5 as a way for me to see where they start the year as far as the relationship with reading.  As we re-take the survey throughout the year, the will be glued in after it (I screwed this up and did not leave pages for this so this year the rest will be glued in on the back pages).

Our Reading Challenge for the Year

On page 6 and 7 you will find our reading challenge documents as well as their personal reading goals for the year.  This is what we confer about for their first reading check-in.

Reading Rate Tracker

Inspired by Penny Kittle, we do a reading rate tracker once in a while to see how many pages a student should be reading every week or so if we ask them to read at least two hours outside of class.  This is glued in on page 8.  This helps us with the reading data we gather in class as students study their habits, set goals, and also increase their reading.

Books I have Finished

On page 9, we have another hand-written page simply titled “Books I have finished.”  This is where students write down any titles they finish.

Reading Response Pages

Then we have the rest of pages for reading response and anything else we need.  We did not want to tab out sections beforehand because we always get the section needs incorrect, which my smart colleague, Reidun reminded me of.  Instead, we plan on tabbing as we need to. I will say though that we do not write a lot of reading responses.  These are one of the top reasons students report hating to read, so we are very picky about when and what we have them write about to discuss their reading in their notebooks.

So there you have it.  Nothing too fancy, but it works for us for now.  We will add sections as we need them.

 

At the End of the First Week

There is nothing like the first week of school tired, it seems.  Well, perhaps it’s only contender is the first week with a new baby tired.  We drag ourselves home, hoping that dinner has somehow magically arrived, that our house is not a mess, that our own kids are doing well because honestly, all we can think of is when we will get to go to bed.

While I love the first week of school, I always seem to forget how exhausting it is.  How the excitement quickly morphs into an overwhelming sense of “there is so much to do…” How the only kids we can compare these new kids to are the ones we just had, and those kids had it all figured out…

So as I drove home yesterday, overwhelmed by this long list of what I needed to do this weekend in order to simply teach my 90 minutes on Monday, feeling like maybe I was not that great of a teacher after all, I remembered a few truths shared by others, experienced by me, every single year…

They don’t know us yet.

They don’t know our routines even if we have spent all week teaching them.

They don’t know our expectations and so they are trying to figure that out and sometimes we are not as crystal clear as we think we are.

They are just as overwhelmed at times as we are.  Starting school is a whole lot of new and for some, it is a whole lot of negative.  We might not see that yet, but that doesn’t mean the emotions aren’t there.

It’s okay to slow down.  Your best-laid plans were based on fictitious children and now that the real children are here, our job is to make our plans fit the kids, not the other way around.

You are not a bad teacher if you haven’t reached every kid yet.  If you are still forgetting names even though you just knew them.  If you thought the lesson would be amazing when you planned it and it turned out to be mediocre instead.  You are not a bad teacher even if you feel like one.

So last night, as my kids played and got their boundless energy out (where do they get it from?), I did a simple thing; sent notes of appreciation home.  As I looked at my class lists, I remembered once again all of the great moments we did have in class, all of the kind behaviors, the kids who tried, the kids who smiled, the kids who didn’t think my crazy ideas were totally stupid.

The times when it did click.  When it did work, rather than the times where I had to repeat, reteach, restate.

As I sent each note home, the excitement that had been hidden by exhaustion came back; the promise of an amazing year, the hopes that I have so carefully stoked all summer.  These kids are awesome, we are the lucky ones who get to teach them.

Perhaps, like me,  you need to be reminded as well?

I cannot wait for Monday.

 

The Rights of Our Readers

Today was the second day of school.  the second day of trying to get to know these incredible kids that have been gifted to us.  The second day of trying to establish the seeds for the habits that will carry us through the year, hopefully leading us to a year where they leave feeling like this year was worth their time, that this year made a difference.

Today was the day of one of our big fundamental lessons; when reading is trash or magic.  I shared my past reading mistakes in teaching, we shared when reading sucks or when it is lit (student choice of words).  As the post-its crowded the whiteboard, the questions and statements inevitable came.  Will we have to read books you choose for us?  Will we have to write every time we read?  Will we have to do post-it notes?  All things that in the past, I would have answered yes to but now the answers are different.  You always choose your books, even in book clubs, you will have plenty of choices.  You will not always write after you read, sometimes you will, and because of the work of teachers before me, you will be better at it than ever before.  And post-its?  Sometimes, when it makes sense, but not every time and not at home.  Only here because at home I just want you to work on your relationship with reading, the skills teaching that will happen in class.

As we finished our conversation we merged into what their reading rights are this year.  the things that I will not take away.  The rights they have as individuals on a reading journey.  This is not my idea, nor something new, but once again the work of others who have paved the way for my better understanding of what developing student reading identity really looks like.  As we discussed what rights they would have and what they meant, I wrote an anchor chart, a reminder that will hang all year so we don’t forget just what we can do together.  What choices we may have.  As we went down the list, the relief was palpable, the excitement grew.  Even some of the kids who had not so gently told me how much they hated reading right away, looked less scared, less set in stone as we talked about what this year would like.

And so this is where we stand tonight…  Our very first anchor chart to remind us of what it means to be a reader that is honored within our community.  What it means to be a reader that already has a reading identity, that we will continue to develop together, honoring everyone wherever they are on their journey, rather than forcing our well-intended decisions down over the top of kids.  Perhaps, once again, this year kids will develop a better relationship with reading, will grow as readers, will grow as human beings.  What more could we hope for when it comes to teaching?

If you like what you read here, consider reading my newest book, Passionate Readers – The Art of Reaching and Engaging Every Child.  This book focuses on the five keys we can implement into any reading community to strengthen student reading experiences, even within the 45 minute English block.  If you are looking for solutions and ideas for how to re-engage all of your students consider reading my very first book  Passionate Learners – How to Engage and Empower Your Students.      Also, if you are wondering where I will be in the coming year or would like to have me speak, please see this page.

That This Year…

Thea tells us that the only goal she has for fourth grade is to not be bullied.

She doesn’t care about learning how to read better.  How to strengthen her math skills.  How she will do more science, learn more geography, create more beautiful art.  How to do the work that fourth graders are supposed to do.

She cares about being safe.  About being liked.  About not sticking out so that “others will pick me on, Mom…” as she hides her new glasses and tells me she doesn’t really need them after all.

Her actions speak louder than her words right now.  One moment happy and carefree, the next riddled with doubt about what lies ahead.  The questions tumble from her, will I have a friend?  Will my teacher like me?  The uncovering of the hurts that were perpetuated against her continue.  They told me I was stupid.  They called me gay and I knew they meant it as a bad thing, Mom.  They told me no one liked me.  That I shouldn’t come back.  That school would be so much better without me.

And I hold back my tears and I put on my brave face, because damn it, what do you say to your kid when she would rather believe the awful lies her fellow students told her than the truth from her parents?

So we speak louder through our actions and our words than those kids could ever hope to do.  So we spend time simply being together, getting ready for the year ahead.  Telling her that this year will be better.  That this year will be different.  That she is awesome.  That she is funny.  That she is smart.  That this year she will find another friend.  That this year she will blow everyone away.  That this year she will feel safe.  That this year will not be like last year because how can it be?  And we try to piece back together what the kids who bullied her tore down so easily.

I think of her as I get ready for my own students to show up.  That while some may be dragging their feet simply because school is not fun, others may be downright terrified.  Others may lie awake at night wondering what this year will bring?  Whether this year they will continue to be picked on, picked apart, punched, pushed, and abused, all by those kids we tell to stop and “Be nice.”  Do they worry that we will not protect them?  That our nonchalance and our quick fixes will do nothing to actually change anything?

And what about their parents?  The ones raising them?  The ones who send them our way with the hope that we will see the very miracle they sent us?  Do they lie awake at night, like we do, wondering if the words we say will actually be true once the year gets started?

Thea has her first day of school outfit planned, aid out in her room, waiting for the moment next Tuesday when we wake her up, kiss and hug her and send her out the door with our love as her protection.  It took a long time to get it just right, what my seem small is now so large, because, who knows what will happen on the first day of school?

We hold our breath and expect the best.  After all, this is a new year, a new start, and for this kid it has to be.   So this is a reminder that it’s on us; the adults.  The parents, the caregivers, the educators, the staff.  That these kids are coming to school to feel safe.  To feel accepted.  To learn in an environment that will protect them no matter the child they are.    No child deserves to be terrified.  No child deserves to wonder whether this is the year, they will once again be bullied.

 

After Accelerated Reader

One of the questions, I am asked the most often is, “What do you do if you don’t have Accelerated Reader?” Or insert whatever computer program here.  It is a question filled with emotion, after all, change is hard, and for some kids, AR and programs like it seem to work.  For some teachers, it works.  And yet, it doesn’t work for all, it is expensive, and in my opinion, it is not worthy of the precious time we have with students every day.

Last night, as I sat surrounded by incredible passionate educators and leaders in the Imperial Valley in California, I was asked that question again, and here is how I answered it.

Giving up AR can be scary.  After all, it is a program that seems to tell us things we need to know; has this child read the book?  Have they understood it?  It is a program that allows us to chart progress, to reward growth.  To have an understanding of the complex process that is often hidden from view.  And yet, how much of AR is actually a true view?  How often are kids able to take the test without fully reading the book?  How often do they fail the test despite having read the book?  How often do we end up policing the testing, the book choice, the kids without actually doing meaningful work?

Our job as teachers is not to police reading, it is to support the love of reading.  There is a huge difference.

So we start by looking at the components already in place.  Every child deserves a classroom library, a school library staffed with a certified librarian.  Every child deserves a teacher who read children’s literature, who is knowledgeable and excited about reading.  Every child deserves time to read a self-selected book in a supportive reading environment.  Every child deserves to do meaningful work once they finish these books, building a reading community one book, one conversation, one connection at a time.

If we hold these components as rights, then the only thing AR really fulfills is the check off when it comes to whether a book has been read.  When we remove that, we must find other ways to see whether children are reading and whether they understand what they have read.

In my own classrooms, we have different methods to see whether kids are reading.  I have gone into more details about this here and also in Passionate Readers, but the first component is to simply kid watch.  How are they picking up books?  Are they picking up the same book day after day?  Are they making progress in the book?  We use Penny Kittle’s page tracker to help us see the page kids are on in class.  That way if a child is on the same page day after day, I know a conversation is waiting to happen.  Perhaps the book is boring, perhaps they don’t understand it, perhaps something is happening outside of class that is affecting them in class.  Either way, that small sheet of paper allows me to see if they are making progress.  I don’t need it as a reading log, I need it so that kids can take control over their own reading habits and see whether they are making true progress as they challenge themselves.  That way they have tangible data when we reflect at the end of every quarter.

We also set meaningful goals.  I recently wrote about what that looks like at the beginning of the year, but it is these goals that I discuss with kids.  While some may be quantity based, others are based on habit.  You may notice that so much of what we do is conversation based.  Not having a computer to tell me these things forces me to speak more to students, for them to actually reflect on their lives as readers, this is always a great thing.

When students finish a book, they often do what we adults do.  They recommend it.  They put it back on the shelf.  They hand it to someone to read it as well.  Sometimes they write about it in a reading response, but not often, because I have found that it is often all of the things we have kids do with their reading that actually makes them dislike reading.  This year, I will also have them do reading ladders, an idea created by Teri Lesene, explained here, so that students can ponder whether they are challenging themselves or simply reading at the same rung.  They also keep a list of books they have read, finished, or abandoned in their notebook and at any point, I can ask to see that.  This list is something we update in class so that the kids that forget also have a chance to do it.  For kids who are motivated by competition, I try to make it an internal one.   Can they beat last year’s numbers of books or some other goal?  I do not believe that reading should be rewarded with a prize because it tells kids that reading itself is not worthy of their time.  That it is something they are being bribed to do because it has no value on its own.  Reading is its own reward.

And finally, when it comes to the assessment of skills, I don’t need a test on a book to tell me whether they comprehend it.  I can either discuss the book with them even if I haven’t read it or I can use a common text, such as a short story, read aloud, or picture book to assess their skills of reading.  After all, all of the independent reading we do is for practice, for building the love, it is not to be graded, the skills we are developing are what we need to grade and that can happen with any text that we know together.

Getting rid of any component that has been a cornerstone of instruction is scary, it takes work, and it takes a change in practice.  But it is worth it for our students and the reading experiences they deserve.  I would recommend anyone who is looking to get rid of a computer program to really speak about the experiences that need to replace it.  How will that look on a day-to-day basis and also how it will help the students.

Teaching is hard work, it is easy to see how we can be persuaded to place children in front of computers to help us out.  To see the short-term gains sometimes from these programs.  And yet, what about the long-term?  At what point do children, and adults for that matter, need to internalize what reading really is?  A discovery of self?  A discovery of the world?  A transport into more understanding, more empathy, more imagination?  Removing AR is a process, but one that is worthy of our time, because kids deserve rich reading experiences at every level, and computers, no matter how well-tested their programs are, cannot provide the same meaningful interaction as we get from a conversation, real assessment, and building a community of readers.

To see more thoughts on AR please see Jen Robinson’s posts which showcase other work on it.  Donalyn Miller’s post on it and do take the time to read Stephen Krashen’s discussion of the research that AR uses as a selling point.

 

On Airplanes

I am hurtling through the air, clouds drifting by beneath me, blanketing the earth from view.  Confined to the seat I was given by a computer, on an airplane as I once again cross the country in order to teach other educators all that my students have taught me.

My seat is comfortable, for short periods of time, the ache in my back slowly making its presence known, reminding me that as I get older, my body carries the signs of frequent travel and confinement.  Of sitting in airplanes and plastic chairs, of hurriedly drinking my tea before I find the seat that has been given to me, that will dictate my next hours all in order to serve a greater purpose of bringing me to the destination I need to go to.

I am reminded of how it used to be a joy to get on a plane, excited for the journey ahead, and now it is mostly just ordinary, a means to an end, no longer covered in sparkles and foil, but just another day at the office.  How my mind has made it a quest for anything to be out of the ordinary just so that this very trip can be wrapped in something other than what I have come to expect; greetings from polite attendants, the same snack selection, perhaps a movie, nothing more, nothing less.

Much like the school experience many of our children have.  One that used to be wrapped up in excitement and possibility but now is immersed in tradition, in used to it’s, in more of the same, and the same expectations for all for the greater good.

I wonder why it has taken me so long to see the similarities between airplane travel and our schools?  Wedged in beside strangers that I may or may not connect with, told within the armrests what our area is, with hidden rules and expectations of what proper behavior is.  Knowing full well how rude it is to take up more space than what we are given. How rude it is to draw attention to ourselves through the food we eat, the scents we bring with us, the volume of our conversations.  How rude it is to be loud, to be seen, to be anything but quiet and nearly invisible in order for the greater good, the common purpose.

How the attendants start us all with the same speech, assuming that only a few are paying attention and yet they try to tell us how important it all is for our future as they vie for our attention while using hands-on manipulatives and humor.

How the seats we are given mirror the very experience our students have when we give them rights that are based on what they already have.  More wealth or status gives you a better seat, a better seat gives you better service, food, blankets, and careful attention.  Remove the privilege, remove the ease, as the rest of us regular folks can only sit and watch behind the mesh curtain, aware that we are not good enough, not properly attuned to sit up there where the air must surely be better because the food certainly is.

And I am confined, not just in my physical space, but also mentally.  I find it hard to concentrate on the tasks at hand, longing instead for the air to move, for the wiggle room to do something other than sitting here, even though I know that the quiet I have been given in this very moment should be seen as a gift.  A chance for me to take a moment and do whatever I want, but this is hard to do when all I want to do is not be confined.

I count down the minutes until the journey is over so that I may resume regular life.  Outside of these rules.  Outside of this space.

And so what do we do within this knowledge of what school may be seen like for some of our students?  How do we, within the rigid systems we claim are in place for the greater good, find space for all of our students to breathe freely, to break the boundaries of the space they are given and recover the sense that where we are going matters?  This is what I ponder as the attendant waits for us to push the button in case we need anything, as they do everything in their power to ensure we all have a pleasant and safe flight.  As they wrap us in infinite patience.  Feed us snacks to make sure our inner rumblings don’t become outer ones.  As they try to take us to a destination that we surely wanted to go to at some point.  But perhaps we just forgot.

If you like what you read here, consider reading my newest book, Passionate Readers – The Art of Reaching and Engaging Every Child.  This book focuses on the five keys we can implement into any reading community to strengthen student reading experiences, even within the 45 minute English block.  If you are looking for solutions and ideas for how to re-engage all of your students consider reading my very first book  Passionate Learners – How to Engage and Empower Your Students.      Also, if you are wondering where I will be in the coming year or would like to have me speak, please see this page.

 

 

 

The Sound of My Name

For the past thirty years, my own name has sounded foreign to me.  Mangled by tongues who mean well.  Pronounced quickly, with no melody, no cadence.  No history behind it.  No home.

My name, Pernille, a name that is so common in my home nation of Denmark that I had two others who shared my name just in my grade level, doesn’t flow well off of American tongues.  The “r” gets lost, the lightness of its letter blends, and with its changed weight so does the sense of familiarity that comes with being called something that your mother chose for you.

My name carries history.  It was the only name my biological parents agreed on, only because at the point of my birth my biological father had declared that he no longer wanted children and thus didn’t come to my birth.  He showed up the next day when his schedule allowed him to see this newborn baby that came during the snow.  My mother had already decided on Pernille, no discussion needed, six months later she left him.

When I was six, we moved to San Francisco, it was my first introduction to America.  We tried to have people pronounce it correctly, but no matter their attempts, it slowed them down, they had to think about it, it didn’t just roll off their tongues.  So it morphed into how it is pronounced now, Pur-neal, a mask I wear as an immigrated American.  A name that I respond to, but will never really fit.

I think of my name and the emotions that it carries as I reach the milestone of twenty years as an immigrant in this country.  Twenty years of living between two societies.  Twenty years of not feeling completely at home in either.  Of feeling homeless, rootless, despite the life filled with love that I get to have.  I never knew I would grow up to be an American and my name reminds me of that.  When I go home to Denmark, to those who knew me before, it is the sound of my name pronounced correctly that makes me feel like I belong.  It is the ease with which they pronounce it.  How they don’t tell me how they have never heard that name before.  How I am not asked to “Say it first.”  How they can spell it without hesitation.  How I don’t have to say “That’s okay” when somebody bungles it within their well-meaning intentions.

How it rolls off their tongues and embraces me to be who I am, rather than what I am supposed to be.

Pernille….Home….

As we look at our incoming students and the names that they carry, I feel the importance of the correct pronunciation.  How their names carry their history.  How their names carry the hopes that their parents grew as they blessed their new baby with a way to be known to the world.  How because I gave up on correcting people, I will forever be known as something that my mother didn’t intend.  How even when my husband tells me he loves me my name is not completely correct.  How my own children don’t know how to say it the right way because their American tongues get in the way.   And I chose to live with that.  Too late to make a difference now.

But for our students, they shouldn’t have to make that decision.  They should not be forced to give up, to be fine with their name not being pronounced correctly.  That they should see the care with which we hold their names, much like those who dreamt of the name intended.

I wish I could go back to tell six-year-old Pernille to speak up.  To continue to insist on the right pronunciation, on the right sounds, no matter how many failed attempts came before.  To fight for her right to be welcomed in the way she was intended to be.

Perhaps this Pernille, the one who has lived in America for more than twenty years, would not be reminded then every single time someone says her name just how much she doesn’t belong here.  How no matter what, America will never fully be home.  How even her name had to change to be a true part of this great nation.  Because it was simply easier to give up than fight.  That is what I learned when I was six years old.

PS:  To see how Pernille is meant to be pronounced, go here