Summary: So many children had passed through her class in the small Primary School of Little Whinging, and Miss. Morrison liked to think she remembered them all. The shy ones, who hid behind their mothers legs or curled up in their fathers protective arms; the boisterous ones, who ran in small, never ending circles with boundless energy. The smart ones and the ones who struggled, sometimes bravely and sometimes with tears and tantrums. The short ones and the tall ones, the sweet and the mischievous; they were all special to her, in their own way, and they all earned themselves a special place in her memories. All of them, that is, except for one.