Going home early

I spend all weekend at a training, returning with a new sense of optimism and energy for my school year. The optimism and energy was dampened just a little bit when I returned to discover that, in my absence, my students had overturned my sea monkeys, killing all of them. In addition, Harper Lee the betta was living in a white cloud of water - did a kid actually put something into the water? I'm trying not to think so. Luckily, the fish was alive.

After the sea monkey funeral, I'm feeling slightly better - until my 8th period class comes in. There are a few kids in that class who are just downright mean, talking throughout my teaching with little regard to common decency. The class takes the winds out of my sails, and the slightly nicer 9th period doesn't do a whole lot to make things better. I'm exhausted, and one of my favorite students told me I was redder than he's ever seen me.

After all of them have left, I look down at one of the desks, and see, "I hate this class so much" written in scribbly blue ink.

I had to the end the day before it ended me.