My name is not important. You will find out about me along the way – as long as you stick around. All you need to know now is that I’m a “feducator”; that’s short for fraudulent educator, fucking over it educator, or finding a way out educator. I have been teaching for the last 10 years of my life and I am over it.
The course for the new pathway calling out to me is an echo left behind by my mother. I would watch her sit in front of her computer after a long week of work with a cigarette in hand, a glass of red wine, and deafening silence. There she wrote her poetry. Not for notoriety, and not for money (at first), but because she needed to. I now feel what compelled her deep in my bones. When she passed, I started to feel the urge.
Her writings sit on my bookshelves and hang on the walls in my home. They move me and I can hear her each time I read her words. I too am a writer and I will embrace that in this space. This is me and that’s why I’m here. She’s why I’m here.