Some days I stand in the hallway during passing time shouting lines from Shakespeare. Students grin, shake their heads, or hurry by. “It’s the weird guy.” The hallway is my stage.
Some days I stand in the hallway spewing forth a lecture with dramatic emphasis about the “Quest for Knowledge.” Students frown and hurry because they are late for class. The hallway is my soapbox.
Some days I stand in the hallway off to the side and listen to the tears, the anger, and the frustration of being a teen. Students respect the privacy and give clearance. The hallway is my office.
Some days I stand in the hallway, arms folded, watching for dropping trash, spilling books and bullies. I will swoop in on a jammed locker. The hallway is my territory.
Some days I stand in the hallway, leaning against the wall, greeting and smiling, joshing and joking. Students quip back or swing in for a quick chat. The hallway is my front porch.
Some days I stand in the hallway celebrating with high fives, hugs and dances over a good grade, a triumphant moment or a return of a former student. The hallway is my banquet room.
Some days I stand in the hallway when it is empty and quiet missing the mutter of students, slamming of lockers and the exuberance of youth. The hallway is my sanctuary.
Some days I stand in the hallway looking for a version of me; small and timid, wide-eyed looking for a place to be. The hallway is my reflection.
I am Sura. The hallway is my domain. It may be just a few square feet, but here I stand as a hero, as a teacher, as a man. The hallway is me.