Estoy triste porque salgo

On my last day at school, I managed to put around 120 pupils in a state of hyperactivity by feeding them chocolate.
I managed to finally lose it with Vile Year 9 (that I shall nevertheless miss) and deprive them of the goodbye chocolate, cause they were really, really vile. And if they couldn’t be nice to me even on my last day, then they are vile indeed. Which doesn’t change the fact that they were outstanding in oral assessments I prepared them for but did not conduct (I wanted objective results, so I asked their regular teacher to do it) which means that I’ve actually managed to teach them something.
I taught some Polish to Year 10, who asked for it, and I received a dramatic public declaration of love from one of them, which he justified by my supposed beauty, in my mother tongue.
I decided to take up Spanish, to make myself more marketable – my mentor reckons I can put it on my CV and learn it by September. Why not.
I failed to stop the movie I was showing to my favourite Year 9 on time and so I managed to show them a sex scene. My mentor came in later on, and there were people talking in bed on the screen. He raised his eyebrows at that, and I thought: thank God you weren’t here for the naked bum bit.
I delivered what was supposed to be an inspiring speech to the same Year 9, hopefully motivating them to keep up with their languages. And received a standing ovation.
But I somehow managed to keep myself together until the afternoon registration that is, cause my form managed to make me cry.