Memory, Memory, Who has the . . .

Memory.

It is entirely possible, yea plausible and probable, that I have Menopause Brain. Lately, in front of my friends, fellow faculty members, and family it takes me an everlasting eternity to find the right, reasonable, and recommended word.

This means that, for the first time in my lengthy and lyrical life, am an losing arguments- to students no less! Here I am, helplessly hoping the politically correct and carefully calculated comment will come rushing to my cerebral cortex, and n-o-t-h-i-n-g.

One particularly problematic punk has actually had the audacity to attempt to finish my freaking sentences for me. I am not about allowing that!

Understand, I enjoy an educationally and emotionally engaging confrontation as much as the next person, but I am expected to emerge the victor. It says so on my meticulously and 'masterfully' earned . . . um . . . master's degree. No there is a much meatier word. What was it?

Brain, better be on your best behavior because I am bringing back my 'A' game.