On retaining and recalling past experience (in short, a memory)

The class opened like any other class opened. The teacher asked no question to the fact that four new students, apparently foreign students, were present. He seemed to be a man that asked surprisingly few questions at all. “Surprisingly”, since his subject was philosophy, where, after all, the main point is to ask (and occasionally answer) questions.


“Philosophy” meant an endless flow of words about the life and work of Jean Paul Sartre. I remember wondering if the teacher ever took breaks, say, to breathe; and I remember being impressed by myself (and my French) that I was able to understand most of what he was saying. At that point I understood probably 90% of all French I heard or read, but I didn’t speak much. Today I’m ashamed to say I do neither.

The class could have been a boring one – should have, even – but in reality is wasn’t so bad. I know I found it both educational and interesting, though somewhat monotone. I wasn’t at all impressed by the teaching methods employed by that particular professeur.

Today, five years later, I don’t remember much from the class, except a rather comical situation. The classroom was on the attic floor, where all the hot air from the floors below seemed to gather. The conditions were ripe for the students’ minds to start drifting, and drift they probably did. In a feeble attempt to prevent this, someone had opened a window – but in reality it only promoted it, as no city can give alluring sounds like Paris; especially in springtime.

No student spoke during the class, until one of the boys suddenly exclaimed with a surprised voice: “Monsieur, un chat!” And indeed, a cat it was. A small, black and white cat had strayed up to the roof of the grand old building, and now it had discovered an open window. The cat only joined the class for a few minutes before it was hoisted out through the same window it had entered. However, I am sure that most of the students in that class, like me, remember the cat far better than the life and philosophy of a certain Monsieur Sartre.

And just to be clear - this isn't the cat in question. This cat is just a pretty one that Wikipedia lent me.

The other picture is, however,  from Paris, though not from that trip. I've done Paris a lot :)