I am amazed that I did not murder a student and smear the blood down the hallway walls today. I should have. I was groped, the students mocked gay people at lunch, didn't try worth a damn and more than one said, 'I don't understand English! Yada yo!'
No, YOU'RE yada, you muck boat of turd gravy. English doesn't just osmose into your brain. If you don't put down that pile of plastic shit you're fiddling with and listen for 2(+) seconds, you probably won't understand. Furthermore, I've no qualms about knocking your tiny head off of your tiny shoulders and wearing your face as a mask. Questions? No? Excellent.
And my elementary classes (which I had to run to down the street to in heels, thanks to the bizarre requirement of business attire) weren't much better. During a 6th grade lesson I played a familiar game that the kids ordinarily respond to really well. I checked my meticulous lesson notes to make sure that I hadn't done it recently, and figured I was in the clear. Nope. They bitched and moaned about not doing a new game even though they ended up having fun. You're impudence is insufferable, children! My remedial class was actually quite good, but tiring. The fourth class out of five in a row. Unfortunately, I started off a little sour since I'd just come off the lesson that my teacher talked over me the ENTIRE time. Really lady? You feel compelled to paraphrase what I'm saying... while I'm saying it? Give me a shovel, so I can hit myself with it.