Recall, Remembrance, Reminisce
Different people remember things differently, and you’ll not get any two people to remember anything the same, whether they were there or not. ~Neil Gaiman
Recently, I stopped by to visit a former principal. She was the very best boss I ever worked for, and with my employment record, that's saying something.
I’ll call her Sue. She had the insight to overlook district policy when it did not benefit the students, at the same time she was able to manipulate the system to get whatever the students required to be successful. Sounds like common sense, but not everyone has it.
After an hour of reminiscing about the crazy events that happened on my watch, Sue recalled, “I hired you because you had a great personality and I knew you would get along with at-risk kids.”
I know this statement to be false.
She hired me because out of four applicants, I was the only one who had solid references that checked out, therefore I could probably pass a polygraph test. It was the only time in my career I underwent a daunting clearance investigation required to work with kids in juvenile detention, and “big boy” jail.
My recollection is, even though I’d never worked in the Department of Corrections, Sue hired me out of desperation to fill a vacancy.
Sue was correct about one thing, I had a heart for the native kids attending the accommodation school to earn their high school diplomas. Most of them were finished with drugs, gangs, bullying, and the bullshit they had experienced in traditional public school. Many of them had been adjudicated and some were parents of young children. All of them were anxious to complete this academic hurtle and move on with life.
We did everything possible to make it happen. No matter what the circumstance, Sue extended free reign to ensure my special education students succeeded in graduating from high school.
Data demonstrates time and time again, if one child in the family stays in school, the younger kids will follow suit.
I loved the job in that district. My remembrance is, I made a difference. I have no idea if that is true or not.
Once, my former spouse and I witnessed a car accident in front of our house. When the police came to investigate which driver was at fault, we couldn’t even agree on the color of the cars. He said, “A green car ran the stop sign.” As I reflected on the carnage, I couldn’t recall a green car at all. I saw a taupe and silver vehicle collide. The cop walked away scratching his head. This event is a perfect metaphor for our thirty-year marriage. My ex-husband and I saw everyday life vastly different, which made a conversation damn near impossible. Thus, we are no longer married.
According to Dr. Google, people often recall events differently, even if they both were present for the entire experience. When retrieving an episodic memory, observers combine people, places, and things into a specific event. The human brain can be affected by intense emotions, relevance of the event, repetition of the story, sleeping on it (dreaming), stress, and multitasking. FYI, it’s a proven fact that the human brain prefers to concentrate on one thing at a time.
Positive memories are able to improve a person’s mood and influence relationships with others. “…autobiographical memories serve an intimacy function in social relationships…” according to researchers, Alea & Buck, 2003.
As a personal example, positive memories do improve my mood and inspire me to call my friends on Maui. These people remind me of a time where I felt completely free and full of wonder. I remember seeing countless sunsets on the beach, stand up paddling on Sunday mornings and hearing church bells chiming in the distance, being at outrigger canoe team practice at five in the morning. A wave of gratitude washes over me as I write forgetting the difficult teaching situations, and financial hardships.
There is a real thing called the Mandela Effect. According to Medical News Today it refers to false memories. Most people don’t have perfect recall, and I am one of them. Memories can change with time, and with practice, and priming — which refers to being influenced by outside stimulus.
When someone's only evidence that an event happened is from their memory, is it possible that the event didn't happen at all?
When I was in the fifth grade I attended a Catholic School. The order of nuns, Sisters of Mercy, did not have a merciful bone between them. Sister Mary Monica hated children, but she particularly despised one of the boys in my class for being a typical fifth grader. I’ll call him Sam. He could make bird sounds come from various corners in the room. It drove her crazy. One day Sister Mary Monica accused Sam of stealing something. I can’t remember what the item was, but the consequences were dire.
Sam’s mother showed up in our classroom. She opened her purse and took out a leather belt. Sister Mary Monica wore an evil smirk as she invited Sam to come up to the front of the classroom. His mother asked him to bend over a desk and commenced to beat him on the buttocks with a leather strap in front of the entire fifth grade class.
This remembrance is seared into my brain for many reasons. The worst reason is I was relieved it was Sam being struck, and not me.
I have told this story many times, and most people are horrified.
Last summer, I attended my 50th class reunion and reconnected with a woman who had been a life long classmate and attended Catholic school with me. We reminisced about our shared experiences, and I quizzed her about Sam’s beating and Sister Mary Monica’s unrelenting cruelty toward him. Unbelievably this woman had no recall. NONE!
Why would I prevaricate such an event? To this day I can see the mother’s beehive hairdo and the sadness in her eyes as she whipped her child with a leather strap. I can see Sister Mary Monica’s long black whiskers twitching on her double chin. I can feel myself afraid to breathe, lest I be next in line as I was a pain in Sister Mary Monica’s rotund nun ass too.
Did this traumatic event really happen? Hell, yes. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.
Recall, remembrance, and reminiscing can be elusive when people try to retrieve events from their past. Unlike my butterfly visitor who does not recall her caterpillar memories, but only flutters in the now.
Butterflies are a symbol of endurance, change, and hope. I believe that is worth remembering.
