should i go or should i stay?

Well the secret is out. The Peace Corps and I are deciding whether it is best for me and my mission here to move to another city. And it is turning out to be one of the hardest decisions of my life.
On one hand, the reasons to leave seem fairly straight-forward. Since I have arrived, the description of my job has done a 180. I originally came here to team-teach with a Bulgarian counterpart with a school director who was very excited to have me. My purpose was to be a native speaker to help the students with speaking, pronunciation, and general practice along with transfering skills to Bulgarian counterpart. Shortly before the school year started, however, my counterpart left for a better job and my director was replaced by another. And while two replacement teachers have come (and subsequently left after a few days), I am now teaching alone.
My kids are crazy. Literally. A month ago a student came in with a pizza and sat down in my class, all ready to wash it down with a bottle of beer. Yesterday I took a knife away from a student. He was brandishing it at other students and I decided to draw a line at open weapons in my class. Only one of my four classes as any functional use of English and one class is so unmotivated, some students refused to draw a picture in class. One girl opted to take a failing grade rather than draw.
And the working conditions are a little less than ideal. We have just lost two beloved teachers because the 13th class refuses to come to class. My colleagues hate the new director and refuse to work with her. I am caught in the middle, I feel weird going to the director with a problem even though at times I know I have to.
But on the other hand, the people in my town are awesome. My town is full of caring people who love me. My neighbors always have a kind word for me and I am always getting invited over for a meal or a coffee or rakia. People in town talk to me and invite in for a coffee or give me free body spray. I have a class of prisoners who think I am pretty cool though a little odd.
And things keep happening here that make me think that maybe I am meant to be here. I don’t want to sound overly God-preachy, but I feel like I am being watched over here. Take yesterday for instance. Yesterday was one of the hardest days I have had here. I gave a test first period which is a nightmare. Then I had two classes with 7th grade (the ones who won’t draw), and 8th and 11th, who are usually acceptable, were loopy. I also got a Christmas package from my mom. It had my presents and peanut butter cookies. And as I walked back to my apartment, eating peanut butter cookies and missing home, I started tearing up. I missed my family, my friends and the thought of Christmas in New Hampshire. I haven’t felt closer to packing it all in than I did then. I promised myself that I wouldn’t cry on the street but wait until I got to my apartment. Then something happened. One of my students came up and started talking to me. This was the same student who busted into one of my classes with a giant long balloon between his legs and pretended to whack off. But yesterday he was a different person. He was polite, interested about America and me. I arrived at home and forgot about crying.
I got lunch and headed into town to make some Xeroxes for my bratty 8th graders. When I got to the bookstore-café, I decided to buy some tinsel and wrapping paper. I talked with the cashier. And the women in the café, overheard us and invited me for some coffee. After an hour of her talking way too fast and me smiling and saying stupid stuff like "really?", "uh-huh," "then what did she say?", she promised to bring in some canned fruits for me today. After I metioned that I love pumpkin banitsa (traditional Bulgarian pastry), she also promised to bring in some of that too. I went home and called a neighbor, and asked to come over and share my cookies with them. She enthusiastically said yes, and I spent the rest of the night drinking wine, watching Big Brother, talking about Chalga singers and participating in various feats of strength. I would like to note here that I won the push up competition with 60 at one time.
I went home, a little sweatier, a little more drunk but a lot happier. And that’s how it usually ends up. The school day goes miserably. I feel like a babysitter, like a failure, like I am wasting my time teaching kids who don’t want to learn. I think how I could better serve Bulgaria, teaching at a language school where my native understanding of English could be more beneficial. Instead I continue to teach kids basic English even though any Bulgarian teacher could that as well as, or even better, than me. But by the end of each day something happens that makes me forget all that and makes me feel like I have friends and even family here. My close friend Desi told me that I will prosper here and I am taking strength in her words and her faith. I wonder, however, if me prospering is enough. Sure I can make a lot of friends and maybe, just maybe find a way to not go crazy. But would it be better for my mission if I was somewhere else where I could use my strengths as a native speaker and actually participate in some skills transfer with Bulgarian colleagues? I don’t know the answer to that. And until I do, I will continue to mull this decision over.