Please save me from guessing game; Say your name and let’s catch up

<p>The woman sitting nearby asked me if I used to teach. I said I once taught at the middle school. “I thought I recognized your voice,” She said. She mis-remembered me as teaching math, but I explained that it was my late wife who was the math teacher. I taught English. “Oh, yeah, English,” she said, and we both smiled at each other. I had already gone into detective mode.</p><p>I studied her face for a clue: an adult version of a pre-teen smile, a familiar jaw line or a recognizable eyebrow I could latch onto as a memory trigger. I was relieved to think her memory also had faded a bit, maybe I could use that to my advantage. She saved me from a bumbling strategy by introducing herself. Thank you.</p><p>I often get a twinge of anxiety when I am confronted by a former student. I loved my job and thoroughly enjoyed my students but I have this memory problem; namely, I have poor name recall. Living in the same area where I taught for 30 years means I often run into former students. It can happen anywhere: a bookstore or a restaurant; the county fair or a music venue; while jogging a city trail or walking down the street. I had hundreds of students over the years, so the odds of our paths crossing is pretty high.</p><p>Sometimes I am blessed as I was with this most recent encounter and the former student will offer up his or her name. Once in a while they will be working at a place where name tags are part of the uniform, so that saves me. Sometimes I will hear someone call them by name before we actually talk. But other times I am adrift in a sea of lost memory grasping for any life-saving clue that surfaces to which I can cling.</p><p>I guess the thing I dread most is when they walk right up to me smiling, staring into my eyes and say, “Hi, Mr. Knight. Do you remember me?” I’ve gotten better at just fessing up: “I remember your face, I mean, you look familiar but I can’t bring your name to mind.” Most of the the time the students are gracious about it.</p><p>But on rare occasions they will make me play a guessing game. “I sat in the back of class. I ran around with so-and-so. I had Justin Bieber stickers on my notebook. I wrote an essay on Bill Gates.” Not much help usually. I don’t know, maybe they are paying me back for something that happened in class. In most of those confrontations, I eventually concede and admit I don’t know their name.</p><p>It must be that I don’t have the name-recall gene. I was probably born this way. I remember faces and features pretty well, I think. I have tried those memory tricks where you are supposed to make an association with the name and some unusual image or object—“Her name is Melody, so I’ll think of sheet music when I see her”— but those connections never seemed to stick.</p><p>I do remember working with a few teachers who had amazing name recall. As the yearbook advisor I dealt with group photos of clubs and teams, and I would seek out these memory magicians for their help in identification. They recognized more students than some of the coaches and sponsors did. What a gift.</p><p>When I can’t remember a former student’s name, I feel as if I have failed a little, somehow. I hope they don’t take it personally. It is a true pleasure when students come up to talk to me. I’ll bet most former teachers feel the same way. I hope the students remember me as a good teacher and caring person. Okay, maybe as a good, caring teacher with a slight memory problem. I could live with that.</p>