Memory is a tricky thing. Sometimes we remember events in great detail but every detail can be wrong. For example, I have a very distinct memory of how I learned of President Kennedy's assassination: I was five years old and visiting the house of my best friend's maternal grandmother. Mrs. Laughlin, standing in her warm, cozy kitchen and smelling of freshly baked bread, bent down towards my friend Beth and me and exclaimed, "Oh, children! The president has been shot! He is dead!" The only problem with this story is that when I was discussing it years later with my mother, she said, "You couldn't have heard that from Mrs. Laughlin. We were still living in the parsonage and hadn't even moved out to the Garzelli's property. You didn't even know Beth."
That stunned me. I accepted the logic of my mother's memory and the timeline of our stay in Waynesville, but that acceptance in no way affected the memory. That's still the memory I have of JFK's death, although it must have been my friend Beth's memory, not mine. But I have definitely appropriated it. So with the perfidy of memory in mind, another beautiful little memory sprang to my mind Saturday afternoon as I was preparing a little Valentine's treat for my friends. I'm fairly certain this is true.
I always use green ink to correct student's work. I have always hated red marks; they look so angry and accusatory. So I adopted green, which represents gentle correction and encouragement of growth. But even before I articulated the reasons why I was drawn to green ink, I liked it. Just liked it and didn't really know why. But as I was writing some cards Saturday, I suddenly remembered a story I had read in elementary school.
A short story, it told of a young red-headed girl who was very attractive but didn't believe it. She thought her red hair made her look different and she was embarrassed by it. But to her father, she was a princess and he always told her how lovely she looked. Of course, she didn't believe him because he was her father and he had to say things like that. When Valentine's Day came around and there was the obligatory exchange of valentine cards in the classroom, the girl discovered a valentine written in green ink from 'a secret admirer.' That one little card was enough to make her reassess her looks, and she began to glow with confidence. She had a secret admirer! She was beautiful! Just like her father said. I believe the story ended with the father and mother exchanging knowing looks as the girl happily took off for a party she would never have gone to before the secret card incident. And after she left, the father re-capped his green pen and tucked it well away in his desk drawer.
The chemistry of attraction is definitely a mystery, and one to be celebrated in a variety of ways this week; but at least the little mystery of my secret admiration of green ink has been solved. And that's satisfying enough.
That stunned me. I accepted the logic of my mother's memory and the timeline of our stay in Waynesville, but that acceptance in no way affected the memory. That's still the memory I have of JFK's death, although it must have been my friend Beth's memory, not mine. But I have definitely appropriated it. So with the perfidy of memory in mind, another beautiful little memory sprang to my mind Saturday afternoon as I was preparing a little Valentine's treat for my friends. I'm fairly certain this is true.
I always use green ink to correct student's work. I have always hated red marks; they look so angry and accusatory. So I adopted green, which represents gentle correction and encouragement of growth. But even before I articulated the reasons why I was drawn to green ink, I liked it. Just liked it and didn't really know why. But as I was writing some cards Saturday, I suddenly remembered a story I had read in elementary school.
A short story, it told of a young red-headed girl who was very attractive but didn't believe it. She thought her red hair made her look different and she was embarrassed by it. But to her father, she was a princess and he always told her how lovely she looked. Of course, she didn't believe him because he was her father and he had to say things like that. When Valentine's Day came around and there was the obligatory exchange of valentine cards in the classroom, the girl discovered a valentine written in green ink from 'a secret admirer.' That one little card was enough to make her reassess her looks, and she began to glow with confidence. She had a secret admirer! She was beautiful! Just like her father said. I believe the story ended with the father and mother exchanging knowing looks as the girl happily took off for a party she would never have gone to before the secret card incident. And after she left, the father re-capped his green pen and tucked it well away in his desk drawer.
No comments:
Post a Comment