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Throwback Thursday: Barefoot in the Faculty Lounge

The college semester is starting up again although I lucked out with an extra week of prep time thanks to Martin Luther King Day.  Here’s a throwback post for all of my professorial friends (of both the adjunct and non-adjunct variety). In my infinite wisdom, I decided to wear my (fake) snakeskin peep toe stilettos…

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There’s No Such Thing as Race

As a professor of cultural anthropology, I’ve grown accustomed to my white students blaming their black classmates for their own failure to qualify for financial aid. Along these same lines, it saddens but never surprises me when they refer to the continent of Africa as a country. I’ve finally come to accept that for my…

CALIFORNICATION (Season 3)

The Pretty Hair Professor

As a freshman in college, I managed to talk my way into an upper level art history course taught by a visiting professor from Johns Hopkins University. He was gorgeous. Everyone thought so. I know this because I volunteered to collect the student evaluations at the end of the term and most of them said…

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How to Bedazzle Tap Shoes

I have a new system. A new how-to-avoid-murdering-my-loan-officer system to be precise. (This morning I received an email requesting an “explanation of the non-employment deposit of $633.15” made into my bank account on April 8th. Non employment? Really? When a deposit of the same exact amount shows up every two weeks? My first thought was…

Shoe-photo

Barefoot in the Faculty Lounge

In my infinite wisdom, I decided to wear my (fake) snakeskin peep toe stilettos this morning. Why? Well, I was teaching my first summer class of the semester. And my experience with summer semesters is that the students don’t really want to be there, even less so than regular-semester students. As such, I decided to…

Tap Class

The New Normal

I was just locking the studio, holding my travel mug and keys in one hand and my dance bag and box drum in the other, when the fifth grader teacher to whom I’d just said goodbye was back with her thirty charges in tow. “I need to talk to you, Miss Kat,” she called across…

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(The) GREs (Are) for Dummies

In 2007, I went to a Jewish friend’s tree-trimming party, got slightly drunk, came home, slept for a few hours and took the GREs the next morning.  (For those of your reading from across the pond, GRE stands for Graduate Record Exam, the bane of my existence and the existence of all academically inclined 20-somethings…