Sneha Modi WR 13300 TR 3:30 Dr.

Erin Dietel-McLaughlin The Name Game As the professor entered the room, the loud roar of the first day of class calmed to a soft murmur. I glanced around the room carefully, attempting to find a familiar face, or at least a comforting one. As I was analyzing the room, I realized the professor had been taking roll and had paused for a second. I knew exactly what was coming next, and I was not looking forward to it. Okay Im having a little trouble with this one. Is it ummSnee-na? I could just see the way my name was being mutilated in my professors mind. I cringed on the inside as I heard it being pronounced in probably its millionth variation. The room was silent for what felt like hours. Obviously no Snee-na was present. I broke the awkward silence and quickly responded, Thats me. Its Sneha. Multiple pairs of eyes turned around and looked at me, wondering who this Snee-na was and what she looked like. I stared straight ahead, avoiding the critical eyes of my new peers. This wasnt something new; I had grown used to the embarrassment of having to be the teacher on the first day of class, explaining to everyone how exactly my name is pronounced. The responses usually consisted of quiet nods or uncomfortable smiles that never seemed very convincing or confident. The first day of school, which most people always find exciting, had slowly become something I dreaded. I started disliking the first day of school after my first day of kindergarten. I had never explained the pronunciation of my name to anyone on my own; my mom and dad had always done it for me. But every first day of school after kindergarten, I was prepared

to face the worst. Repeating my name to each of my classmates multiple times, trying to help my teacher pronounce it correctly. I would only ever try to correct them on the first day. Sometimes they would get it, a lot of times they wouldnt. I didnt have the patience or the energy to constantly correct those who didnt. Nor did I have the guts. So I would remain Shneeha for the whole school year, or at least until somebody else decided it was time that they should know my real name. In the early years, kids would make fun of my name because it was different from everybody elses. I never understood what was so funny and it bothered me. Eventually, I picked up some nicknames I definitely did not like. Like any other kid just starting school, I didnt know many people in my class. I hadnt made too many great friends who would help me out in explaining how my name was pronounced, and the new ways of saying my name on every first day of school just added fuel to the fire. Each mispronunciation was new material for a new nickname. The various nicknames I accumulated never helped my confidence and I remained as timid as I had been the first day of kindergarten. I hated those mean nicknames but I never stood up for myself. At times, I wondered how people came up with some of these pronunciations. There is no d in my first name, where the heck does that even come from? Does she have dyslexia? is a thought that has crossed my mind multiple times, especially when a pronunciation seemed to reverse the order of letters in my name. Other times, Ive wondered, are you even trying at all? when bizarre pronunciations escaped their lips. Why did everybody find these mispronunciations so funny? I never understood it. And I was too embarrassed to stand up and correct them.

As I grew older, this first-day-of-class routine became kind of a running joke for the close friends I had made. They had gone through this experience about as long as I had. When Snay-haw, Shena, or Shneeha was called on in class, they would turn around and knowingly laugh at me. Eventually, they even started correcting the teacher so I wouldnt have to. Slowly, I was able to get through the first day of school without too much embarrassment. Slowly, I was able to break out of my shell. Slowly, I began standing up for myself. Slowly, I was able to make sure everyone knew how to say my name correctly. I never thought it could get worse than the first few years of elementary school. Then, I went to high school. A handful of my friends were attending the same high school as me, but that didnt mean they had the same schedule as I did. I didnt recognize a single face when I entered my first class on the first day of freshman year. I immediately realized that the dreaded first day of school had returned. There were six different teachers on the first day of class who found six completely different ways of mispronouncing my name. In some of my classes, I didnt have any friends who could help me out. But this time, I knew I would have to stand up for myself or I would have to go through the horrors of elementary school all over again. So I made sure every student and every teacher in every one of my classes knew my name: Sneha. I had finally made it to my senior year of high school. As my teacher was taking roll, I recognized the all-too-familiar pause again. I am positive I am going to butcher this name. Is it Shnewha? Before the room could even turn around and look at me, I had already started bursting out in laughter. This time I realized what was so funny. I was comfortable in my own skin and I was able to laugh at myself. I no longer dreaded the first day of school. In fact, I looked forward to it.

Now when Snay-haw, Shena, or Shneeha is called on in class, my friends still turn around. But now they knowingly laugh with me.