I cried!

It happened on Wednesday. I had a difficult hour with my 5th hour government class. It has to do with a variety of things that are constantly bubbling right below the surface including the routine disappearance of school supplies during the hour (read: someone steals my stapler and board eraser because they know how upset it makes me) and a particulary disrespectful drop-out from the alternative high school. After an after-class confrontation with said student, where he told me I was a terrible teacher because I was always bitching at him, I let him go to his last hour. As my last hour kids are coming into class, I turn around and see that my board eraser, once again, has been successfully stolen. And then- it happened. BIG TEARS START ROLLING DOWN MY FACE. Trying to divert an emotional disaster, I head to the office where my principal looks at me with such sympathy that the floodgate of tears is unleashed. Balling. I'm balling. I attempt to return to my 6th hour. I open up my mouth to speak, and the tears come again. My principal tells me to take a day off. I do. I sleep in until 11- go running- go shopping- go tanning. Meanwhile, I'm fielding phonecalls from more than a handful of students all around the school who have heard the rumor that I have quit my job. Expressions of embarrasing (for me) love and admiration pour out- but the battle lines have been drawn. The administration uses this last episode from the surly student to finally expel him for good. (He's been on the journey to expulsion for months- is not allowed to attend his math class anymore because he is such a disruption). And while I am shopping on my "mental health day", certain students stage a protest to keep this student in school. How- you may ask- did I get caught up in this drama? I cried. I cried hard and in front of people. I feel weak, manipulative, and misunderstood. I wish the situation could just be "someone stole her eraser and she was upset and emotional and cried". But's its not. People think I have an agenda against this kid- they assume (wrongfully) that I hate him. Sometimes it is hard to be a Christian when dealing with these types of situations- that lack a black and white. And sometimes, girls just cry.