Night Teacher Shares a Few Life Lessons on The Eclectic Woman Show
By WTJU
Date: 03/03/2026
Time: 1:00 pm - 1:30 pm
Lily Bechtel and Jordan Perry of local indie project, Night Teacher, will visit WTJU’s The Eclectic Woman Show to play a few tunes live in-studio, discuss their new album Year of the Snake, and talk about an upcoming album release concert at the Southern. Tune in The Eclectic Woman Show on 91.1 FM, or stream at wtju.net.
Year of the Snake was released in October of 2025 on First City Artists. The concert at The Southern Cafe and Music Hall takes place on March 7th, beginning at 8 p.m. Local singer-songwriter, Diane Cluck, will be opening.
Bechtel, the songwriter and vocalist behind Night Teacher, is an impassioned proponent of personal evolution. The title of her sophomore record, Year of the Snake, refers to the Chinese Zodiac of 2025—a time for transformation. The album is a glowing invitation to grow, an illumination of the animal motivations that compel us forward, and a reminder to hold grace and space for the process.
Night Teacher performed on WTJU Rock’s Third Rail in early 2025.
“I get a lot of comfort and clarity from remembering that humans are also animals,” Bechtel says. “The primary, oldest parts of our brains are far more concerned with safety and survival than we may realize, or be able to articulate.” She’s focused on how those ancestral mechanisms manifest in the body. By attending to what she calls the “subterranean, preverbal, somatic intelligence whispering to us all the time,” Bechtel creates a space for healing that doesn’t require one’s pain to pass through verbality, and has done so in women’s correctional facilities, veterans hospitals, rehabs, nursing homes, and Kindergarten classrooms. “It’s not always possible to make sense of trauma with language. But you don’t have to put words to your story in order to feel seen, or held, or safe.” She’s speaking from personal experience.
The songs of Night Teacher arrive like notes slipped under the door or winks across the table, little hints of solidarity that acknowledge a struggle, without demanding explanation or solution. “Healing doesn’t have to be linear,” says Bechtel. “It’s usually not.” The moniker nods to her preferred professional setting—evening hours, dim light, cushions on floors—but more poignantly, to the nature of the lesson. Trauma hides inside us, under the dark covers of confusion, distraction, discomfort. But as Bechtel puts it, “Pain can be a teacher. It can have some really important things to tell you—if you’re willing to listen.”
