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GREENSBORO — Balancing a box and an armload of books early Wednesday morning, Luke Neal makes his way down the nearly empty corridor of Aycock Middle School, his heart pounding.

“Glad you’re back, Mr. Neal,” shouts eighth-grader Myia Peterman, a big smile on her face.

This is the day that Neal, known for his engaging teaching style, reclaims Room 109 after spending the past few months fighting for his life.

“What a way to begin the second semester, dude,” eighth-grade science teacher Vaughan Olinger gushes, giving Neal a fist pound.

Neal, 28, had fought to prove he was well enough to get his classroom back.

Midway through his first class Wednesday, the N.C. A&T graduate noticed his hands trembling.

“I’m shaking quite a bit — I didn’t take my meds,” he says.

Neal, who swallows a handful of pills, continues to fight liver failure from a transplant two years ago after his own failed. He had been away since September, when a biopsy revealed extensive liver damage. Doctors tried various treatments over the next month — including rabbit serum.

Eventually, they stabilized his liver, taking it from the worst level of rejection to midrange.

Co-workers donated sick leave and trekked to UNC Hospitals in Chapel Hill to lift his spirits. They brought cards and letters from students and others.

At first, the school hired substitutes. Later, his students moved to other classes.

“I’ve heard some surprising things (from students), like their family prays for me every night,” says Neal, who was wiped out financially because of costs not covered by insurance and the co-payments on post-transplant drugs.

After a News & Record story on his condition, current and former parents at Aycock set up a fund to help with day-to-day expenses. His barber at Cutz Inc. put up a sign, and over a few months, the shop raised more than $400 from customers.

Even while away, Neal posted video clips of vocabulary words for his students, giving them a view of his seemingly deteriorating condition. After Christmas, his doctors let him return to school for brief periods to tutor and work with small groups of students.

Recently, his doctors lowered the potency of some of the 30-plus pills he takes each day. His liver problems have spurred other medical issues, but he refuses to let them get in the way of his coming to work where he’s on a modified schedule. He has two classes of his own and co-teaches two others.

“I’m trying not to overdo it — I’d have a lot of people fussing at me,” he says. “But I live for this. I never stopped believing this day could come.”

The more he taught Wednesday, the more energized he became.

He divided his second-period class into smaller groups and told them to come up with group names — “Billion Dolla Boys” was one — and special handshakes.

Each group then deliberated on its own mission statement.

“Maybe ... 'How we are going to get a 4 (proficiency) on our end-of-grade tests?’ ” Shaniyah Clark offers.

Neal got their attention and got them to help each other out.

“He’s something else,” whispers Principal Valerie Akins, who has stopped by.

It was Akins who persuaded Neal to move up this year from sixth-grade language arts to include an all-boys eighth-grade language arts class that he also mentors, called the Cool Dude Academy.

“He likes having his class and having them in his learning environment,” Akins says.

Inside the classroom, a digital sign that Neal programmed flashes “Cool Dude Academy.” Strings of lights and greenery adorn the walls. Books — from titles by J.R.R. Tolkien to “Nice Dreads” about self-acceptance — cram every available space.

“He’s different,” says Griffin Pyle, a student in the Cool Dude Academy. “He has his own way of teaching and it sticks.”

Growing up in a tough environment with a mother who valued books, Neal says he can relate to the experiences of some of his students, but he’s a stickler for discipline.

“Think before you speak,” he admonishes one kid, who accidentally lets a bad word slip in a high-spirited presentation.

Every student who comes in after Neal shuts the door must sign the tardy book. That has consequences, such as in-school suspension.

During a class change, he is ambushed by a group of students who weren’t put back in one of his classes.

“There’s nothing I can do,” he tells them.

Neal isn’t content just to be back at school.

He held the first meeting of Aycock’s Roller Coaster Chicken Club, which reflects his own interests and those of students whom he promised a club at the beginning of the year.

“I got in the car with a smile,” Neal says at the end of the day. “It was a great feeling.”

Contact Nancy McLaughlin at 373-7049 or nancy.mclaughlin@news-record.com