I'm in the office today for a thesis defense. Starting last Friday I have been out at the resort my family goes to each year for holiday fishing and playing in the water with my nephews, now three and six. Back Tuesday night, Wednesday and Thursday catching up on homelife errands and Elks Club responsibilities.
Today's thesis is by a student who started seven years ago and quit just before actually finishing, then returned after a two year hiatus. Much of the work is work she did in classes she took from me in 2001 and 2002. When she submitted the thesis I was surprised to see how easily I recognized the work and how well I remembered it.
I read about seven hundred student-authored essays a term. That extends to perhaps twenty thousand of them in my career so far. Yet all five of the essays that my student wrote for my classes four and five years ago I remembered clearly when I encountered them again last month.
I can't remember what I did this morning or what I'm supposed to do this evening, but I remember papers written five years ago by a dropout I haven't seen in three years. I remember picturing her in my mind as I read them the first time. I remember some of the things I thought about them and some of the things I considered telling her about them and whether this comment would be helpful or hurtful and whether I should have a conference with her about this particular stuff and just write out that particular stuff having to do with what she might do to improve the work. I remember thinking about what kind of voice I needed to have in my written responses to her. I remember thinking about her shy wit and personal reserve.
How do I remember this stuff? One student in thousands; five papers in many thousands. Yesterday I couldn't remember my neighbor's name. Sometimes I forget which road gets me to where I want to go, even though I took it just the previous week. I once forgot my brother's name for a minute. I often don't remember conversations I had the day before.
What's with my weird memory?
Today's thesis is by a student who started seven years ago and quit just before actually finishing, then returned after a two year hiatus. Much of the work is work she did in classes she took from me in 2001 and 2002. When she submitted the thesis I was surprised to see how easily I recognized the work and how well I remembered it.
I read about seven hundred student-authored essays a term. That extends to perhaps twenty thousand of them in my career so far. Yet all five of the essays that my student wrote for my classes four and five years ago I remembered clearly when I encountered them again last month.
I can't remember what I did this morning or what I'm supposed to do this evening, but I remember papers written five years ago by a dropout I haven't seen in three years. I remember picturing her in my mind as I read them the first time. I remember some of the things I thought about them and some of the things I considered telling her about them and whether this comment would be helpful or hurtful and whether I should have a conference with her about this particular stuff and just write out that particular stuff having to do with what she might do to improve the work. I remember thinking about what kind of voice I needed to have in my written responses to her. I remember thinking about her shy wit and personal reserve.
How do I remember this stuff? One student in thousands; five papers in many thousands. Yesterday I couldn't remember my neighbor's name. Sometimes I forget which road gets me to where I want to go, even though I took it just the previous week. I once forgot my brother's name for a minute. I often don't remember conversations I had the day before.
What's with my weird memory?
3 Comments:
Well, either she's a good writer or you're a good teacher.
But I suspect that it is both. I think you were made for your job--body, brain, and heart.
Peabody,
I once read that geniuses have memory issues as well; similar to those you describe. Perhaps you are a genius; after all, you constructed the WABAC machine.
I agree with Sharon and Jessie -- you are a superb, caring teacher who invokes the same in his students.
Sherman
I think that what the mind chooses to latch on to is amazing.
This sort of thing happens to me all the time and I have yet to figure it out.
I also agree w/sharon and jessie.
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