Today is day four of the new school semester. Because  of the scheduling, a process we refer to “fruit basket turnover,” the students don’t always stay in the same class hour.

So, after eighteen weeks of togetherness, we’re all thrown into a different orbit. It’s unsettling for some of them. I don’t assign seats in my classroom; it’s easier for me not to mess with a seating chart. Plus that notion of seated by alpha is totally skewed when the new kid arrives, as they inevitably do.  The students are the ones who actually make their own seating chart. They sit in the same desk everyday. In fact, minor verbal skirmishes have taken place over, “S/He’s sitting in my desk.”

And when I gently remind the person that there are no assigned desks, the response is, “But I sit here all the time.”

Tonight, scrolling through my usual news blogs, bloggy blogs, Twitters and Facebooks, I looked up from my wing-backed chair next to the pie table stacked with books that belonged to my mother on which sits the lamp my husband almost brained the decorator with after she handed him the invoice, and thought, “I sit here all the time.”

Maybe to stir my writer brain I need to move my writer butt to, if not another part of the house or out of the house, at least a different chair.

What habits might you be a creature of?

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