I saw his name on the seating chart. Nah. Has it really been two years...?
I was covering a chemistry class, which means sophomores and juniors. But Oscar was just in the 8th grade, wasn't he?
Apparently not. I checked the class roster. He's in the 10th grade now.
Oscar... I vividly recall his 6th period math class from 8th grade. He was one of the challenging ones. He wouldn't sit still. He wouldn't do his work. He was a perpetual motion machine. I remember bellowing his name repeatedly to little effect.
(I went looking in my archives to see if I had written about him before. I hadn't.)
I was dreading seeing him again.
He arrived along with 1st period, and...
He sat in his assigned seat with no prompting. He did his work. If his name hadn't jarred unpleasant memories, I probably wouldn't have noticed him.
The assignment was of the due-at-the-end-of-the-period variety. Guess who came in at lunch to finish it?
When I say that some of them grow out of the crazy, I mean it. Case in point. Oscar grew up and mellowed.