Every teacher has a handful of students they remember in vivid detail. This is a story about one of mine. Let’s call him Frankie.
He entered my classroom on Day 1 with the swagger of a 12-year-old who had his peers in the palm of his hand. Other boys snickered loyally at his hushed jokes; girls smiled in spite of themselves at his antics. Frankie was the kind of student who could either be my biggest ally or my worst enemy. I’d taught others like him before and knew what I was in for: a 180-day tug-of-war for sway of the class.
