Home.

Recall the last time you took a trip. Do you remember the moment when you knew it was time to go home? Do you remember missing your own bed, the comfort of your Sealy Posturepedic pillows? Do you remember wishing you could climb into your closet to search for clothing instead of sifting through your sloven suitcase (now a wild pile of both soiled and unused apparel)? I remember it. Every time I travel 'round the world with my students or take a trip with my Honey Rabbit and a few friends, I start to feel it. Sometimes, I actually embark on mental journeys home. I picture myself on a plane, then cuddled up with my favorite blanket, my fat dog (Rocky), my fuzzy slippers, and a perfect glass of Pinot Grigio. It isn't that I hate being with them or that I am tired of the time we are spending together, I just want to be elsewhere. It isn't that I don't appreciate my experience abroad, I am just ready for it to be over with. It's not personal. Sometimes, it just happens. And, despite the fact that I am not currently shacked up in a European hotel room that contains a twin sized bed too short for my six feet, a bidet that makes me question the cleanliness standards, a shower so small I can hardly shut its door, and a fan that was clearly manufactured in 1967 (because the hotel has no air conditioning), I still feel that feeling. I have already left where I am, and I, though quite reluctantly, have already started the journey to where I want to be.

Right now, I am contemplating one of the most important career decisions I will probably ever have to make--leaving my classroom. Though the thought envelops me in discomfort, fear, and sadness--in some ways--I feel I have already gone. Regardless of the fact that I pour my heart and soul into every lesson I create, that I tear up at the thought of leaving behind my current kids, and that I look lovingly at my book shelves and wonder, "Who will read them now?", I have started that walk. I have already packed my suitcase (unsure of how many pairs of jeans and t-shirts I should include). I have already purchased the tickets (one-way, no return). I have already taken a taxi to the airport and started my walk down the breezeway that leads to the plane (it's cold, I should have worn a jacket). I have already requested my seat-belt extender (those fucking planes never fit my big ass). And, I have already curled up with the latest Jodi Picoult--snug against the window, arm rest down (I wouldn't want to touch a stranger).

I have already decided. There is more out there for me--all of it involves helping kids, all of it involves closing my classroom door (but always looking back). I can't forget where I came from especially with where I am going...

This is Derek and I in Las Vegas. It's the day before we left, but in our minds, we'd been home for at least a day or two.


This is my students and I in front of the Parthenon in Athens, Greece. Though we were clearly happy and jamming out, we were tired. In my mind, I had been home for nearly three days.



This is a picture we took from the plane on our way to Las Vegas. I wonder how many valleys and canyons I will have to travel through to arrive safely to my destination.


This is me. It is a video that one of my students took, and in turn, uploaded to YouTube. ;)


Here are more pictures of my classroom.