I cried myself to sleep last night. I was dog-tired, and thought I'd drift right off, but instead, I started thinking about leaving and I just lost it. I had to read printed-out emails from friends to calm myself down.
Needless to say, there are parts of me that don't want to leave England.
And then I come to work and have a day like today and I can't wait to jump on that airplane and get the hell out of here. Days on which I feel like the most ineffective, crap teacher ever.
It is muggy out, I've been moist from sweat all damned day, my feet are killing me (in shoes that have never murdered my feet before) and I just want to cry. My hair is limp, I'm exhausted, and I just want to go to bed but have to come back for an awards evening.
We had two minutes of silence today for the London bomb victims. One little shit had to be a turd during it. I actuallly looked at a roomful of kids this afternoon and thought, "I hate these kids." Maybe it's just PMS talking, but what a horrible thought for a teacher to have! That's what working at St. Peter's has done to me, and for that, I'm so glad I'm leaving.
I suppose the only thing to do is to go home, shower and some of my leftover curry. Perhaps an icy-cold Cosmopolitan is in order.
But first I have to stop crying so I can leave my classroom without everyone seeing me with red eyes. And I have to drag my burning feet up to the library to see if I can get a ride with Kathy.
In the mean time, to illustrate just how nutty this school is: We don't actually know when the end of term is. Kathy emailed someone in the front office. Here's the reply:
Cant be of much help I'm afraid. I asked yesterday (Jan) about the end of term and which day we broke up and there is apparently some confusion. She said she would ask the head!!!! but no word as yet. We are all waiting to hear in here as well.
You know what I really could use right now? Enchiladas. A nice frozen margarita. And Millie.
No comments:
Post a Comment