Final stretch of the semester, running on fumes

It happens pretty much every semester, as Dear Husband pointed out to me this morning when I said I just wanted the semester to be over already. I start out the semester with plenty of energy to form new minds, until we reach the last few weeks when I start to feel depressed about their lack of commitment to learning, their lack of understanding, and how utterly horrible it is to grade 3000 final exams written by undergrads who may or may not understand that physics requires math, and therefore can't be fluffed out of.

Basically, I feel like this:

Can we be done now?

It's not a place I like to be. And usually, this feeling occurs between teaching. Once I'm actually in the classroom, the students  remind me why I love teaching, I get in the zone and I will happily teach for the hour+ that I'm given. 

But this semester, three out of four of my classes are duds.  The students are disengaged with learning. They don't ask questions. Lower admissions requirements on the part of the university mean that the level of mathematical literacy is astoundingly lower than I'm used to. Because we reinstated weekly in-class paper quizzes instead of online weekly quizzes we did last semester, I have to deal with a whole crop of students who never learned the importance of drawing diagrams for every problem, even if they can solve it without, and who fight me constantly for the 2-3 points I dock if they don't draw one. In the past, students have looked at it as "woohoo, 2-3 free points, yeah!"; this semester, I was told I was "teaching my philosophy, not physics". Nevermind that this is standard and still required of problems well into grad school. 

One class is not like this. One class is wonderful and a joy to teach.

But it's hard to make up for the three classes where I walk in and get less energized because the students just aren't there, mentally. 

In short, I can't wait for the semester to be over.