Hermann Müllner, teacher, age 35

I don’t know that I can help you much, because I didn’t arrive here until the start of this school year. I was appointed to this school in early September. And there’s been so much to do, I haven’t yet had time to get to know the country people out here better.

I teach the Year Two children all subjects except Religious Instruction. Our parish priest Father Meissner teaches them that.

Little Maria-Anna, that was her real name, was in my class.

She was a quiet pupil, very quiet. Rather reluctant to speak up in class. Seemed a little dreamy. Not particularly good at spelling, stumbled over the words slightly when she read aloud. Arithmetic, yes, she was rather better at arithmetic. Otherwise nothing much about her struck me.

Her best friend, as far as I know, was Betty. Betty sat beside her. Now and then the girls whispered to each other in class, the way girls do with their friends. Girls always have a great deal to talk about, so their attention sometimes wanders.

But when I told them not to do it, they were quiet at once.

I noticed little Maria-Anna’s absence at once on the Saturday. That’s why I asked the rest of the class whether anyone knew where the child was. Unfortunately no one did. When she still didn’t show up for lessons on Monday, I made a note of it in the class register.

It was just the same as other school days. We said morning prayers at the beginning of lessons, as we do every day, and as always we remembered in our prayers those pupils who were absent because of illness.

That’s perfectly normal, we always do it; it’s nothing out of the ordinary. After all, at that point I still had no idea how important our prayers for little Maria-Anna were.

Sometimes pupils don’t turn up for school, but usually their parents write an excuse note afterward, or, if the child has a brother or sister at the school, then the note comes on the first day a boy or girl is absent, explaining why.

So I decided that if there was still no excuse note for the girl on Tuesday I’d cycle out to Tannöd and her grandparents’ farm. I was planning to go as soon as school was over that Tuesday, but then something happened to keep me here. Ever since I’ve been wondering whether maybe I ought to have cycled out earlier. But would that have helped little Maria-Anna? I don’t know.