adding ginger to your sass

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One Year

Last year at this time, a lot of things happened.

Exactly one year ago today, I interviewed for an eleventh grade teaching position before I flew out to Chicago for BlogHer13. I received a phone call a few hours after my interview saying I had gotten the position.


This was a look of FEAR before I was a late-night model.

I then flew to Chicago for my second BlogHer experience, where I conquered my stage fright and was a model in a fashion show. It was a terrifyingly amazing experience, and I’m proud to say I rocked the check out of my Jersey girl look. I also felt like a rock star when some big-time bloggers I admire complimented me afterwards.


I’m deeply saddened that I’m not at BlogHer in San Jose this year, and that I most likely won’t be attending next year, unless it’s back in NYC, as I’ll be in wedding crunch mode. BlogHer is a conference filled with people I wouldn’t normally interact with, lots of estrogen, and, above all, a support system like you wouldn’t believe. I’ve never really found a niche as a blogger, and there really isn’t a specific place for an awkward, weird Jersey girl lesbian teacher blogger at a blogging conference, but there are a lot of places to branch out and connect with others, others that wouldn’t necessarily have ended up in my circle of friends otherwise.

For these connections, I’ll always be grateful to BlogHer. Have fun, my friends.


Today some of my students started Googling me in class… and discovered my modeling career. By modeling career I mean 35 seconds of not tripping on a runway in front of hundreds upon hundreds of women at one of the best blogging conferences I know.

I had a momentary silent freak out, and then I remembered that, as a blogger, I have made the choice to let my voice be heard. In class, I value the honest relationship I have with my students. Despite my slight bit of unease to know my students have seen me in a ton of makeup walking on a runway, my momentary anxiety was fueled by my blog being attached to my “runway show.” Then I remembered the mantra I’ve had since I’ve been blogging: if I’m posting something I wouldn’t want my students to see then I probably shouldn’t be posting it anyway. This mantra has made me a better blogger, much like the experience of being a model in the BlogHer13 Fashion Show helped me become more confident and unafraid to embrace who I am.

Do your homework, kiddos. Seriously.

Do your homework, kiddos. Seriously.

So, although I say this with a bit of unease, welcome to my life, silently lurking students. Yes, your English teacher was in a fashion show this past summer. Yes, your English teacher is a blogger. Yes, your English teacher has a life outside of school.

Welcome to reality, my dears. Now go do your homework.


Prompt: Write a list poem starting with “I am…”

I am... unsure of why anyone would interview me as I was trying desperately to figure out how to save my iphone from imminent doom.

I am… unsure of why anyone would interview me as I was trying desperately to figure out how to save my iphone from imminent doom.

I am…

unable to think of a fitting description of myself for this poetic prompt.

I could write about my teacher identity,
but that’s already been the accidental focus of my poetry lately.

Perhaps I could write about my declaration of fiery, ginger glory,
but I am only minimally defined by my hair color.

It is possible to write about my lesbian poet label,
but, really, anything I write falls under that category by default.

Mayhaps you would like to learn of the summer in high school
where a friend and I only spoke in British slang. We were the dog’s bollocks.

Ooh! I’d like to tell you how I’m convinced my dog is a drag queen,
but one simple search of “Max the Dog” confirms that.

My caffeine addiction would make an interesting topic,
but a post about “addiction” would lead to unwanted spam in my inbox.

If you’d like to learn something fascinating,
we could discuss my one-night-gig as a fashion model from Jersey.

I should probably write something insightful,
something that has changed me for the better…or worse…

I know! You’d really like to know about my phobia
of flapping pigeons at night…?

Alas, perhaps it is best if we smile politely
and pretend this prompt didn’t happen.

After all, I really don’t know how to define myself in this hodge-podge of tidbits floating around in my head.
Do you?