It’s a sad scene, and all too familiar. I am sitting hunched over, tears welling up in my eyes, pulling out my hair, and quietly losing my mind. It is hard homework to begin with, made harder by the fact that I just don’t understand pottery.* I stare at the assignment, contemplating giving up now or continuing my melodramatic attempts.

But I don’t really have a choice; my grade is dropping more and more every assignment and my GPA just can’t handle this anymore.

This is all my fault. I just know it. Then again, I have tried, I really have. It’s hard not to come to the conclusion that I’m a raging idiot, destined to fail 11th grade, never attend college and work as a toilet bowl cleaner for the rest of my years (no offense to all you toilet bowl cleaners; you do mighty fine work).

I’m overcome by self-pity. But I’m also angry. Something within me keeps screaming, “This is NOT my fault anymore!” I’ve paid attention in class, even come in after school, yet I still don’t understand this stuff.

And when I look around, even some of the brightest, most talented students are struggling alongside me because of my pottery teacher’s erratic teaching style. It’s a war zone in the classroom. How ironic that I am battling my own teacher to learn.

Based on my Garfield education, I can name at least three teachers who I seriously believe to be mentally ill. I find myself suggesting classes to underclassmen based solely on the fact that “you can talk to your friends all class and the teacher lets you text.” Not gonna lie, I like having a nonsense class. It’s a free period!

Yet deep down, I know it’s outrageous that these teachers continue to get paid. Paid for what, a job well done? Or occupying a classroom?

Well, apparently the latter is, in fact, true. To my dismay, New York has taken up the business of quietly disposing of hard-to-shake teachers into blank rooms where they are being paid to simply do nothing.

These “rubber rooms” — or more formally known as “reassignment centers” — are essentially dumps for problematic teachers that are too hard to fire. They are empty rooms where up to 60 – 70 people can be assigned to sit and wait all day.

These ridiculous inventions were made to counter the colossal power that is the teachers’ union. Apparently firing a teacher, especially one with seniority, is impossibly hard. Principals can swap turkeys with other schools, but when it comes to firing them, they’re out of luck.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m a strong supporter of teacher’s unions and higher salaries. I think it’s ridiculous how society treats its own backbone. I can understand where the union is coming from. But it is not fair that protecting teachers must come at such a high cost to the schools, taxpayers, and students.

It’s not fair that the only reason some teachers are still around is because simply they are too old to fire. Throwing old teachers on their backs would be cruel, but it is not fair to pass that burden onto the students. And it’s not fair that now I must deal with a teacher who doesn’t teach, a chaotic classroom, and hours of homework that I cannot begin to understand on my own.

This situation is not easily fixed. I’m lucky; my boyfriend happens to be a genius at pottery. Tutoring helps my grades temporarily, but it’s only a Band-Aid to the situation. Long-term solutions involve something along the lines of, “You’re fired,” although I’d settle for something less dramatic: Teachers’ unions need to recognize how this is radically unfair and consider limits to their control.

And my pottery teacher should indubitably reconsider his or her profession. May I suggest toilet bowl cleaning?

*Subject has been changed