How big could an eighth grader be? Willie towered over me. He’d been held back twice. Held back, no one flunked anymore. He wasn’t trouble. He simply didn’t do anything. Didn’t talk. Didn’t study. Didn’t care.
I called his parents and requested a conference. I planned to ask if there were ways we could work together to help improve Willie’s grades and prepare him for high school.
His dad showed up a few days later. “How long does Willie have to waste his time here before he can quit and make himself useful on the farm?” he asked.
Got my answer.