The stories behind the work
More than a résumé.
A way of living.
Job titles tell you where I've served. These are the things that explain how and why I do the work.
Teaching · belonging · trust
Once My Kid, Always My Kid
I have always called my students my kids, and that doesn't change when they leave my classroom. They come back for academic help, advice, or a place to vent when life feels like too much. Sometimes they bring the latest hot gossip. Naturally, I'm all ears.
Those visits remind me that teaching is about far more than delivering curriculum. It is about building the kind of trust that outlasts an assignment, a grade, or a school year.
I've also taken on homebound instruction for a student who couldn't attend school in person, and I'm preparing to do so again. Neither commitment came from having extra time. It came from knowing that a student needed continuity, encouragement, and somebody in their corner.
They were my kids. They needed me. And showing up mattered.
What I carry with me
Sometimes the Greatest Impact Comes in an Envelope
I carry a handwritten letter from a former student in my wallet. On difficult days, I take it out and read it again.
It isn't a list of accomplishments or a thank-you for a particular lesson. It reminds me that a young person felt seen and began to find confidence and self-worth. I keep it because the most important moments in teaching are often the ones no assessment can measure.
We may not know, in the moment, which conversation will stay with someone. We can choose to make every conversation one that treats them with dignity, care, and possibility.
You teach the subject. You care about the person.
Advocacy · action · shared power
An Accomplice, Not Just an Ally
I don't want to be the person who simply says, “I support you,” then watches from the sidelines. I want to roll up my sleeves and get in the work alongside the people whose voices and rights are at stake.
Sometimes that means organizing a campaign, asking a difficult question, listening when someone is hesitant to speak, or coaching a new leader through their first big step. It means using whatever experience or influence I have to help make room for someone else's.
My own hard-won experiences shaped my empathy. But empathy, by itself, isn't enough. If we can change something for the better, I believe we should try.
Show up. Speak up. Roll up your sleeves. Create ripples.
Compassion · rescue · everyday choices
Living What I Believe
Every animal in my home is a rescue. Chihuahuas have a special place in my heart, but the point isn't the breed. It's the belief that vulnerable lives deserve care, patience, and someone willing to act.
I've fostered and transported rescue animals, coordinated regional rescue operations, and served in nonprofit leadership. And I've loved watching those choices ripple outward: people close to me have welcomed rescue animals into their own homes, too.
I'm a mom, a writer, and a creative, list-making person who cares about the details. My experience raising my son independently taught me resilience and resourcefulness, but I prefer to keep his personal story his own.
Even small decisions—like choosing cruelty-free beauty products—are ways I try to live the values I talk about.
Don't just talk the talk. Walk the walk. Live the life.
Leadership · facilitation · people first
What I Hope People Feel After Working With Me
In a classroom, a training room, or a union meeting, I want people to feel that their experiences count and their voices matter. That includes the people who jump into every conversation and the people who need time before they trust the room.
I believe delivery matters. You can have the right information and still lose someone if you make them feel small along the way. The goal isn't merely to tell people what to do. It's to help them develop the confidence, tools, and relationships to act for themselves—and then help someone else do the same.
Give me meaningful work, thoughtful colleagues, a great question, and a chance to make a useful (preferably beautiful) handout, and I'm in my element. And yes, humor is welcome. Serious work doesn't have to feel joyless.
