A helping of self pity with a side of frustration...

I know I said I wanted to be back in the classroom this year, but this is ridiculous. Every day since winter vacation I have dragged my weary ass home to sit on my couch and question if I really am meant to be a classroom teacher. I never thought I would say those words aloud (or at least in public), since I LOVE my job and there is nothing I'd rather do. But maybe, I'm not good at it. Maybe that's why this year is so fucking difficult and the kids are so out of control rotten. Maybe I am a lousy educator and I am ruining this bunch of kids and don't even know it. Maybe it isn't enough to love what you do, put all the time and energy you are capable of into it, and give it all you have... Maybe we should all hate our jobs and care less about them, then we'd do them better.
Then the rational side of my brain jumps into this conversation and I think,"What the fuck?? Why are all the toubles in the room MY fault? Maybe the kids are just bad? Maybe they just need a smack in the ass? Maybe they are just emotional wrecks that need serious therapy?" None of these things are my fault, but when I go to school they become my responsibility for 7 hours. And there are only so many tears you can cry over the same thoughts before you drive yourself insane.