Differently Accurate

It was a Thursday like any other. This one started with the prep schedule coming apart at the seams. A “no-coverage” day, and that meant our prep teacher was away, and the cavalry wasn’t coming — no substitute teachers available 😟

I ended up covering almost every teacher on staff, one after another. Somewhere in the middle of that, I was tying off a major student suspension, and consulting with the RCMP on a related concern. Multiple parents also wanted a piece of me that day, and their situations were each important. And the rest of the building carried on, unaware that any of it was happening.

Friday, we ran our National Indigenous Peoples’ Day assembly.

Then, at lunch, a bear sow and cub wandered onto the playground.

And I still made it to the staff social on time that Friday afternoon.

None of this made it into my journal that night, or even that weekend. I came back to it much later, using a prompt Danny Bauer offered in the Ruckus Maker community and his clone, Digital Danny. By that time the details felt less like an episode of Survivor and more like a story with a beginning, an absurd middle, and an ending that felt a tiny bit triumphant.

Something I’ve learned is that memories captured weeks or months later aren’t more or less accurate, just differently accurate. By that time I know how the story ends.

Timing changes the sharpness of a memory. That’s something I’ve been testing this past school year, with different windows for capturing moments.

Same-day capture: This is something my friend Danny teaches with his EPS journal method. Set aside 90 seconds at the end of the day and jot down where you made an effort, where you made progress, and how you were successful. It’s so short, it’s impossible to skip, which is the point. It catches the temperature of the day and how you felt while you were in it. It’s also a seedling moment where you catch details before they cool off or get glossed over.

Some days, like my Thursday, there might not be ninety seconds to spare. The method works on any day, but the really good stuff will likely be on the days where you have to make an “effort” to put pen to paper.

A few days later: This is when you have enough distance to get perspective, but the specifics are still sharp. You still remember exact words, the facial expressions, how you felt. The “first time at the top of a run at Purden ski hill” is precise and vivid. It feels important, and I can recall why it was momentous.

Much later: When you’re a few weeks or months out from an event, like my bear/suspension/assembly story, you’re recognizing the parts of a story. The details you remember aren’t necessarily the most accurate ones, but serve to shape the way the story turned out.

The throughline: Each of these ways of capturing serves a different purpose, each of them “right” in their own way. Same-day is factual, without perspective. A few days later gives perspective without full meaning. Much later lacks precise detail but makes meaning of the event.

The Thursday/Friday story was lodged in my memory banks, but it only came into the light of day when I made a point of recalling and recording, using a journal prompt, and taking time to put pen to paper. The hard parts of that week left a trace in my memory, and some of it actually became funny in hindsight. I just needed the prompt to go looking for those moments.

That’s a rhythm I’m trying to create, and an asymmetry I’m trying to correct. The difficult days are where the good stuff lives, but it’s hard to find the time to write things down. The good days are easy. Building a system that catches the moments won’t capture a “real” version, but it will show me different angles on the same day. That seems like a practice worth pursuing.

PS … Speaking of building tools to catch all those memorable moments, remember PocketMod? I’m building a small analog tool of my own to release in August, a PocketMod-style booklet that lives in your pocket like a story bank, waiting to be filled. I’ll bet Austin Kleon loved these back in the day. 😀 Stay tuned.