Whose Room This Is I Think I Know

We're moving back to our original classrooms this weekend, and so I've been liberated from the yellow dungeon, and although I will miss its immensity, if not the maddening drone of that invisible fan, I have other things to worry about.

As hard as it was to pack my room up five weeks ago, confronting the jumble of furniture and boxes that awaited me there this morning was more than a little disheartening. It was hard to know where to begin. Complicating things was the fact that the data and telephone drop were demolished when they enlarged the window. My desk has been in the same place for sixteen years, and now I was going to have to raise a ruckus to get the necessary hook-ups for my phone and computer to keep it there. I left school yesterday in despair over the news; it was simply too much at the end of a long day.

I can't think of a time in my entire life when "sleeping" on something made any difference. Perhaps it's my stubbornness, but things generally look pretty much the same to me the next morning. Not this morning, though. Sometime in the middle of the night it occurred to me that I have colonized the window in that room way too long. Put aside the rubbish about distraction, everyone who enters that room should have equal access to the view. It's really not my room, it belongs to all of us who work there.

With that in mind, I moved my desk to the other corner and set up the library and reading area of the room over by the window so that the kids can grab a book and throw a pillow down to read in the sunshine.

That's if all the boxes with all the books ever got unpacked. Sigh.