SMITH HILL — A girl in an elementary grade on Smith Hill has told her teachers, on several occasions, that she has nine point something fingers, rounded up to ten. Asked how many days are in a month, she has said three point something, times three point something, times three point something. She has said this more than once, and she has said it the same way each time.

Her teachers are alarmed. A meeting was held. Her pediatrician was consulted. The question before the adults, as one of them put it, is whether this is remedial or medication, or both.

The Gazette was not invited to the meeting but has done the arithmetic.

Nine point something, rounded up, is ten. She has ten fingers. On this point the student and the adults agree, and the disagreement is entirely about the route.

Three point something, cubed. The Gazette tried three point one, which gives twenty-nine point seven nine one. Three point one four gives thirty point nine five nine. Three point one four one six gives thirty-one point oh oh six. Seven of the twelve months have thirty-one days, including the one this paper is dated. The student is not wrong. She is, if anything, more precise than the calendar.

What the adults have not noticed, and what the Gazette noticed on the walk home, is that the two figures are the same figure. Nine point something is one number multiplied by itself. Three point something, three times, is the same number multiplied by itself again. The girl is not confused about fingers or months. She is counting everything in one unit. It is a unit her teachers know. She has not said which one it is, and nobody has asked.

She has also said that a year is three point something times ten million seconds, which it is, to within half a percent. This was entered into the record as a further cause for concern.

On the playground she has told the recess monitor that everything falls at nine point something — the same nine point something as her fingers — and that this is not an accident. The recess monitor reported it.

Things fall, in Providence, at nine point eight meters per second, each second. Nine point something. The reason it is her fingers' number is a piece of history rather than a coincidence: when the meter was being settled, it was very nearly defined as the length of a pendulum that takes one second to swing across. A pendulum's period is twice her number, times the square root of its length over the rate things fall. Set the length at one meter and the swing at one second each way, and the rate things fall comes out as her number, squared. The meter was defined by the Earth instead, in the end, but the two lengths were close enough that the near-equality survived, and it is hanging from every swing set in the city. The student has not explained any of this. She has not been asked to.

If it is remedial, it is not clear in which direction.

The meeting adjourned without a decision. Asked by the Gazette how many fingers she had, the girl held up both hands and said, "Nine point eight seven. Look." The Gazette looked. There were ten.