On Cursing My Poor Numeracy

This is going to be short and sweet. The other day I was sitting in my room, snug as a bug, and totally content about the fact that my half-term break was fast approaching. However, for some reason I went all mental-retardo and thought that I only had two weeks of teaching left before my glorious week off, and therefore did the math all wrong. Turns out that no, it's actually THREE weeks of teaching that I have to struggle through, before I get to fall into the sweet bliss that is NOT WORKING FOR A WEEK.

Ugh.

Frankly, I think it's sad that I so look forward to the times when I don't have to do my job. Have I really come to this stage in my life already? I thought I'd have a few years at least, before I went all crotchety and mean.

'Mean Old Miss Carson' they'll call me. Maybe they're calling me that already. Dear god, I hope not. I really don't want to be that girl yet.

I think, if anything, they call me "Crybaby Carson" or something...because the rumours have to be flying about how easily I cry.

I think I took the wrong approach with these kids. I tried to get them to like me, and they do, but they don't really see me as threatening. When I put on my angry face, it's cute more than anything. Ugh. I'm not entirely sure how to crack out the bitch, but I can try.

Or I can at least say I will try, and then imagine what it would be like if I did....

That's likely how it will go down.