Teacher — Sage
When I was a girl and played pretend, I would round up my younger brother and cast him in the role of student so I could disseminate my wisdom from the books I had read and the lesson plans I had made. As my memory recalls, he didn’t have the most abiding attention span, but when we played “school,” that was different. He willingly sat and listened to me go on and on, accepted my handouts, and the the homework, which I would check and give him a grade.
The little town of 600 I grew up in didn’t produce professors, yet I somehow became one. I did this work for twenty years until it didn’t make sense to do it anymore.
Because the teacher in me won’t let me be, I now work with private clients and workshop participants, sharing my knowledge of writing, much of which is embedded in my Conjuring Clarity and Writing Through the Body courses.
Am I full of myself to consider myself a sage? Nah. At this stage in my life… all that I’ve endured… all that I’ve learned. I’ve earned that title. And then some. Crone works, too.
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