"Another day." The words left her mouth slowly, as if it took every ounce of energy to produce four measly syllables, and a scowl filled her face. I understood what she meant: mustering the wherewithal to come in and teach to students who didn't appreciate you and put no effort into understanding material was a tough task to accomplish.
"Another day!" I repeated, a smile in my words and one my face, a spring in my step.
She turned toward me, paused for a moment. I'm not sure what thoughts whirled through her brain in that one moment, but I know it didn't take long for her to understand what I meant. That as hard as it was to put one foot in front of the other, she'd been given that opportunity again.
"Another day," she whispered before giving me a thumbs up. "Another day."