Speaking of entryways: Another a-"door"-able story

 What is it with me and doors lately? Obviously, I am CONSTANTLY on the look-out for magical passageways, a la the wardrobe to Narnia or Platform 9 3/4. I always take a second look at intricate sconces or book titles that might double as portal triggers. But thus far, I remain frustrated (but still hopeful).

Apparently, the recent installation of two doors in my home has heightened my obsession for entryways. And suddenly, everywhere I looked...magic. Thanks to my school's construction project, doors are defying logic and...disappearing. 

After calmly and graciously moving out of my beloved Room 24 to make space for the STEAM (STEAM stands for "Screw Tenant-rights: Evict Amy Mosiman) wing that is comprised of two classrooms with its own special exit leading to an outdoor classroom (magical door #1), I finally decided to face my personal trauma head-on to walk past...my past. My heart stopped. My face turned white. With a shaking hand, I reached to grasp the ghost of a door knob that no longer existed. Where two neighboring doors had stood, only one remained. STEAM (Stop Teaching, Erase Amy Mosiman) had somehow, magically, made a door dissolve. Our STEAM instructor, the unflappable Eric, was infuriatingly indifferent to this alteration to our access-ways. 

I, however, was preoccupied with the indecipherable patch-job. While the construction workers enjoyed my summary of Poe's "Cask of Amontillado," they did not feel compelled to alter their handiwork. 

Yup. It was up to me. 

Unfortunately, 4th grade has had a bit of a busy schedule...we were one member down...unless you counted the fact that we were soon to be gaining an extra member thanks to our very pregnant Marissa which meant that soon, we were going to be down another TWO members...we considered installing a revolving door to handle the procession of subs. 4th grade team planned and implemented a baby shower, choreographed  and video-taped the tutorial "moves" (eye roll) of the Halloween Costume Parade finale, will begin wrestling nine-year-olds into dance formations, brainstormed and wrote the outline for the up-coming school-wide assembly to include skits, musical numbers, and special effects, squeaked in a quick flight to the West Coast to purchase paper plates (for the shower), will soon return for another West Coast week-end, found ourselves buried beneath an avalanche of longhouse projects (boasting a LOT of doors), and somehow squeaked in some teaching. 

How hard could it be to build and install a door?

Barring a nervous break-down, I settled for a sticker. 

Once Katriel helped me wrestle it onto the wall, I could breathe again. 

Until...

I encountered the next door disaster. 

I came to an abrupt halt outside my friend Meggan's classroom. There used to be a door across the hall. Where was the door that used to be across the hall? Now, instead of a door...there was an alarmingly clean, from ceiling-to-floor, dry erase board. 

I stormed into Meggan's room to demand answers. 

She admitted that she had had some knowledge of the installation of the dry erase board to replace the empty threshold of the vacated vestibule. I conceded that, in absence of a door, the dry erase board was a suitable adornment across from a math classroom. Meggan admitted that she was having trouble besmirching its sparkling surface. I had no such qualms. Christening untried surfaces is my favorite! I unleashed my inner graffiti artist and skipped away...in search of more doors, of hidden doors, of doors which were doors before...answering the age-old question of "When is a door, not a door?" 

Never. 

Apparently, with the right perspective...ANYTHING can be a door...a physical, mental, or spiritual passageway. My 4th graders can tell you that the Seneca Tribe is known as the "Keepers of the Western Door." A TV can be the window to the world. There's death's door. A foot in the door. As for me, right now, I'm going door to door because the trick is...to never stop looking.