Funny how memory works, at least in my case. I find it very easy indeed to forget bad times. Even when I recall a tough period the actual texture of the experience nearly always escapes me. I find it hard to capture how it all felt - not that I try all that hard to do so.
Yesterday I was glancing at a journal I kept ten years ago, at which time I was commenting on the work I was doing in the school I was employed in previous to the one I'm in today. Now generally I have warm memories of the school and my colleagues and the students there. And also I was reading about November when teaching would have ended and I would have been engaged solely in admin work. Yet the journal is a litany of very real complaint, on a daily basis, with frequent references to the near impossibility of getting everything done.
It's so strange. Undoubtedly I was swamped, yet I've managed to shut out what exactly was in the swamp, I'm guessing partly because it would have all been almost completely irrelevant to my real job of trying to teach kids something.
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