Memory

I'm sure I've written about memory before, I think about it a lot! Maybe that is a reflection of my work in aging, memory is often the subject of research. Maybe it is a reflection of my experiences with individuals with Alzheimer's. Maybe it is a reflection of my own consideration of my memories.

I was listening to a program about memory and spirituality the other day on the NPR program Speaking of Faith (another one of my regular podcast downloads. I don't think of myself as a religious person, but someone who is interested in spirituality and the way in which we make sense of the world.) So, this program was asking "Is memory essential for a person's identity?" The interviews focused on using writing groups for people with early onset AD. (See my last entry for a tie-in!) Part of the discussion focused on the preservation of memory. Participants saw this as an opportunity to give their memories away, to pass them on to someone else for safekeeping. It is an interesting way to think about memory, that memories can be thought of as not having meaning if they are not shared and that they can live on after you through other people.

The other interesting ideas were that memory is a creative process. Recalling a memory means that different parts of the brain have to be activated. We remember words, sights, smells. In the recollection all of these are reconstituted to make "the memory." That is partly why we aren't very good reporters of events. Each reconstruction changes the memory slightly. The other interesting idea was that writing activates different parts of the brain, so that memories that are written are different from memories that are relayed verbally.

Stories

I just returned from the annual Brookdale Foundation Leadership in Aging retreat. It is always a fascinating 24 hours filled with new information and new ideas. A theme the last few years has been the idea of storytelling. There are a couple of different researchers working on storytelling with older adults in one way or another. So, here are some random thoughts about stories and personal narratives....



One presentation was about the use of the Odyssey to elicit stories from nursing home residents. The narrative focuses on Penelope, particularly her waiting. She waited 20 years for Odyseus to return, and then wasn't sure she recognized him when he did. Are there parallels to older adults--do we recognize them when they look different? are they the same person when they have lost their physical or mental abilities? are they in nursing homes waiting? for what, waiting to die? We talked about the difficulty we have in waiting in our culture now. There is a need for immediacy and quick response. I know that I can get impatient with someone who is slow to respond or react. On the other hand, I don't get too impatient waiting in a line or waiting for an event. What's the difference? I guess in one case I feel there is a lack of effort and in the other the waiting is beyond almost anyone's control.



Second idea: journey stories. If we think about the Odyssey and the journeys that Odyseus and Penelope make, Odyseus travels out into the world, he is on a quest. Men in journey stories overcome physical obstacles and leave home. In contrast, Penelope's journey is internal. She never leaves Ithaca. Her struggles are at home and within herself. I thought it was an interesting contrast of gender roles.



Third idea: self-stories. In a writing group older adults are asked to write stories that illustrate key memories in their lives. What was interesting was that these stories were most often stories of everyday events, not notable celebrations or life transitions. People would write about a picnic or vacation, rather than about their wedding or graduation. People focused on everyday experiences. I've thought about this before in my own memories. I barely remember attending my high school graduation, for instance. But, I have vivid memories of hiking with my dad and his habit of bringing along some fruit or candy to be doled out halfway through the trip. It makes me feel better when I think about my sons and their memories.



So, those are just some random ideas about stories, narratives, and the power of memory.

Being present

One habit I have is that I save phrases. What I mean is that when I read I often run across a string of words that I find particularly descriptive or engaging. I write them down. When I was a teenager I had an old stenographer's notebook in which I kept these tidbits. I have lines from books, songs, and poems. I still have that notebook, and looking back through it is like a walk through adolescence. A pretty rocky walk at times!

Now, I tend to keep my snippets on the computer. I wish I was better organized about it, but I'm not. Some are in emails, some on this blog, some are just in random word documents. Over time I have gotten less careful about attribution, even at a time when I've become more aware of the need for correct citation.

That's how I find myself running across a line I had written down recently and not remembering where it came from! I'm thinking it was a NYTimes story, but I could be wrong. I'm pretty sure it was written by someone in the medical field, perhaps even psychiatry. The individual was working, I think, in an Alzheimer's unit providing some type of care. With that big build up I'm sure you are all curious what the line was...so here it is:

"attentive at every level of human presence — not just by way of words, but through eye contact, compassionate silence, touch. "

What struck me about the line is the description of what it means to be present with someone. That it is not just about words, about what you say, but just as much about what you do when you are with someone. How do you show attention? How do you show that you are present?

I volunteer in a first grade class and there are a few ways students are asked to show their attention. One is the clapping routine. The teacher claps a pattern and students mimic it back. The idea, I suppose, is that the students have to attend to the task and focus on the teacher. Another is that students are asked to "show that they are ready" to move from one task to another. They do this by stacking their papers and workboxes in front of them and putting their heads down on the desk. Another way they are asked to show "attention."

So, as a teacher, how can I show the same "attention" to students? Do I focus on them when they are asking questions? Do I make eye contact? Do I give them time and space to think and respond to questions through a compassionate silence? How do I show them that I am ready?

Demography

I am deep in demography these days. I attended our annual professional meeting a few weeks ago, a small conference last week, and will be off to a larger conference in two weeks. I like hanging out with demographers. We are reasonable people who are mainly nice to each other. I don't know if I was drawn to demography because I think like a demographer or if I was trained to think like a demographer. I suppose a little of both.

Demographers study three main things: mortality, fertility, and migration. I fall into the mortality area. I always liked it because it was so much cleaner than fertility--you don't have to worry about intentions, desires, plans. Most people try to avoid death as long as possible and most only die once. Easy to count that way.

But, I was thinking about fertility the other day and one of my favorite demographic phrases. A well-known demographer Ansley Coale studied the decline of fertility in populations. He suggested that in order for fertility to be controlled three things had to occur. First, fertility control had to be in the "calculus of conscious choice." Second, that women had to see some benefit to fertility control. And, third, that they had to have a means to control fertility.

It is the phrase "calculus of conscious choice" that has stuck with me all these 25 some years. Before we can make any change we have to recognize it as possible, it has to be within our set of options, within our conscious mind. How many times are we blind to the options available because they don't exist for us? We simply do not see them. I think it happens a lot. Women could not imagine that fertility was even something that was possible to control. Babies just happened, how could that be within their control? In the same way we might think that some type of change is not even something we can control, not something we can exert any influence over.

But, just like fertility change, other changes can happen, too. Think about what you might be able to move into your calculus of conscious choice.

Dreams and Sleep

A month or so ago there was an interesting article about dreams in a NYTimes blog by Jonah Lehrer.
http://opinionator.blogs.nytimes.com/2010/03/19/why-we-need-to-dream/

He discussed the purpose of dreams--possibly a combination of sorting through new experiences to decide which to remember and an attempt to search for new associations. In this way the dreams are essential for creative thought.

He discussed an interesting experiment by Jan Born published in Nature in 2004. The study involved subjects doing a tedious numerical task. However, there was a shortcut to the task if the subjects could see subtle links between number sets. Less than 25% of the subjects found the shortcut. However, if people slept between trials 59% were able to see the shortcut.

I think that is an amazing finding. Haven't most of us had the experience of waking up suddenly with the solution to a problem we have been puzzling over? I always talk to students about the importance of sleep. In most cases, I believe students would benefit more from extra sleep than extra studying. As we move into finals periods, I would encourage all of you to get some sleep. Let your brain work.

Help!

Inspired by my son's admission that he doesn't "take help when he should" I'm writing two posts in one day. This one is about students asking for help--or not. In a recent Chronicle of Higher Education discussion of online courses I found this quote:

"I always clearly state in my syllabus that I will grant extensions if requested in advance of a due date, yet many students choose instead to forfeit points and turn in assignments late, so averse are they to direct contact with an instructor. In fact, I suspect some students take courses online instead of face to face precisely so that they can remain below the radar. "
http://chronicle.com/article/Designing-Effective-Online/64772/

I know exactly what he is talking about. I was such a student and I have encountered many such students. Professors present an intimidating image to many students. Many, but not all, are scared to death of us. I have students who will come begging for extensions because they need to get their nails done and others who won't say a word when they miss an assignment because their mother died. I know that I was very reluctant to go to a professor with a question, let alone a request for an extension. Recognizing that, I try to make it very easy for students to approach me. I try to create an atmosphere where we all recognize that this class, while important, is only one aspect of a student's life (or mine!) In a semester I can't overcome the tendencies of a very shy or reluctant student, but using things like email helps. Students don't have to actually talk to me, they can communicate by writing--avoiding the dreaded "direct contact."

Some instructors cultivate an atmosphere of fear and intimidation in their college classes. They thrive on being seen as the expert, the authority, on having control of the destiny of their students. I am not that kind of instructor. So, if you are in my class, ask me for help--and sooner rather than later. At some point, even I can't help you get out of the hole.

Who are you?

Yesterday I ran across some school work that one of my son's had done in 4th grade. The students had put together a portfolio of their best work of the year, and included a little introduction describing themselves. There were some very insightful things my son noted about himself and his personality. But what really struck me was the equal weight given to all of his observations. They weren't listed in this order, but in the short essay these were the items he felt important enough to include:

I have brown hair.
I am flexible.
I am smart.
I like steak.
I don't do many sports.
I don't like writing.
I am solitary.
I have hazel eyes.
I have a cat.
I like science.
I don't take help when I should.
I have a fish.
I have a brother.

As adults, do we look at ourselves in the same way? Is our hair color as notable as our intelligence? Is our favorite food as important as our family structure? I was impressed with the matter of fact way he noted some of his weaknesses, and the matter of fact way he noted some of his strengths. They are equally descriptive, but no more important than his hair color or favorite food. I wonder when we start to give greater weight to different aspects of our personality and self image. Is there a developmental stage in which we start to differentiate our self description?