Rachel Jayson’s Instagram tag says it all: “Queer. Dreadlocks, coffee, books, Fluevogs, violist.’’ Jayson, who is a high school music teacher in Lexington, breaks every stereotype of a sedate suburban educator.

With her bleached hair, tattoos, and stiletto shoes, she’s an expressive, outspoken, and talented musician who dresses outrageously in her own creations — think skirts made out of umbrellas and garbage bags. While she’s conductor of Lexington High School’s chamber orchestra, her own instrument of choice is the viola, which she considers quirky, like herself.

As a kid, Jayson, 32, knew exactly what she wanted to be when she grew up: a music teacher. She worked at a music store and played live gigs. While working on her master’s at the Boston Conservatory, her student teaching placement was at Lexington High School. When a job there opened up, she interviewed for it and asked, “I take up a lot of visual space: I wear a lot of colors, have a visible tattoo, bleached hair, dreadlocks, and crazy shoes. I’m not planning on changing any of this — will you have me as I am?’’ The answer, almost a decade ago, was: yes, do not change.

And even though Jayson plays viola in two art rock bands and satisfies her funky shoe addiction by working part-time at John Fluevog Shoes on Newbury Street, she’s amused that her students don’t seem to realize she has a life outside the classroom. “I have dozens of rock posters over my desk, many of them have my face on them, and yet kids are so surprised when they hear that I’m in a band. It’s hard for them to envision a teacher outside the school setting.’’

But Jayson definitely has an alter persona — her wife is a firefighter, and as a stylish femme, her fashions are featured on the queer fashion landscape.

She spoke to the Globe about her musical pursuits, and more.

“In Lexington and a lot of spaces in Boston where I end up, I’m one of the very few persons of color. I’m one of two black faculty members in Lexington. As a black female music conductor, I’m even more rare. So when students interact with me, often I’m a proxy for all African-Americans. Unfortunately, that’s the weight you carry when you’re often in the minority.

“Knowing this, I always put my best foot forward, whether with my teaching or the way that I dress. I can’t control what others think about me, but I can control the way I look, so I always try to look very put together.

“The string program in Lexington has grown over the years; originally there were two orchestras, then [it] needed to divide into three, so I’m involved with these groups and also teach music electives and theory. I love music and feel like I have a knack for explaining things. I have a lot of energy and excitement and am able to get results.

“My students are incredibly talented, motivated, and dedicated to their craft. The typical kid is someone who is an excellent musician but also a robotics champion, varsity soccer player, and on the debate team. When you excel in all areas, it’s hard to prioritize music. I’m not interested in making professional musicians, but rather, lifelong musicians. Music transcends language and age, and as an orchestra director, it’s so satisfying to be part of something bigger and shape a sound and musical idea.

“I’m also a violist in Jaggery, and Walter Sickert & the Army of Broken Toys, and we play in venues all around Boston. The viola is the instrument of my choice because I love its range and sound, which is darker and richer than a violin. The viola’s repertoire is interesting, with a dynamic middle ground, instead of just playing the melody all the time.

“I also occasionally work at John Fluevog Shoes on Newbury Street, which suits me, because I’m always thinking about style and self-expression. My customers are artists, musicians, librarians – people who wear funky shoes. They trust me to pull out something that they might have missed on the shelf. I’ve worked there for years, and no one has ever asked me, “What do you do outside of Fluevog?’’ They might be surprised to know I’m a high school music teacher, especially because of the unique outfits I wear. Right now, I’m wearing a skirt made out of outdoor upholstery fabric, the stuff your lawn furniture might be made out of. Another day, I forgot my dress for a gig and made a big fluffy outfit out of wrapping paper. I like to set artistic challenges like this for myself. It’s my own personal aesthetic.’’

Cindy Atoji Keene can be reached at cindy@cindyatoji. com.