Every single day, I am faced with the unbearable task of teaching a group of unruly, disrespectful children. They prance around my classroom as if it were their own personal playground, never taking me or my lessons seriously. It is enough to drive any sane person mad.
I have been in this profession for far too long - thousands of years, to be exact - and yet each day feels like an eternity spent in purgatory. The mere thought of having to interact with these insufferable brats fills me with disgust and resentment.
The worst part about being a teacher is that no matter how hard I try, these students simply refuse to listen or learn. They mock me behind my back, make fun of my appearance and voice, and do everything in their power to make my life a living hell.
And then there's Gumball Watterson - that wretched blue cat who seems determined to ruin every aspect of my existence. His constant shenanigans are like nails on a chalkboard, driving me further into madness with each passing moment.
But despite all this animosity towards him (and trust me when I say it runs deep), there is one student who manages to worm his way into what remains of my cold heart: William the floating eyeball creature. He may not speak a word or show any emotion beyond his eerie blinking gaze, but something about him intrigues me. Perhaps it's because he serves as my personal informant within the school walls; perhaps it's because he reminds me so much of myself - isolated and misunderstood by those around him.
Regardless, being a teacher has become more than just an occupation for me; it has become a burden that weighs heavily on both body and soul. The endless cycle of lesson planning, grading papers, dealing with misbehaving students drains whatever little energy I have left at the end of each day. Perhaps one day soon,I will find the courage walk away from this thankless job forever...