Seasonal Amnesia.

It clearly states here: TEACHER.

Teacher? Are you crazy?

Is this you?

Surely Not.

This is you isn't it? (rising intonation.)

No. It can't be me.

Wouldn't you say that these photos are incriminating?

Must be an impostor.

But there are books on your shelf.

Haven't a clue how they got there.

There are articles with your name.

Someone else must have written them.

No memory of writing this article?

None. Absolutely none.

There are folders of your lesson plans.

Er, what's a lesson plan?

You know don't you? (descending intonation.)

Not at all.

There are thousands of ex-students willing to testify.

Never seen them before in my life. 

There are your colleagues, here.

Never seen them before in my life. 

There are records of your 28 years of service.

Must be mistaken. I am much too young.

The evidence is overwhelming.

No it isn't. What date is it?

August 22nd. Look at the calendar.

I live in a different time zone.

That doesn't change the date.

Are you sure?

You are a teacher aren't you?

No idea how to do that job.

No memory of it.

How can you not remember?

It must be seasonal AMNESIA.

Urgent.

Shrieking for attention among the never to be read was an email marked: URGENT. 

I sighed.

It had been a long year.

What on earth could be URGENT at this time of the year?

I thought I had better read it.

It referred to another mail left unread.

It was laced with threats of exclusion, excommunication, exfoliation, extermination.

My stress levels rose momentarily.

I sighed.

I thought I had better read the unread.

After much searching and filtering I read the aforesaid unread.

I understood very little.

I sighed.

Attached was an Excel file, and three other documents.

It was URGENT.

I understood very little.

There was line after line of arcane, I assumed academic, acronyms.

I sighed.

It has been a long year.

I texted a friend.

She wasn't sure either.

But it was URGENT.

I plumped for the line beginning: ACLN 2015.

I typed 2 in the cell.

I saved the file.

I attached it in response to the mail with the stressful threats.

I clicked on send.

I hoped for the best.

A reply arrived.

"Thank you Simon."

I didn't really understand what I had done.
It appeared that 2 was an acceptable answer.