Busted

Busted on many levels:
1. Busted for not writing all week.
2. Busted ink pen in my pocket.
3. Busted spirit.

A Celine song was on the radio this morning when I got in my car and it gave me hope for the day, then I almost baked into a moving vehicle. That should have been my first sign that today was going to be a pile of excrement. I always almost wreck though, so I didn't pay any mind to it.
I was ready to make today my bitch, pardon my French (I don't understand that term, it's English, I'm speaking English). Oh how the day turned on me. I see the administration walking towards my classroom and I get an automatic rush of excitement and terror at the fact that I might finally get observed, only to watch them pass me by and go to the Library.
I didn't give up though, I had a whole day ahead of me and a good Math lesson for the afternoon. As each hour passed things got worse. The kids were crazier and I was more annoyed. I wanted my observation be done with so bad, so I kept my fingers crossed as I started my lesson, nothing. Just a headache.
I'm starting to go crazy, knowing about all the observations happening around me and hearing how others are so glad to be done is maddening. Just do it! Come at me bro! I'm teaching, maybe not well, but I'm trying my hardest. So just get it over with, I feel like I'm gonna crack.
Today was the kind of day that makes me want to find all of my nuggets when they are 23, well with the exception of maybe three, at their jobs and just annoy them for 4-7 hours. Does that make me a bad person?
How I'm gonna make it through the next 14 days is a totally mystery to me.

My pockets? INK!