Yesterday I taught in my new classroom for the first time. It was a quick visit, a low-stakes test run during advisory to prepare for two full days of teaching in the building next week.
I was only there for thirty minutes, but it was more than enough time to fall in love with my new space, a corner classroom on the third floor.
The corner means that I have two giant walls of windows that soar to the ceiling. The third floor means that I have a view.
I’d told myself not to get my hopes up, to be grateful for any window at all and to expect a view of the parking lot or the warehouse or the strip mall. Or maybe the mirrored round skyscraper that’s the one building in Detroit I can’t seem to find much affection for.
I already had a plan for how I could get my daily river views. Because I am not going to work practically on the water and not get to see it every day. I could lunch in the cafeteria and step outside onto the fourth-floor terrace, which has expansive river views. I could leave the building at lunch or during my prep to walk the block and a half to the riverfront, breathe it in for a moment, and then return to the building to work.
But I only have to lift my eyes from my laptop to get my fill of the river, because I have a river view from my classroom!
Now it’s more a sliver of water, nearly hidden behind a vacant lot and a water tower and some abandoned warehouses. But to me, it’s perfect.
the dirigible plum 
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