When I was really little, I didn’t think forward, which I think was a product of trauma. My father’s best friend was head of one of the major publishers of music theater scores, and we had house seats to any show we wanted. And so I fell in love with the theater really early on — I don’t even remember when it began.

And somewhere along the line, at a kind of weirdly early age, I knew that I wanted to teach acting. I didn’t really have any notion of anything else I could or would do. I still feel that way.

I left home when I was thirteen because it was a trauma-inducing environment. I went to live with a half-brother in California. My high school drama teacher saw talent in me but also saw me. I got excellent training and performance time.

And then I went to Wesleyan and majored in theater, but I knew that I wanted to teach and they let me do it. Weirdly enough. I taught two acting classes when I was an undergraduate at Wesleyan. Looking back it just boggles my mind.

Then I got kind of derailed, because I was living with a guy who had a boat, and we started sailing to the Caribbean and having a very neurotic, wonderful and awful relationship for six years. And when I finally kind of pulled myself out of that, I sold real estate and a few years into that I met my husband and I said, “I want to go to graduate school, and do what I intended to do all along.” I went to Emerson and then I started teaching.

The process of helping someone go within and find truth and story and connection through the work is really exhilarating. And I have a lot of respect for the courage it takes.

When I was young and acting, very few roles that I did didn’t challenge a place in myself that was really tender. When it’s good, it usually comes from a place of vulnerability of some kind. I hope that I bring compassion and empathy to people.

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