Audrey(Marla) I’ve had many interesting students, but Audrey Hamilton is one that I will never forget. She joined my fourth-grade class one week after school started. “Class, this is Audrey,” I said. The class gave the expected “Hi, Audrey” in that classroom unison that is so well-known in schools.

Audrey was wearing a denim skirt and a white shirt. She wore bright socks in blue and yellow plaid. Her dark hair was long and straight, and either she or her mother had attentively placed an oversized bright blue bow on one side. I would soon learn that the huge bow was her trademark, something she wore every single day. “Hello,” she answered with a friendly smile. Her voice was clear and confident.

I showed her where to sit and we got started with the day. Audrey quickly settled in with her classmates. I was blessed with a particularly good group that year. They listened well, and they (for the most part, anyway) got along with each other. With the addition of Audrey, I had nine girls and nine boys. It’s not every year that I have such a small class, and that might be the only year that it was evenly divided.

But even with those wonderful conditions, Audrey stood out. I didn't notice it immediately. The first several times that she answered correctly when I called on her, I assumed that she’d been paying close attention. My questions, after all, weren’t terribly difficult. But a few months into the year, I realized that every worksheet and every quiz and every test had been flawless. I’d had very bright students before, but I’d not had a student who answered perfectly in class and received perfect grades. So, I watched a bit closer.

Audrey continued to be her vibrant, friendly self. I called her to my desk a few times during the work time and offered more challenging work. She succeeded. One day, one of the lunchroom supervisors came in to tell me that she loved listening to Audrey tell stories to the other girls. “She’s a natural storyteller. So advanced! And she knows how to pause for effect. That’s impressive!”

“Yes,” I answered. “She’s something, isn’t she?” I went back to my grading; I wanted to finish before the students returned from recess. The rest of the day went as usual, except for a storm that arrived. We had to have our last recess inside. We played a few games as a class and then I let them have free choice for the last ten minutes.

It was later that night as I was folding laundry that I found myself trying to catch a thought that had been in the back of my mind. It was something that I had heard. Finally, I realized what it was. “She knows how to pause for effect.” That was it. That was what was bugging me. I stopped folding my husband’s pants and thought. Did Audrey do that? Yes. Yes, she did! It had become so normal that I didn’t notice it so much, but Audrey always paused just a little before she spoke. It wasn’t a bad thing. And she wasn’t the only one. A lot of my students took their time to think a bit before answering. Sometimes after that moment of thinking, they said, “Oh, I just forgot.” But Audrey never said that. Audrey always, without fail, provided the correct answer.
How? How was that possible?


“It’s almost as if she isn’t real,” I said one day in the teacher’s lounge.

“Yes, we have a robot in our school,” joked Ms. Stevens, the art teacher.

Mrs. Robertson, the music teacher, said, “Now that would be amazing.”

“Have either of you ever heard her give an incorrect answer?” I asked. They both shook their heads.

“It’s just so strange. Even the brightest kids get something wrong. How does she always know what to say?”

“Maybe it has something to do with her fabulous bows,” suggested Ms. Stevens, smiling.

“Right,” I laughed. “If so, I want one.”

“Nah. You wouldn’t look as cute as she does,” said Mrs. Robertson.

I laughed. “That’s true.” I picked up the trash from my lunch and tossed it in the trash can. “See you two ladies later,” I said.

Back in the classroom, I found myself thinking about what Ms. Stevens had said. I tried not to stare at Audrey’s bow. I assigned some quiet reading and spent the time prepping for the next day’s Interesting Article, a fun activity we did every Friday.

The Interesting Article was about spyware. Hidden cameras. Hidden earpieces. I read. I read some more. And then I thought about my super student.

That night I spent far more time than I should have researching different types of spyware. I learned that it was quite possible. Audrey always wore her hair down, covering her ears. She could wear an earpiece without anyone seeing. The bow…was it a distraction? Or did it hold a camera? If it did, how could I possibly find out? I certainly couldn’t yank it off of her head!

The next day went as usual. That afternoon we read the Interesting Article. It took great effort not to look directly at Audrey during this time. I called on students to read, one by one, as I usually did. Before it was Audrey’s turn to read, she raised her hand. She looked very pale. “May I please go to the nurse?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said. I handed her a pass. She didn’t look at me as she took it. I watched as she walked to the door. Her usual bouncy stride was gone. She walked slowly, with her eyes looking at the floor.

That was the last time I saw Audrey Hamilton. Her parents called the school the following Monday and explained that due to a family emergency, they had to move. Her father came to the school to get Audrey’s belongings. He thanked me and then handed me a paper before he left. It was from Audrey. It was a picture she’d drawn of her entire class and of me. She had included the big bow in her hair. It was an adorable drawing. And it may have been just my imagination, but it looked as if she’d drawn something in the bow. Were her parents helping her throughout the day, supplying answers for her? Was it only a coincidence that she left when she did? I suppose I will never know.

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