What's In A Name?

"What's in a name? That which we call a rose By any other name would smell as sweet."

Last night was parent conferences, aka "The Hostage Crisis." My day started at 7:30 AM and didn't end until 7:00 PM. All 120+ of us teachers were crammed into the gym and seated by twos at long tables. At 3:30, It began. The slow and steady trickle of parents wended its way around the maze, each of them peering like confused lab rats at the name signs helpfully perched at each corner of the rectangles. Naturally, the administration had done its part by changing the configuration and seating each and every time so that maximum entertainment value for its weary teachers could be achieved. (Hey, our district is so strapped that they can't even provide water, tea, or coffee for us! We have to have something!)

At conferences I renew my amazement/amusement at the names my students have been given. I am perplexed by the number of parents who plop down in the chair and announce, "I'm Sarah's mother." Period. Lady, I have 123 students this year. Six of them are named Sarah. Four of them are in the same class. Which one of them might yours be????? And then, when I handwrite a report on the spot for this parent, filling in the name of the student quickly, with an up-to-the-minute grade and percentage, with other parents in line breathing down her neck, does she thank me? No. She helpfully points out: "Oh, my daughter doesn't have the "h" at the end of her name." Graciously, I smile and say, "Oh, of course she doesn't. I was writing quickly. But the information is correct, let me assure you."

Another mom sits down and brings her daughter, one of my favorite charmers. We laugh and tease her. Her name is Shaquanta. I say, "I call her Shaq, like Shaquille O'Neal, for short." Her mother looks confused. She says, "Oh....Well, I just call her Quanta. I let my sister make up her name when she was born. I didn't really understand it, and Shaquanta spent most of kindergarten and first grade trying to pronounce it and spell it. She kept trying to use a "k". But pretty soon she got onto it. That was the last time I let my sister name one of my babies."

My tablemate leans over and rolls her eyes. "What the heck did she let her sister name her kid for?" she says. I just laugh. It starts me thinking about all the oddly-named students I've had over the years (I will give them all the last name Smith to preserve confidentiality):

Shatamela Pamela Smith...yes, exactly. I loved saying her whole name out loud when I called on her. It was like an addiction. I found myself calling on her even when she wasn't there.

These twins were very distinctive. Their mom was black and their dad was white. One twin was light-skinned; one was dark-skinned. You will not believe me, but I swear it is true:

Chocolate and Vanilla Smith.

We have had at least two girls at our school named: Toyota.

This is one I'm still trying to figure out: Clechie. Pronounced to rhyme with "peachy." It is a boy's name. But you probably could tell that. Yeah.

No one at school has ever gotten over this one: Jjiimmeellee. Did you pronounce it "Jimmylee?"

I'm sorry; that's incorrect. It is "Ja-Mell." I used to wonder if his mom was a stutterer.

A couple of years ago, I had a young lady whose name was spelled Tiey. Did you prounounce it "Tay?" BZZZZZZZZZZZ. Sorry; thanks for playing our game. It's to be said this way: "Tie-ya."

Last year, Tareyn was a girl. This year, Taryn is a boy. Last year, Ash was a boy. This year, Ash is a girl. I am so glad retirement is nigh. Do you know, in 26 years, I've never, ever had a single Nance?