I catch myself with a corner of my mouth tugging into an impressed smirk. Because I am impressed, and also, for the first time, I have a student who thinks beyond what is written in the books. It is exactly what is needed in my field.
“Which is why there is an actual debate around the approach of Cognitive Behavioral Therapy regarding traumatic or depressive expressions. It is well worth exploring later. Because right now, I believe the basics are needed first for the rest of the class. I don’t know how you have all the knowledge you have, but?—“
“Eidetic memory,” she interrupts me. “I remember everything I read.”
She uses literate language. Even with a very rare eidetic memory, she must have read it somewhere. I have to say, I am intrigued. But I also have rules.
“I generally don’t allow students to interrupt me,” I say, “Unless of course, it is in an emergency.”
She stares at me with challenging eyes as she leans slowly back in her seat. And it dawns on me, she might not be the rich girl I thought she was after all. She might be a rebel, one who thinks differently, questions what has been set. Like me. Only I would always listen to those with authority; my parents have taught me so, and I would never disobey them.
I continue with my lecture, starting with the basics of Neuroanatomy, Neurophysiology, Hormones of the Brain, and Behavioral Chemistry. Four fully filled boards later, every other student looks like their brains are on fire, while the girl just sits there, staring as always. She hasn’t copied a single thing, but if I had a photographic memory, I wouldn’t either.
“Alright, that’s it for today, we’ll see each other on Tuesday next week. Make sure to get familiar with the neuroanatomy so you understand what I am referencing from here on forth. Miss Degard, a word.”
There is an agreeing hum, and everyone packs their bags. I wait for all of them to leave, and so does she.
When the last of the students is gone, I turn to her.
“You seem awfully well prepared for a freshman,” I say in a hopefully friendly enough tone to make it not sound like an accusation.
“I am always prepared,” she says.
“What are your plans for your life? Where do you see yourself?”
It is a typical question, and yet, the moment I asked it, something in her changed. The very self-aware body language switches; she tenses and averts her eyes. But what I find more interesting is the way her jaw clenches. It is an emotionally loaded topic. And the picture I get of her fills.
I don’t break the silence and sit next to her in the row, a seat between us.
“I don’t know,” she finally says. “The only thing I do know is that I have always wanted to understand the human mind.”
“What was the initial moment?” I ask and watch her closely.
She shifts uncomfortably in her seat, and her head twitches in the slightest way, telling me she might be more troubled than I have given her credit for.
“My father,” she says finally without any further explanation, and I don’t deem it necessary to ask. She stares out of the window.
“I have a lot to teach,” I say, and get up to get my bag. “I also have a very interesting research project that is in dire need of someone capable.”
She turns her gaze to me.
“Are you offering?” she asks in her direct manner, and it’s as if she has snapped into a different personality. A protective layer.
“Describe the anterior pituitary hormone release to me,” I say.
“Neuroendocrine cell bodies in the hypothalamus produce releasing hormones, which are released from the axons that terminate on the portal system and travel to the anterior pituitary. The hormone-producing cells respond to the hypothalamic release by changing the secretion of their tropic hormones. Those are released into the bloodstream to regulate endocrine glands throughout the body. Reactions are alwayssubject to circulating messages and synchronous inputs, which brings us back to the topic of this course.”
A smirk appears on my face because she does indeed have an eidetic memory. I have never encountered someone who has, which makes her even more interesting for my research.
“I believe I am offering. My office, tomorrow at 3 p.m.”
5
AMELIE
PLAYLIST: WHAT IM HERE FOR – JORDAN SUASTE
Iwatch Jane leave the lecture room, while I remain seated, a feeling crawling up on me that she knows too much about me already. I have been stupid to think I could fool her. She asked exactly the question I couldn’t answer. I know she realized there is something about me that doesn’t add up.
