Recollections
Several days ago a young man was jogging and was hit by a car. It was all a terrible accident. But this time I knew the young man. He had been a student in my class for three years. We label students in school—the high achievers, the athletes, the socially popular, the doers and the movers.
Frankie didn't fit neatly into any one category. He saw the world differently. While others made easy conversation he was awkward in groups, while others could interpret and analyze information —his world was more concrete. Making eye contact was something he learned. He had a sense of humor and a willingness to keep at a task until he nailed it.
The photo is of an optical illusion created by a series of glass bottles. It is difficult to know the numeric difference between actual bottles and real bottles..Frankie's ability to do puzzles was phenomenal. He once solved a wood puzzle that had baffled my home room and a number of teachers—and once having completed the task he could replicate it over and over.
On Friday afternoons I played a word game with a small group of students. If not for Taylor's incredible luck drawing the right combination of cards to make words, Frankie might have won all hands. Frankie was the one who convinced me to read a horror book, watch a wrestling match because he wanted to write a paper about wrestling. The first time his dad took Frankie and a friend to see a match he told me in precise detail about every match, every garment, all the audience reactions—and when he left the house, how long it took to get there and when they returned.
I loved watching him grow and eventually get into all mainstream classes with some support. At the end of the eighth grade I suggested to his parents that I thought that the vocational school might be a better choice than the academic high school—but Frankie wanted the high school because that's where his friends planned to go and he wanted to join the wrestling team.
Not only did he join the wrestling team and begin to win, he won a state championship in his weight class. Two weeks ago I read about his season : 24 wins—1 loss and he was co-captain of the team. Sunday I learned that he had been accepted to college.
When I attended the wake Sunday afternoon I waited on line for forty minutes. Wrestling teams from all over the state were there to pay their respect. Inside dozens of flower arrangements from teams.
I finally reached the family and Frankie's father grabbed hold of my hand, "Oh you would have been so proud of Frankie. I know you were worried about how he would do in high school. He was so successful. And he was accepted in college."
"I was proud of Frankie," I said. "This is so incredible—all these people."
A life ended too soon. Way too soon.
Frankie didn't fit neatly into any one category. He saw the world differently. While others made easy conversation he was awkward in groups, while others could interpret and analyze information —his world was more concrete. Making eye contact was something he learned. He had a sense of humor and a willingness to keep at a task until he nailed it.
The photo is of an optical illusion created by a series of glass bottles. It is difficult to know the numeric difference between actual bottles and real bottles..Frankie's ability to do puzzles was phenomenal. He once solved a wood puzzle that had baffled my home room and a number of teachers—and once having completed the task he could replicate it over and over.
On Friday afternoons I played a word game with a small group of students. If not for Taylor's incredible luck drawing the right combination of cards to make words, Frankie might have won all hands. Frankie was the one who convinced me to read a horror book, watch a wrestling match because he wanted to write a paper about wrestling. The first time his dad took Frankie and a friend to see a match he told me in precise detail about every match, every garment, all the audience reactions—and when he left the house, how long it took to get there and when they returned.
I loved watching him grow and eventually get into all mainstream classes with some support. At the end of the eighth grade I suggested to his parents that I thought that the vocational school might be a better choice than the academic high school—but Frankie wanted the high school because that's where his friends planned to go and he wanted to join the wrestling team.
Not only did he join the wrestling team and begin to win, he won a state championship in his weight class. Two weeks ago I read about his season : 24 wins—1 loss and he was co-captain of the team. Sunday I learned that he had been accepted to college.
When I attended the wake Sunday afternoon I waited on line for forty minutes. Wrestling teams from all over the state were there to pay their respect. Inside dozens of flower arrangements from teams.
I finally reached the family and Frankie's father grabbed hold of my hand, "Oh you would have been so proud of Frankie. I know you were worried about how he would do in high school. He was so successful. And he was accepted in college."
"I was proud of Frankie," I said. "This is so incredible—all these people."
A life ended too soon. Way too soon.
1 Comments:
I started to cry while reading this. How sad for Frankie to leave this world in that way, at his young age.
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