Trevor Collins

It's definitely a different genre here.

I'm not gonna say too much more, but when we get to the discussion on the other side, I'm very eager to hear what you might compare this to.

It's called, I teach elementary school.

Kids today are out of control.

I took this job right out of graduate school.

I always wanted to be a teacher.

Whenever my family had warned me about the high stress, the long hours and nonexistent pay, I just reiterated that it was what I was meant to be.

What kind of job is being a teacher?

My dad had asked.

it's not a job it's a calling but how will you support yourself i'll make it work but it pays so little can't you go into medicine or computer programming and work with kids on the weekends being a teacher is more than a part-time effort the kids deserve all of me okay you're an adult you can make your own choices but don't complain to me when you regret it later

I'd been so sure, and now I sat here in the same classroom that I sat in every day, and I questioned everything.

It was so frustrating, the administration with all its rules and red tape, the parents who all thought their kid was special, the paychecks that barely put food on the table, and most of all, the kids themselves.

I knew this was a special class, but good lord were they out of control.

Every day it was the same thing.

Nonstop noise, no one paying attention, constant movement, things bouncing around the room, and vomit.

So much vomit.

It was like these little monsters couldn't stop expelling it.

Every day I had to clean up at least one mess.

And today was shaping up to be more of the same.

The bell rang and I looked out over the class.