Vacation.

Rarely am I able to stay away from my classroom over a vacation.

I know.

I hear all the teachers like, "STOP. GO HOME NOW."

And there are a million reasons I can't.

Or don't want to...like...where else can I blast broadway show tunes and scream-sing along to Anastasia? Nowhere, but an empty school with two incredible custodians wearing noise-canceling headphones.

But.
There is another reason.

Sure, I am also currently embracing the Marie Kondo life and purging things I've held onto because I MIGHT use them. And it's a big draw to come in and cleanse this room of clutter.

It's a thing of beauty. I also had a dear teacher friend who said I'm #teachergoals...and I was like, "y'all know I just found a Red Bull, beside a rotten apple, underneath a pile of tshirts in my room, right?" #realteacherlife

I mean, if that's your goal?  <3 #winning.

But.
There is another reason.

And it's two-fold.

I am a worrier.
Always have been, always will be.
And vacations induce worry.

Are they sleeping?
Are they eating?
Are they happy?
Has anyone taken their sweet cheeks in their hands today and said, "I LOVE YOU!"
Did they have breakfast?
A snack?
Have they sat in front of their computer, tablet, or TV for hours on end?
Are they safe?
Are they safe?

Are.
THEY.
SAFE?

And that worry, that larger than life worry sits in the pit of my stomach.
Even when I'm not in my classhome.

I made it home to NYC for a few days.
Washed the kitchen floor.
Made some kosher food shtuffs.
Saw KING KONG - 10 out of 10 recommendation for a puppet that will bring you to tears.
Spent some time with my favorite people outside of school.
Fell in love with Adam Pascal's eyelashes all over again, hey Pretty Woman!
Went to rehearsal for Avenue Q, my name Christmas Eve.

And all the while, I worried.
There is one place that quells that worry.


Room 125.
My classhome.

Getting it ready for my family to come back means we're almost back.
Getting it cleaned is getting ready to share my excitement with them.
It takes some of the worries and turns it into a fervor.

Joy rumbles inside me when I think about how they'll love this one part I cleaned.
Or one part I've changed.

Or they won't believe the closet is this clean - hahahaha - okay, I can't believe it.

This isn't just a room.
It's a safe space.
It's home.
It's happy.
It's my familyroom.

They aren't just 2nd graders, they are world changers, future leaders, comedians, joy makers, and part of my crew.

So.

Judge me if you must.
But I'll be home working in this little room for the next few days.

Chances are, I won't hear you judging anyway, I'll be scream-singing, "In My Dreams" from Anastasia.