When I thought of today I remembered this poem,

When will the bell ring and end this weariness?
How long have they tugged the leash, and strained apart
My pack of unruly hounds: I cannot start
Them again on a quarry of knowledge they hate to hunt,
I can haul them and urge them no more.
No more can I endure to bear the brunt
Of the books that lie out on the desks: a full three score
of several insults of blotted pages and scrawl
of slovely work that they have offered me.
I am sick, and tired more than any thrall
Upon the woodstacks working wearily.

And shall I take,
The last dear fuel and heap it on my soul
Til I rouse my will like a fire to consume,
Their dross of indifference and burn the scroll
Of their insults in punishment? - I will not!
I will not waste myself to embers for them
Not all for them shall the fires of my life be hot,
For myself a heap of ashes of weariness, till sleep
Shall I have raked the embers clear: I will keep
Some of my strength for myself, for if I should sell
It all for them, I should hate them -
I will sit and wait for the bell.

Afternoon in School DH Lawrence