When I was an elementary school teacher, there would be one student every year who knew all the answers—literally. After I asked a question, his—or hers—would be the first hand to shoot into the air. It would wiggle wildly, willing me to look in its direction. Its fingers would stretch desperately toward the ceiling. It was a flashing neon sign begging to be noticed. It wouldn’t be fair to let that one student answer every question, but it wouldn’t be fair to ignore that kind of enthusiasm, either. I would smile, nod, or wink at my genius, giving that “I know you know” acknowledgement before calling on another student—perhaps the one who sat in the back of the room and was often too shy to raise a hand. Everyone deserves a chance to shine.