The Living Dead

I am dying. It is a slow painful death called "First Year Teacher in a Middle School." I am tired. I don't even have time to shave my legs or pluck my eyebrows. I get up at 5AM and take a shower and hope that I put on matching clothes. I walk out of the house at 5:30 with wet hair, a pony tail holder and my make up to do in the car at stop lights even though it is dark outside still. I just keep hoping that I don't walk into school looking like I am a clown. I don't have time to look in the mirror when I get there because I am making copies, entering grades and organizing my "cart" for the day. The kids come and I am running around trying to get my bottle of water and sneak into the lounge to put my pop tarts into the toaster. I finally sit down for our team meeting, but the whole time I am grading papers or making overheads or putting together lists of student reading levels or whatever else. I am pretty sure this is living death.