From Teacher to… Something Other Than a Teacher

And we’re back.

When I decided to change careers (read about that on my old blog), I gave myself permission to take about a month off to just relax, eat blocks of cheese the size of car batteries, and adjust to the whole upending of my identity thing. After fourteen years of positioning myself to teach until they pried the purple Pentel from my cold, dead hands, I needed a little time to molt. 

And really, other than still having a closet full of cardigans and vaguely orthopedic-looking work shoes, I think I’m doing pretty well with it. It’s pushing me out of my comfort zone, to say the least.

I have learned that to be a professional writer, you must have an online presence. And this must consist of plastering your name over every undecorated inch of the interwebs.

The idea of setting up a website bearing my own name was mildly terrifying, not because I fear disrepute, but because my former profession required me to be DEEPLY uncomfortable with self-promotion. As a teacher, if you’re even just the slightest bit comfortable hocking your wares, you’re either one of eight edu-celebrities on Twitter or you’re finding a profession that doesn’t pay you in Starbucks gift cards.

I was not one of those people.

I’m still not sure I can say I am comfortable asking people to like my page, or even advertise myself as someone who can do something—logging in to Linked In still gives me hives—but I mean I did MAKE a page at least. And I did muster the courage to call tech support when my gross digital incompetence crashed it for a couple of hours this morning. So if I’m not basking in personal branding, I’m at least standing underneath it wearing a collection of UPF garments.

I have also felt icky and weird talking to people about paying me to write things, because a primary draw of teaching for me was the no-hassle-no-haggle collective bargaining agreement, but you know what? I TALKED TO THEM ANYWAY. And you know what I discovered about myself? I AM NOT GOOD AT IT.

But I did it.

I’m still not one hundred percent clear as to why I have been called to make this change or how it might offer something of any value to the world, but I do see a metric oodle of personal growth already. And that’s just from a couple of weeks of eating Gruyére and scootching my hat into the writers’ ring. So, if all this ever yields me is a bit more balance between martyrdom and narccicisism, hey. Saves me some money in therapy.

Stay tuned! I’ll post on Fridays!