I mean it’s one thing to imagine someone harboring ill sentiments towards your child. But to actually hear those thoughts expressed with such clarity and vehemence?
I was a teacher who was encouraged to ignore violence, disability, mental illness, neglect. I wouldn't.
Mr. Miller didn’t like me. I’d raise my hand and he’d roll his eyes. I’d write out homework on the board and he heckled me in a way only the 12-year-olds in the room could appreciate.

Jan 8, 2013 at 11:30am | 257 comments

All we needed was my dad’s permission and a bunch of paperwork, and I could be on his health insurance, live with him senior year, and most importantly, cut down on or completely eliminate contact with my dad.
it just seemed like I had a schoolgirl crush, until I found myself drunk in his house, wondering what would happen if his wife came home early,
"Fat” was the third or fourth word I learned in Chinese, somewhere after “hello,” “thank you” and “I don’t understand.”
Three days into my very first job as a preschool teacher, I found myself huddled by a park bench near where I worked, crying my eyes out.

Jun 23, 2014 at 3:00pm | 117 comments

My biggest sense of dread occurs when I am in the position of sharing what I do for a living.
One hot-shot yoga dude thinks it's, like, totally fine, but others aren't so sure.
I was placed in Special Ed, because that’s what people do with you when they can’t figure you out.
Apparently I thought if I just called myself a Yoga Teacher, I would magically turn into one of the mystical, superior creatures who I worshipped from afar during my years as a practicing student.
When I was 15, I dropped out of high school. That time is a blur of sadness, of prayers for change, for mercy from a God I thought was punishing me for something I did not understand.
It was like the clouds parted and delivered directly to me my own personal dykey softball coach angel to help guide my misguided ass through all the pain and confusion and awfulness of being young and gay.
As a kid, I wouldn’t have DARED to ever speak to an adult that way. Except for that one time.
My sister was crying. She wanted him to take us to the pool. Like mommy did. He couldn’t explain to his daughters that he didn’t know how to swim.
gay rights
Several years ago, Mr. McCaffery left my elementary school to start working at a daycare in Ashland, Kentucky. Last year, he was harassed at work and eventually fired for being gay.

Mar 4, 2013 at 11:30am | 47 comments

ihtm contest
I was single and not unattractive, so I kept my long red hair in a permanent bun with a sharp pencil stuck in the side. I never wore makeup and purchased a realistic wedding ring.
We high school teachers are often short on cash, and sometimes, to supplement our income, we volunteer to do things we hate.
ask laia
The whole thing immediately gave me flashbacks to one "Dangerous Minds," the most epic movie about kids that are crazy and teachers who are boss
What happens to "bad teachers?" After the New York Post made my sex work past front-page news, I spent 30 weeks finding out.