ugh.

I have the stomach flu. It's a strange sensation; I don't think I've vomited for non-alcohol related reasons in, like, five years.

Worst part of it all?

The stomach flu didn't hit until midway through sixth period. Sixth period is when I teach the sixth graders literature. Normally, the sixth graders (all twenty-two of them) are a bit over the top, but I'm usually successful in using my sheer force of personality to quell/direct their energy. Not today. Unbeknownst to me, they had decided beforehand to play this game where every kid in class would try to get their number on the board. Number on the board, for those who haven't been in a middle school recently, is a warning which is a prelude to more severe administrative action. You get your number on the board for being bad. And boy were they bad. Tossing things, tipping chairs, starting impromptu sing alongs, and so forth. In my nauseous, muscle cramped, headache laden state, I really couldn't roll with the punches. I tried feebly to teach over or around the malfeasants; finally, at the end of class, my eyes started filling with tears. Yes, I get very emotional when I'm ill. No, the kids didn't realize I was ill. Instantly, I'm surrounded by all the sixth grade girls, who ALSO have tears in their eyes. We have a sniffly (thankfully, no one started bawling) moment of reconciliation. Once again, I wish I had gone into another field, possibly one where you only need to interact with inanimate objects. Then I drove home and started throwing up.