If you don’t know what this title means, well then, by all means, read on and think of this as a mini-lesson in The History of Blogging 101.  If you do happen to know what the title means, well, then just humor me and read on anyway and learn my story of being Dooced. (Feel free to skim the stuff you know!)

I have mentioned before that I first got interested in the Blogosphere when my friend Redhead started blogging to chronicle her venture into motherhood. Through her blog, I found more mommy blogs I liked and started reading some on a regular basis, as I was about to enter motherhood myself.  As someone who likes to dabble in the written word from time to time, I decided to start my own blog after my daughter was born.

I read and I learned about motherhood and parenting. And I also learned about blogging. Besides finding some fabulous writers in the Blogosphere, I learned that some people actually make money with their blogs. Some bloggers get free stuff to review and give away, and some even get book deals. Naturally, I got some pie in the sky dreams about where my blog could take me.

Still, amazing at it seems, despite my travels around the Blogoshpere, I had never heard of Dooce. Maybe I had come across a reference or two, but only in the last few weeks did I really start to learn about and read Dooce.

Who or what is Dooce, you ask? Dooce has a blog, of course. But that is kind of like saying Oprah? Oh, she has a talk show. Dooce is really a woman named Heather Armstrong who is known as Dooce because that’s what her blog is called (www.dooce.com) It’s a blog with thousands of readers. A DAY. It does so well that both she and her husband now work full time at running the blog. It’s their family business. She even now has some gig on HGTV. And she got invited to the White House. THE WHITE HOUSE.

Anyway, I’m not here to gush or promote, and I’m not going to say that much more about it or her because you can go visit her blog and read up if you’d like. I’ll just say that she’s funny and smart, and once upon a time, before Dooce was an Internet phenomenon, she got fired because of her blog. Which is what brings me to the title of this post.

Apparently she used to have a job as a graphic artist, and she also had a blog. On her blog, she bitched about her job and/or her boss and/or her co-workers. Eventually, her boss found out, and she was fired. But I guess the last laugh is hers, as (partly) because of her firing, her blog’s popularity and readership soared, so much so that the word Dooced made it into the Urban Dictionary which shows the following entry:

1. To be fired from your job from talking about it on your blog.

I was dooced yesterday because some scumbag sent my boss the link to my blog. (Not my words here– I had to add this sample sentence from the entry– and my friends who know more of the story will know why )

I don’t know whether to feel honored that I have something in common with Dooce, or to regret that I didn’t find her blog before I wrote the post that got me fired, as I just may have heeded her advice about writing about your job on the Internet. In her bio, she wisely cautions, “BE YE NOT SO STUPID.”

Too little, too late, my blogging goddess.

Well, unlike Dooce, I didn’t bitch about my boss or coworkers, but I did vent on bad days and question my path in life, specifically my career choice as a teacher. Students and then parents found out about my blog (because I was stupid enough work on it during class sometimes when my students were working on their writing) and apparently teachers should learn to never question whether they are in the right profession in a public forum.

I got called into the principal’s office one Friday afternoon and was essentially fired. (Well, I was allowed to finish the school year if I so chose, which I did.) I was humiliated. I was blindsided. It was the first I learned that anyone from school (besides a few close friends) even knew about my blog. I was embarrassed beyond belief. I had never been fired from a job before, and it took me two days before I could even tell my husband what had happened.

I think I re-read every post I had written to see exactly how far between my legs I should put my tail. To my surprise, I really found very little that I was embarrassed that my students or anyone else in the world knew from the open sharing of my life on the Internet. Of course, there were certain thoughts I wish my students had not been privy to (they really did not need to know my tales of breastfeeding) but for the most part, I was okay with what I had written. Though it did change me as a writer, particularly a blog writer, and it led me to write this post.

I did a lot of soul searching after that day. I think I went through various stages of grief—shock, denial, anger—and now I like to think I have reached acceptance. Can I call it acceptance if it still leaves a bitter taste in my mouth and I still believe I was wronged?

As I wrote in a letter to my principal:

“…only two [blog posts] discussed my struggle with my career choice.  A mere handful of others make very brief references to school-related things, but I never mentioned the school by name or wrote anything negative about the school itself or any coworker.  My venting had to do with teaching as a career choice mainly, and not the school.  I can certainly understand why this would be upsetting to a parent, but I am quite sure that I am not the first teacher to experience these feelings.  I have never let those feelings get in the way of my job performance.  I care very much about the students, the school, and the job that I do, and it is precisely that fact that made those feelings so burdensome to me thus causing me to write about it. “

The letter went on to say that I fully deserved a reprimand of some type, but not to be terminated. I felt I deserved a little more after giving so much time and effort to the place I had worked at for nine years. But I was taking it all as a sign it was a time to go.

Please don’t get me wrong. What I did was not okay. I never took my job as a teacher lightly or treated it as “just a paycheck.” In fact, quite the opposite. I think it is one of the most important jobs there is. There are people that feel a calling for it. I was not one of those people. I did my best to be a good teacher and to give the best of what I had to offer to my students. Even in my doubt, I was dedicated to professional development because if was a teacher, dammit, I was going to be a good one! But I think the perfectionist in me never felt I was good enough. I have talents. I have skills. But I wondered and worried if I was indeed making the best use of them. When I posted my wondering and worrying on the Internet, well, I got Dooced.

I’m not trying to make light of the situation. I’m only trying to make peace with the situation. I don’t even know why I feel the need to write this post and get the whole story out there. I am probably even belaboring the point because I’ve written other posts that mention or allude to this event in my life. But for some reason, I do need to write about it because it affected me so deeply.

Maybe I’m hoping putting it out there will make it not so shameful to me. I was ashamed I got fired. I was ashamed I let my students down. I was ashamed I did not have the courage to take such bold steps to leave a job I wasn’t happy in on my own terms.

Or maybe just recently finding out about Dooce, who is funny as hell, helps me to laugh at the situation and myself just a little bit.

So I want to put this topic to bed, now, while I’m smiling.

Good things did come out of it. It served as the catalyst to finally move back to New Jersey where the rest of my family lives.  It served as the catalyst to finally seriously explore new career options. Both of those things are still a work in progress. As am I.

Now if only being Dooced did for me what it did for her, I’d be set.