I spoke too soon

Monday was not, in fact, any sort of pickle on top of any sort of crap sandwich. That honor would have to go to today.

Nay, it was not a pickle-it was just another crap sandwich on top of the first one.

Today I got classroom furniture thrown at me, and then I got called "white bitch" and every other horrid name under the sun...unfortunately for me, I only understood some of it as I only speak some vulgar Indonesian.

I guess I deserved it, what with scolding a student for disobeying my request to pay attention rather than doodling, and then asking him to leave my classroom after speaking to me rudely and mocking me. I can see why that would cause a person to fly off the handle and verbally abuse someone else.

No, wait; I can't. This happened before 8:30 this morning and I'm still shaking, eight hours later. I'm so freaked out I can hardly sit still.

You know what the worst part is?

The reason we're staying a third year is simple: the kids. With very few exceptions, I adore them. I agreed to stay because I loved my job and I couldn't imagine leaving.

Or at least I couldn't until today.

Now I don't know.

I want out. This is ridiculous.

I want to come home.