Priceless

30 dollars: Amount of money it took to fill up my gas tank so I could get to work on Friday.

4 hours: Sleep I had the night before.

1 dollar and 65 cents: Cost of extra-large coffee to keep me from falling asleep at my desk.

Canned goods: What the students needed to bring in to get admission to their afternoon dance-a-thon in the gym.

45 minutes: Amount of time that I needed to be in the gym chaperoning.

Referee: My role during that 45 minutes to stop the girls from being petty enough to complain about the songs that were playing.

Dagger eyes: What I kept shooting at the "queen bee" of the group who started the drama and would. not. let. it. go.

Bellini: What I drank later that evening to help me forget about the day and the evilness that is "queen bee" or (what I've dubbed as my pet name for her) Satan's Spawn.

Grade 7 Classroom: Place that has a prime view of the school yard area where the 8's get dismissed so that I could see how the events of the afternoon were unfolding among them (and Satan's girl still didn't let it go, making it into something so redonkulously ridickulus that it became laughable).

3:50: Time it was that I and a few other teachers were de-stressing and talking about the stupidity that comes with being 13 and being female.

A few swift kicks to my sanity's nuts: What it took for me to say, "I hope that she gets an STD and her vagina falls off," when talking about my feelings towards SS.

Priceless: A student from a different grade walking by the class as soon as the above statement made it's way into the atmosphere for all to hear.

(Silver lining: At least it wasn't my principal.)