On Being Crazy To Want This, Even For Awhile

I've got a free period right now, and since I am feeling a bit too down on life to actually care about planning anything too far in advance, I've decided I'd make use of the time to write an entry here, and maybe clear some things up.

Yesterdays post was short and sweet, and I do believe it really summed up how I felt at the end of the day; Like total shit.

The day itself had started out rough. Rachel, whom I usually get a ride with, texted me at 6:15 in the morning (I usually don't get woken up until 6:40, by my alarm) to say she wasn't going into work, as she had a migraine. I instantly panicked, not entirely sure how I was going to get into school. The bus to the village is notoriously bad, and I'd likely miss it and end up an hour or so late. That wouldn't do. I texted Simon, one of the PE teachers that lives in the town. He texted back, saying he could give me a ride, but that he'd be leaving at 6:45. That gave me twenty minutes. With no other option, I accepted a lift from him, and proceeded to have the fastest shower I've had in my life, followed by the most rushed assembly of an outfit that I've seen in awhile. I threw my wet hair into a bun, grabbed my bag, and set out just in time to see him round the corner in his car.

I don't know if you feel this way, but waking up and having to instantly rush everything really frazzles me out. I like to be able to take my time in the morning, and rather lazily go through the paces. Having to get myself ready in twenty minutes, start to finish, was not a nice way to start the day. I came into the building already feeling flustered and out of breathe.

As the day progressed, I increasingly felt the pressure building on me. I don't know if the kids could tell I was tired, or what, but they were not acting as they usually do. Both sets of 11s tested my patience on a number of occasions. They didn't seem to be bothered to do the work that I set, despite the fact that it really wasn't hard, and it wasn't totally boring either (well, my top set had to do some content questions, which is a touch boring, but it certainly is not hard). I was a bit annoyed with my top set 11, and when my bottom set came in and they carried on ignoring me it was just adding fuel to the fire. Two of the girls flat out refused to work, and I calmly told them to leave.

They refused. Both girls were standing, and literally planted their feet as far apart as possible, to signify their refusal to move. Frustration bubbled, and I asked them again, as politely as I could, to leave.

They laughed in my face, and said no.

"I am not going to ask you again, get OUT of my room. I'm not having you here if you're refusing to do the work. There are people in here who are actually working, and you're just ruining their day and mine. So get out, and get out NOW!" I said, losing my temper a bit and raising my voice.

"God, you always moan at us. You never moan at anyone else. She's talking, he's talking, but it's always us. This isn't FAIR!" the one girl shouted at me.

"Yep. It's always you. So get out," I said, not really caring to argue with her.

"I'm going to my house office," she said, dragging the other girl with her. "I hate this lesson, I hate this school!" she said on her way out.

"Bye," was all I said to her, in my most chipper, yet frustrated, voice.

After their removal, I sent an e-mail to the girls house office to say she should be on her way. I instantly got one back, saying I'd sent them to the wrong house office, and that Orwell House should deal with them. Sighing, I admitted my ignorance and instantly felt like a complete twat.

I had my 10s next, and was really hoping for an improvement. However, the kids weren't with me on this. In fact, they were probably the worst I'd ever seen them. I can't really even begin to describe what it was that set me off, because it was just a combination of things that accumulated into one huge blowout on my part. I had set some work, which they all blatantly set aside and ignored. I walked around, prompting groups of them to get on task, but they merely pushed the paper further away, ignored me, and continued on in their private conversations. I felt myself bristling, but fought really hard to keep it down.

I tried to get their attention a couple of times, so I could really stress the importance of doing the work. A few looked at me, but most remained engrossed in their own little worlds.

"YEAR 10!" I said, as loud as I could.

They stopped, and looked at me.

"Look. You guys cannot be chatting right now. I've given you something to do, and you really do need to get one with it. It's all important stuff, that leads up to your coursework essay," I said.

Instantly, they started to bombard me with questions about the coursework, saying they didn't understand it, and a number of other complaints. Words were flying at me from every direction, and I couldn't even hear myself think. It felt as if I was in a torrential rainfall of words. At any minute I was waiting for the lightening to crash down and strike me dead.

"YEAR 10!" I yelled again, "I cannot hear what you're asking me, because you're all talking at once. Let's use some common courtesy and ask our questions one at a time. Chances are you are all thinking the same thing..." I said.

They settled down for about a second (literally) and a few hands went up. Someone asked me a legitimate question, and I answered it. As I was talking, the chatter rose up again amongst the class. I tried to ignore it. Another hand went up, asked another legit question. I answered it. The level of chatter rose steadily as I was speaking. Another hand went up, and the student asked me the first question, which I had already answered.

I was annoyed.

"Guys...." I said. Nothing.

"Year 10...." I said. Nothing but noise.

"YEAR 10!!!!!!" I shouted.

They stopped talking.

"This is ridiculous! I'm trying to answer peoples questions - questions that I've actually already answered about FIVE times since I gave out the assignment, and it's really starting to annoy me! But to have someone ask the same question TWICE in a day, within a matter of minutes...I mean that really says something, doesn't it? You are not listening to each other, and you're certainly not listening to me!"

Snickers broke out here and there, and the chatter instantly resumed.

I threw my hands up in frustration, tossing the papers in my hand high into the air. I stood motionless as the paper fluttered to the floor. My pen fell on the desk in front of me, and bounced onto the floor as well. I still didn't move. I stood there, staring into space.

A few more heads turned.

"I don't know why I bother staying here," I said quietly. No one really heard, and I didn't care.

"I AM FUCKING SICK OF THIS SHIT!" I said loudly.

That got silence. Every head turned to me.

"Do you have ANY idea how hard I work for you guys?! I mean, really? The last piece of coursework I SPOON FED to you. I practically GAVE you the answers. A few of you did really really well, but how some of you still managed to hand in a rubbish paper is beyond me. How much more do you expect me to do?! I'm trying to help you through this work now, by giving you questions to answer on the stories, which is BASICALLY doing HALF the work you need for the essay...I'm once again GIVING you the answers, if you just do a little bit of legwork, and you just PUSH IT AWAY. You ignore me, you talk over me, and you show me ZERO respect. Why the hell should I do this?! I'm sick and tired of trying so damn HARD for you guys, when clearly you don't give a shit. If you don't care, then I'm seriously done caring. I am done with this. I'm done," I said. As the last sentence slid out of my mouth, I couldn't hold back the frustration I'd been holding in any longer. I broke into tears.

Turning quickly, I walked out the door and into the hallway. I left the door open, and stood there looking out the window, sobbing. I let myself cry for about a minute, and then I tried to calm myself down.

There wasn't any noise in my room. No one made a move.

After a few minutes, I felt sufficiently calm, and I walked back into the room. All eyes followed me.

"Okay. I'm sorry I swore, that was very unprofessional. But you have to understand how hard this is for me...I want you all to do well, because if you do well it means I'm doing well. I also care about you guys, I want you to do the best you can do...and it really hurts my feelings, on a personal level, when you basically disregard my efforts. It gets really hard to try for something when you are met with zero effort back. A person can only take so much. So here's the deal. I will keep trying to help you, but only if you give me something back. If you come to me for help on this coursework, and you don't have the accompanying questions done, I'm going to turn you away. If you don't out effort in, then neither am I. It's a two way street, and I'm done being the only one on it."

I stared at them for about a minute after this, not saying anything. No one said anything back.

"Right, so get to work on the questions."

They did get down to work, and the atmosphere lost the tension in a few minutes, but I still felt absolutely burnt out.

As the left the class, a few said they were sorry, but most just filed out as usual. In the hallway I heard some girls laughing and bragging about how they'd made me cry. This hurt me more than anything that had happened so far.

How is it funny to laugh at someone's pain and desperation? It's sick, really. I've never laughed at someone for being genuinely upset, ESPECIALLY if I was the one that caused it.

My 9s weren't the best either, and they followed the 10s. I nearly broke into tears TWICE while teaching my 9s, over the same blatant lack of respect. It was really hard. I held it back though.

When they left, I did literally sit at my desk, in the dark, and just....shut off. I shut off all evening. I got a ride home with a different co-worker, who took me out for a beer after he heard about my day. The beers helped relax me for awhile, but once they wore off I was still left with the nagging feeling of not feeling respected. I still feel as if my students have no respect for me. That is a hard feeling to deal with. I get walked all over in all my classes, aside from my 8s. I think with them, they're still too young to even understand what it takes to make someone feel like trash. They're still innocent.

Why do we have to grow up, and lose that? Why do we become these hurtful, selfish, vain people? And how does a person like me survive? I don't want to become a hardened bitch. I don't want that to happen. I want to be the sweet one. That's just me...but I'm really afraid that these kids are going to make me become someone else. Someone hardened and dead...

I really do not want that.....but if things keep going like this, if days like this keep happening, I won't last long.

I really was crazy to come here, even for awhile. I want out, now.

Let me come home....