She could peg a kid just behind the ear with a stub of chalk from fifty paces.

If you misbehaved in her classroom, she knew it before you even thought about doing it and stopped you dead in your potentially insubordinate tracks.  Like dogs smell fear, she could smell a kid attempting to engage in “shenanigans,” as she called them.  She could tell whose voice spoke out of turn or who passed the note across the aisle even with her back turned to write the day’s penmanship lesson on the board.  She had eyes in the back of her head and she kept them hidden under her royal blue habit.

Her name was Sister Francine.

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