Sorry, I know you don't want to talk about it. 

Either the kids have been running fevers and throwing up since Valentine's Day, or else the spring weather has rendered them completely unable to multiply, or add, or form letters, or sit in a chair.   

You look at the lesson plan, and you see that's there's not nearly enough time to do everything you planned - -and at the same time, summer vacation is so-o-o-o-o far away.

The kids won't listen to you.  You can't even stand to listen to yourself anymore.  Your teaching style has devolved into growls of, "Come on, this is so easy!" or else you just go ahead and wearily admit that no, they will never use this in real life, and it's pretty much pointless to learn, and they might as well quit school now and go get a job at the car wash, for all you care, just for the love of Mike be QUIET.

Guess what?  You're still doing better than Miss S. 

My sister sent me this dialogue she had with a public school kid, and she swears that she copied the conversation down verbatim, just minutes after it occurred.

 (I was very sad to have to take out the teacher's name, which, if you say it fast enough, suggests a common amphibian.) 

I've been helping Tabitha, next door, with her homework. She's telling me about life in 8th grade:

Tabitha:...so Miss S. just screams "Shut up!" at us all day long...
Me: Who's Miss S., the lunch aide?
Tabitha: No, she's the Behavioral Specialist.
Me: You should tell her her methods are a little out-dated.
Tabitha: I can't! She would put me in A.L.C.
Me: What's A.L.C.?
Tabitha: The Alternative Learning Center.
Me: What's that?
Tabitha: That's where you sit in an empty room with Miss S. standing over you while you do your work and telling you to shut up if you ask a question.
Me: Wow.
Tabitha: And every Monday, they put us in the auditorium and yell at us about how we're not working hard enough.
Me: What do they call that?
Tabitha: Team Meetings, or sometimes Communication.