Rolling Rugs, ChatGPT Birds, and Witches: Reflections on Teaching, Connection, and Curiosity

Book signing at my local Barnes & Noble

Last weekend, I had one of those moments that remind you why you do the work you do. At my book signing, a student from twenty years ago showed up and said, “Remember me?”

As if I could forget. She was the stubborn student who hated English class so much she once pretended to fall asleep on the reading rug right in the middle of the room. Instead of fussing at her, I did what any good teacher (or perhaps any slightly odd teacher) might do: I rolled her up in the rug and carried her into the hallway. She laughed, I laughed, and then I wondered if maybe rolling students up in rugs wasn’t actually in the teacher handbook.

On Saturday, she and another former student from a completely different era of my teaching life drove three hours just to say hi and get a book signed. People can call me weird. They can side-eye my research interests or think my courses are strange. But what endures, what carries through decades, is connection. For me and my students, that connection just happens to come through dark and spooky things.

ChatGPT created image

That theme carried through the rest of my weekend. I spent this morning leading a session on how students can use AI tools responsibly, not as a shortcut but as a partner in their learning journey. We explored how ChatGPT, Grammarly, and other tools can support paper writing, study prep, and presentations while still building critical thinking skills. One highlight was comparing ChatGPT with the chat feature in Office 365. The results were both eye-opening and hilarious: Office 365 gave us slick visuals, while ChatGPT managed to spell “Edgar Allan Poe” correctly—partial credit!—but decided that the bird in The Raven was called a “Thaven.” It was a perfect reminder that AI is powerful and quirky, but the human brain is still the best fact-checker. The takeaway? Use AI to enhance your work, not replace your creativity. Bring your curiosity, and let AI be a tool, not a crutch.

After, I attended "Sylvia Plath and the American Witch-Hunts" with Dorka Tamas, hosted by Romancing the Gothic. It was a rich discussion of how Plath used witches in her poetry as figures of power, persecution, and resistance, shaped by both history and the cultural climate of McCarthyism. We explored four of Plath’s poems: "The Times Are Tidy," "Witch Burning," "Lady Lazarus," and "Fever 103". Each poem revealed how Plath used the witch figure to grapple with politics, gender, myth, and survival. Dorka reminded us that these witches are not just rebels or victims; they are complex, layered, and alive with meaning.

Now I'm just sitting out on my porch thinking about my teaching and learning, how it is really just one long experiment in connection. You never know which moments will matter. You never know which odd, small, or unconventional things will roll back into your life twenty years later. But when they do, they remind you why you teach, why you write, and why you keep showing up. That’s the magic.

Book signing at Barnes & Noble (Creeks at Virginia Centre) 1-3pm

This Saturday, I’ll be doing a book signing at Barnes & Noble for my new book, Haunted Virginia Cemeteries, and kicking off the spooky season with a celebration of stories and shared passions. 🎃📚

I know how these events go. Some people will ask me where the bathroom is, or what books I recommend, assuming I work at the store. Others will avoid eye contact because they don’t want to feel pressured into buying a copy. And that’s okay, I’ve been teaching English for 25 years, and I’m prepared for all of it. I can recommend books and I know where the bathroom is. And people avoiding eye contact, not a problem at all.

For me, book events are about connecting with like-minded people, sharing enthusiasm for books, and engaging in conversations that remind us why we love stories in the first place.

If you’re around, stop by! Let’s talk books, writing, and maybe even a little bit of spooky season magic.

World Frankenstein Day 2025

This year, for World Frankenstein Day, I wanted to do more than just acknowledge Mary Shelley’s novel. I decided to live with it for a little while, to let it shape my meals, my activities, and even my evening drink.

Leading up to the day, I reread Frankenstein; or, the Modern Prometheus to get lost in the voice of the book again. I have the W. W. Norton edition of Mary Shelley's Frankenstein, which presents the 1818 text of the novel. 

The night before, I watched the 2015 Frankenstein movie, a modern-day retelling set in Los Angeles and told from the perspective of the Monster. It struck me how difficult it must be to capture the feeling of the novel on screen. The book is sprawling and layered in a way that films can’t quite manage. They get close sometimes but there’s always something missing.

In the morning I made myself a deconstructed shepherd’s breakfast, inspired by what the creature ate when he first learned to survive. Bread, cheese, and milk were his staples. I kept it vegetarian and arranged it with a bit of humor. Pesto toast with spinach became my base, two cooked eggs with olives for pupils stood in for his “dull yellow eye,” Morningstar facon gave him hair, and tomato lips rested on a slice of Brie with a garlic nose. A potato was foraged from the pantry because it needed to be eaten. When I sliced into it I found a spot that had to be cut out and it left me with a heart shape. It felt accidental and perfect.

Mary Shelley, Percy Shelley, and Lord Byron were vegetarians back then, though they called it a natural diet. I thought a lot about how the creature’s vegetarianism symbolized his inherent goodness. It made sense that my breakfast, with its playful monster face and its potato heart, would carry that meaning too.

I worked in the garden for a while in the afternoon. The creature’s sense of wonder at nature is one of the most touching parts of the book, so it felt right to dig in the dirt and be surrounded by green things.

Dinner was pesto pasta with tomatoes. I had planned to cook kale, since that was Mary Shelley’s favorite vegetable, but I was too tired to fuss with it and the pasta was simple and comforting.

To close the day I made a Frankenstein Cocktail. One ounce of dry vermouth, one ounce of gin (I used McQueen and the Violet Fog Ultraviolet Edition, hibiscus berry gin that added a strange botanical clarity), half an ounce of apricot brandy for sweetness, and half an ounce of Cointreau instead of triple sec. I garnished it with Rum Bada Bing cherries, red as a borrowed heart. I sipped it from my green Federal depression glass Rose of Sharon punch cup, which is made of uranium glass that glows faintly under UV light. It was a perfect vessel for the night.

I hoped the day would inspire some connection. I challenged other bloggers to take part in their own way, to make it feel like a secret society scattered across the map. We may have celebrated alone, just like the creature. But I knew you were out there.

I want to keep living with books in my head and heart, even as the world seems to drift further from reading. Storytelling takes different shapes now, but I miss the days of my English majors in Intro to Lit, when I overloaded classes just to gather more voices in the room. I loved teaching those beginnings, opening pages together, watching new readers catch fire. The world has changed, and I know I can’t go back, but part of me still holds on to that past, to the quiet magic of shared words.

If you blogged, please drop your post link in the comments so we can catch up on each other's days! 

World Frankenstein Day: An invitation to Gather through Blogging

Remember our old blog days, when we gave each other homework and set strange little challenges just to see what we’d do with them? When comment threads felt like hidden corridors where the real conversations lived? The Very Curious Dr. Z, I know you remember. In that spirit, I’m summoning the circle again.

The world has gone dark, and not in the delicious gothic way. I want connection, something real, something secret and shared even across the distance. So, here’s the triple dog dare: join me in celebrating World Frankenstein Day, on Saturday, August 30th, Mary Shelley’s birthday.

She gave us a tale of creation and rejection, a nameless creature both intelligent and unloved, wandering alone through storm and silence. He has always felt like a companion to me, misunderstood, but still alive with longing. Which is why my own celebration will be solitary.

"The monster was the best friend I ever had." - Boris Karloff

This year, my celebration will look a lot like my usual gothy routines, only charged with the spark of the occasion. I’ll be reading the Kolaj version of Frankenstein; or, the Modern Prometheus that features seventy-six illustrations by International Collage Artists. I'll write poetry under flickering black candles (or most likely the sun), verses stitched from loneliness and lightning. I’ll probably wander into a cemetery. And, I’ll mix myself a cocktail to toast Mary Shelley and her nameless creation.

Frankenstein Cocktail

• 1 ounce Dry Vermouth for smooth, herbaceous gloom

• 1 ounce Gin for sharp botanical clarity

• 1/2 ounce Apricot Brandy for sweetness in the shadows

• 1/2 ounce Triple Sec for citrus lightning

• Garnish with a cherry, red as a borrowed heart

Shaken, strained, and consumed like a pact.

I’m challenging you to take part in your own way. Read a passage from Frankenstein. Watch an old black-and-white horror film. Write something, stitch something, light a candle, pour a drink, summon the storm. Report back. Tell me how you kept the day.

Let’s make it feel like it used to: a secret society scattered across the map, bound together by shared ritual and words. On August 30th, I’ll be celebrating alone, just like the creature. But maybe, just maybe, we won’t be so alone if we do it together.

When you share your ritual, your poem, your candlelit toast, begin or end with these words, as though we are all whispering them into the same night:

“We are the children of Shelley, keepers of the storm. [Okay, I'm feeling a bit dramatic.] We gather though apart, stitched together by ink and shadow. On this night of Frankenstein, we honor the nameless and the misunderstood. Alone, yet not alone, we light the dark with words, with memory, with creation.”

Write it, speak it, or leave it hidden like a charm at the end of your message. Consider it our oath, our flicker of connection in the storm.

Church Hill Tunnel Commemoration Tour

 

Thursday, October 2 and Friday, October 3

October 2nd, 1925 in Richmond started like most other days, but it would go down leaving a permanent scar on the community’s mind and landscape.

We will mark 100 years since the collapse of the Church Hill Train Tunnel with a series of “give-what-you-wish” mini-tours. Tours will start at Richbrau Brewing Company and proceed to the west end of the tunnel, sharing the history of the tunnel and the urban legend of the Richmond Vampire that came in the decades that followed.

Tours will be 45-50 minutes, round-trip from Richbrau Brewing. The first tour will be at 6:30PM, with tours leaving every 20-30 minutes until 8:00PM, on both October 2nd and October 3rd. Tour availability is first come, first served. Space will be limited and we are not accepting reservations. Check in with the Haunts of Richmond table upon arrival to register.

Select merchandise will be available for sale, including books about the train tunnel collapse and the Richmond Vampire. Local author Sharon Pajka will be in attendance with her new book, Haunted Virginia Cemeteries, featuring Richmond’s Hollywood Cemetery and the Vampire legend.

A book signing, a cemetery tour under the full moon, and feeling grateful...

Moonrise over the James River, Hollywood Cemetery, Richmond, Virginia

There’s a popular perception about professors and summer. The story goes something like this: when classes end, we pack away our notes, grab a good book, and spend the next few months soaking up the sun, traveling, or enjoying leisurely mornings with endless cups of coffee.

While that might be true for some, my summer has looked very different. The weeks leading up to the fall semester have been some of my busiest and most rewarding. This summer I have spent my time working and as a volunteer where I connect with my community, and push creative projects forward, work that fuels both my writing and my teaching.

This past weekend was a perfect snapshot of my summer. On Saturday morning, I had a book signing at the Richmond Public Library. The turnout was incredible, and I was reminded once again that my best-selling venues happen to be two places steeped in history and meaning: the library and the cemetery. Both are spaces where stories are preserved, just in different ways.

After signing books, catching up with friends, and meeting new readers, I grabbed lunch with a friend before preparing for my evening Full Moon cemetery tour. This was no ordinary night. We gathered under the Sturgeon Moon in Aquarius, an air sign that speaks to communication, shared visions, and building bridges between past and future. I always try to start each Full Moon tour with a fresh perspective, and this time I even threw in a dad joke which, I must say, landed surprisingly well. It was a reel-y good joke!

We had around 65 attendees that night. Over the course of the three Full Moon tours I have led this summer, we have raised 2,875 dollars for the Friends of Hollywood Cemetery. That money goes directly toward preserving this historic site and ensuring that its stories and beauty remain for generations to come.

After the tour, a few new friends invited me out to a diner. I said yes. That is not my usual post-event routine since I am often home well before midnight, but this time I stayed out until 1 a.m. and it was worth every minute. The good conversations, laughter, and sense of connection cannot be scheduled into a calendar. Okay, it can, and I used to have a spontaneity sticker for my planner, but you know what I mean. 

On Sunday, I ventured into new territory with my first visit to the Oddities and Curiosities Expo. I had never attended before since taxidermy has never been my thing, as I like my goth a little less literal, but I am so glad I went. The creativity on display was inspiring, and I left with my hands full of art. 

Every tour I lead, every conversation I have, and every new experience I step into adds something to my toolkit as an educator. History comes alive when you have walked the ground where it happened. Storytelling deepens when you have stood under the moonlight sharing it with others. Creativity expands when you are open to unexpected inspiration.

For me, summer is not downtime. It is an investment in the work I will be doing all year long. When the semester begins, I will bring these experiences, stories, and renewed energy into my classroom. My students do not just get lectures, they get a richer and more connected view of the world because I have been out there engaging with it.

So yes, the sun is shining, and somewhere in a cemetery, there is a lounge chair with my name on it. For now, I am busy, and I would not have it any other way.

Painting ghosts in the cemetery

We started our day with an Almond Joy latte for Babushka and a Coco Loco for me from Rivers Edge Coffee. With warm cups in hand, we made our way to Overlook 3 at Hollywood Cemetery, with a perfect view, arguably the best, of the James River and the skyline of Richmond.

Lunch came courtesy of Sally Bell’s Kitchen. Babushka went with the Roast Beef & Swiss, while I opted for the Egg Salad Box Lunch, each complete with the perfect sides (potato salad, deviled eggs, and cheese wafers). We claimed a quiet spot near Palmer Chapel and let the day unfold.

Armed with paint-by-number kits featuring ghostly cemetery scenes (because of course we are going to paint ghosts in a cemetery), we settled in. The breeze was soft and the company was steady. Sometimes we talked, sometimes we let the cemetery do the talking.

There were mild grievances, such as Color #7 being questionable at best, and Colors #8 and #9 may have had identity crises, but even our complaints felt like part of the ritual. We spent the afternoon haunting the place, slowly bringing spectral forms to life with every careful brushstroke.

It was my book release day, and oddly, perfectly, it felt like my own kind of release too. A day painted with laughter, ghosts, and Babushkas just the way I needed.

Haunted Virginia Cemeteries: A Séance to the Past 8pm tonight (August 4, 2025)

Episode 243 - Haunted History: Exploring Virginia's Cemeteries with Sharon Pajka