Donald Hiscock | Articles | The Guardian
I don't know whether it's a sign of ageing or a
symptom of stress, but I'm finding it difficult to remember things lately.
I am desperately in need of some help in the old memory department. Actually,
have I told you all this before?
I struggle to remember student names. This is particularly
annoying, since I take at least three months of each academic year trying
to learn them in the first place. If they all wore name badges like I have
to, then it would be a lot easier. I am a great advocate of name badges. It's
not just about others being able to work out who you are at a glance. It helps
sometimes when I am asked that potentially awkward question on the phone:
"What did you say your name was?"
I do try hard to link a student's name with some
aspect of their appearance. Tattoo Tony, Dreadlocks Darren or Texting Tina,
for example. But this only really works if they never change their clothes
or change position in the classroom. And it all falls apart anyway when someone
leaves and another one who looks identical joins late.
I'm pretty sure that the students have cottoned
on to their lecturer's absentmindedness. It helps them when confronted with
the request for an assignment. They always sound so convincing when they tell
me that only last week I granted them all an extension.
They have become expert in their mind games. They
ask me whether I have marked the work that they submitted the week before.
They know that I can't keep saying "I don't remember that work",
so I end up giving them an excuse as to why I haven't marked the work I never
set and therefore they never handed in. I think.
But I won't be exploited anymore. I have started
to write myself Post-it notes to stick in my diary. Well, I will be doing
once I remember where I left my diary. For example, I have a note here somewhere
on my desk about a student who has managed to convince me all year that he
is a German exchange student and was only in class to learn English. I did
what I feel everyone does in these situations. I ignored him. I can't remember
his name and never bothered him for work. Here's the note. It says: "Don't
trust the one who is German."
What was I saying? Oh yes, about memory. Hang on,
I'd better write that down: "Remember to remember." It's probably
not as bad as I am making out. I know where the canteen is and I haven't yet
forgotten to turn up to college. In fact when I am away from this place I
don't have a problem with remembering anything, except when it's my turn to
buy a round of drinks in the pub. Or so I am told.
I'll settle for my lapses in recall as being attributable
to workplace stress. After all, there's just too much to remember. Even my
computer has started to announce that it suffers from insufficient memory.
We're both overloaded with data.
I don't know whether it's a sign of ageing or a symptom of stress, but I'm finding it difficult to remember things lately. Hang on... have I told you all this before?
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