how my 8th graders make me feel - an essay in .gif form

My copy of The Fault in Our Stars got here today and I am going to go put myself in bed and read and read and read and probably cry but also laugh because seriously. This day. This day.

We begin every lesson full of optimism, despite the fact that it takes at least 5 minutes to get everyone to sit down, turn on the lights, no they cannot be turned off it is 8 in the damn morning and it is dark outside, and realize that once again there I am trying to get their attention. Just like every morning.

But no, I can’t get a full sentence out without having to tell someone to either a) stop talking b) sit down c) turn around d) get their upper half out of the window or e) some hellish combination.

By the way, has anyone done their homework? No, not a single one of you? Why did  I expect anything different?

Then comes the point at which I just want to destroy things indiscriminately because H won’t sit down, F and P continue to talk with each other, I have seen nothing but the back of J’s head since the lesson started, A keeps asking me questions that I’ve just answered and I’m pretty sure Y is actually asleep.

By now, not even half an hour later, my throat is already horse from the level I have to speak at just to be heard over the cacophonous roar that only 19 13 to 14 year olds can produce. And, oh, did I say they could hear me? If they can, they sure as fuck aren’t actually listening because I’m pretty sure I’ve said “page 44” at least five times in both German and English. The next one of you who asks me “welcher Seite” is going to get a chair to the head. In my thoughts. Holy fucking shit, I might actually cry.

Finally we get to the point where the only answer is “ok, everybody gets to do an exercise in the workbook by themselves. I’m finished trying to talk over you beasts.”

Thankfully, their replacement teacher is coming after the end of next week and I never have to have anything to do with these little bastards again.