Respawned in Room Whatever

On surviving week one (and looking good doing it)

By Victoria (Tori Sparks) Sylvestre

Prologue: The Fellowship Forms

Before the U-Haul, before the gear,
Jerome gathered us, the vision clear.
A fellowship of teachers bold,
Project Invent stories to be told.

We learned the sacred design dance,
To give our students fighting chance-
Not just to build, but question why,
To see through problems’ clever lie.

In training rooms we practiced pain,
The good discomfort, growth’s refrain.
Fellow cohort, minds aligned,
Ready to leave old ways behind.

Now armed with purpose, tools, and crew,
We scatter forth to make it new...

The Great Migration

We backed in the U-Haul at morning’s breath,
My family crew, defying death.
Fifty miles of dreams to haul,
One elevator ride for all.

Up and across to my new space-
A faculty lounge stripped with grace.
Big fridge gone, drink machine too,
But perfect for our maker crew.

A dragon’s hoard of gear and glow
To spark this room from status quo.

Amazon Basic rolling shelves, tall and proud,
Softbox lights that shout out loud.
Two green screens stretched like techy sails-
Where stories bloom and truth prevails.

Student voices, dreams, inventions,
Design process, bold intentions.
Art supplies bursting from bins and pails.

Digital cameras stacked like loot,
Neon signs that softly hoot.
LEDs that bathe the walls in flame,
Gaming lights to up the game.

A Stream Deck for scenes on cue,
And solar lucky cats-too dark to do.
(They sit in silence, nonplussed, bemused,
In a room that windows simply refused.)

Oh! And there’s IKEA’s finest shark,
Who swims through lessons, wild and snark.

And on the board, with pixel grace,
My cat samurai takes her place-
Personal logo, fierce and sleek,
Project Invent’s mystic geek.

Week One Begins

At 4 a.m., I rise with stars,
Driving past the sleeping cars
On 540’s ghostly, glowing vein
Where silence rides the asphalt plain.

The toll booth blinks-a gate, a vow,
A warrior’s path begins right now.

By 6, I park in shadow’s dome-
My handicap spot, my launchpad home.
At 2:30, I step into light,
A reverse vampire with teaching might.

Like some reverse-time vampire queen,
I teach in dark, emerge serene.
Each sunrise commute, each hallway roam-
I conjure magic. I build home.

They said: design. I said: let’s go!
Day one, we danced the IDEO flow.
We mapped our “why,” we told our tale
Of sweaty halls and crowded fail.

And through their stories, raw and clear,
The wicked problems did appear:

No signs to speak, no space to move,
Old schools stitched where nothing grooves.
Narrow doors between the past,
Floor “2-and-a-half”-lost at last.

Lunch lines tangled, free meals gone,
Bathroom hideouts, skipping on.
Hallways clogged like arteries blocked,
Where fresh air dreams are daily mocked.

But oh, these kids? Electric minds.
They wrote to Board members of all kinds,
To congressfolk and district heads,
Unraveling red tape’s tangled threads.

They saw the problems, named them true:
Navigation nightmares, hygiene too.
From hallway jams to lunchroom strife,
They mapped the maze of student life.

They didn’t just ask-they invented the ask,
Wore empathy like armor, ready for the task.
From crowded corridors to access lost,
They dug through data, lines were crossed.

Friday’s Light, Tuesday’s Edge

Then Friday’s fire drill blessed our day-
Blue skies called our souls to play.
Low humidity, perfect air,
A breath of hope beyond compare.

But Tuesday calls with tougher tasks:
Week two brings uncomfortable asks.
(Monday’s Labor Day retreat-
A brief pause before the heat.)

We’ll march with questions sharp and deep,
Making stakeholders lose their sleep.
The truth behind each wicked “why”
Won’t hide beneath a nervous sigh.

Our interviews will pierce and probe
Till problems shed their hiding robe.
So sharpen pens and questions too-
For wicked problems don’t fear you.

Thanks and Transformation

And me? I thanked the one who saw
The spark in me beneath the awe-
Mr. Fitzgerald, with open hand,
Who said, “We want you. You’ll withstand.”
He saw a warrior not yet told-
A force for change, a heart grown bold.

Now here I stand, Magnet crew proud,
With Project Invent, I shout it loud:
Not just STEM and not just code-
But changing the whole dang school-mode.

So if you ask, “How’d week one go?”
I’ll grin beneath the classroom glow.
The answer’s not a spreadsheet chart-
It’s this poem.
It’s this heart.