It is official. My old room is no longer *my* room anymore. All of my things are out of there, the cupboards are the cleanest they've been in 10 years with labeled boxes of materials awaiting the new teacher's arrival.

My *new* room is just that... new... with piles of stuff, not sure of where it belongs, not sure what the overall plan is to be. I've gone from tables to individual desks, from classes of near 30 to a class size of 12, and from needing everything, to mostly needing nothing, but hesitant to let go of anything.

Without a window to park my desk in front of, I have it by the door, out of the way of students, easily accessible should I need to pop in and grab something.

I have student tables, scrounged from here and there, a mix-matched hodgepodge of old heavy wooden, to newer laminate tops, perched around the room's perimeter for easy power access for laptops. No more power cords twisted and tangled, duct taped to the floor and tables, in an effort to provide constant power for a class set of computers.

The cupboards are shoved with supplies, the few items I took with me to my new position. The tables are piled high with assorted items, not sure yet where they will land permanently. In my old room, I had finally 'perfected' my floor plan, everything had a place, the perfect spot for whatever, from library books, to hall passes, to paper for students to grab, to the pencil sharpener... all those locations had been tested and tried over the years until the best one was found.

It is like moving into a new house: full of promise, a clean slate... but a little scary at the same time. I know it won't be long and it will feel like home. But for now... it seems like I am squatting in someone else's space, longing to go back home.