Those two words run through my head every single minute of every single class. Would it be giving in? Of course. Would I be happier? Probably. Unfortunately there's also a little thing called fiscal responsibility which tugs at my lingering thoughts of freedom.
As little Javante was sashaying his little 4th grade 'tude all around the classroom, I thought to myself, this would be the perfect time to quit. But my resignation had to be dramatic. I couldn't just waste it on the little beasts in class. Who, then? My principal most likely wasn't going to be in her office and even then I really didn't want to rub it in her face -- she wasn't the reason for my unhappiness. What would be optimal is if I could scream, I quit to each and every class that has made my life a living hell for the past four months.
"Good morning class 311, I quit, have a great rest of your day"
"Good afternoon class 211, I quit, have a great evening"
No matter how it goes, though, I'd always want to do it better which, ultimately, might be why I'm not quitting. I would never be able to get it right and it will never live up to my expectations.
Besides, nothing would torture them more than having me show up to work every day.
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