I have come to realize that part of being an adult is understanding the shortcomings of others and dealing with the resulting frustration in healthy, reasonable ways.
In other words, grown ups don't throw hissy fits.
Some days it is more tempting than others. And I will admit that from time to time I have been known to forget myself and throw one with some foot stomping thrown in for good measure.
Today has been one of those days.
Being a teacher is hard. Being a teacher in a school where half of the kids don't understand you (they literally do not speak the same language) is hard. Being in any profession where there are no clear expectations set, yet reprimands for not meeting the unknown expectations are harsh and brought swiftly is hard. Being responsible for the safety and intellectual development of a child (much less 25 children) for eight hours a day is hard.
All of these hard things are usually held in check by passion for what I do, love of the kids themselves, and a sense of purpose from my work. On days like today, those things are no match for the challenges. On days like today I sit in my classroom and cry during my planning period because all of the hard stuff attacked me all at once.
So, here I sit this afternoon with a bottle of root beer and a slice of stuffed crust pizza. Tonight I will wallow and pout during my pity party. Tomorrow I will pick myself up, put myself back together, and dive head first into another day. This job, this life, is hard, but it's what I asked for.