Sitting in an Empty Classroom, Waiting to Leave

Room 302. When I think of ASA I will think of this room. Here is where I met the surly 5 pm'ers, the sleepy 9 am'ers, and the hungry 3 pm crowd. Here is where - among the other buildings and classrooms - I watched World War III erupt as we discussed volatile topics such as abortion, racism, homosexuality, sexism, and the dreaded religion. But also here is where I experienced the surge of joy, the same bliss I had when I was a student in an English Lit classroom. In this room, I received flowers, tears, excuses, angry glances, cross talking, and laughter. Lots of laughter.

These students allowed me to spill my guts. To talk about all the things that will become stories from this day forth. What was bubbling inside of me. What I needed to speak out first - out to the ASA student - before I could calm down enough to write. There was so much heartache and anger in me, inciting riots from all the aforementioned material was the way to transform and heal me. I put all my thoughts into action. I planted seeds in my students. My work here is done. But I will never forget Room 302.