Say My Name, Say My Name...

So, here's the story that won me tix to see my faaaaavorite band in a studio session last year. My favorite band, since you're wondering, is Dashboard Confessional. And, no, I'm not 13. And, yes, it's difficult to find friends who will attend their concerts with me. (Thanks, Kitty.) On with the story...

I'm a high school chemistry teacher and, while I can't imagine doing anything else, there are days that I think I'll go crazy if I hear the words, "Miss Erney" one more time. More accurately, it's usually a nice, strident string of "mussurny, mussurny, mussurny" that makes me want to scream. It is at those times that I change the rules on my students--if they want me to respond to them, they are no longer to refer to me as "Miss Erney." (And, no, they don't get to choose what else they'd like to call me...) I write my new name on the board--Mrs. Carrabba--and I smile as I wait for someone to figure out my schtick. After the inevitable guesses of, "you really like the Italian chain restaurant?" one excited 15 year old girl usually figures it out. She agrees with me, of course: Chris Carrabba IS dreamy. We simultaneously sigh.

If you didn't know that Chris Carrabba is the lead singer of Dashboard Confessional, that's okay. It just means that 1) you're not 14 and 2) less competition for me =)

So that's been my life for the last 10 years. Now it's this year. About a month into my return-to-college, I realized that I really look forward to Thursdays. That's odd since it's my longest day and I have lots of work due each week for my food chem lab. I finally recognized why it's my favorite day--my lab partner says my name. I don't really get to hear "Heather" much anymore. Many of my profs don't know my name, the students are friendly enough, but don't get too buddy-buddy with the "mom-like" student, and I spend a lot of time in my apartment, where spiders abound, but rarely say my name. My lab partner, though, addresses me as "Heather" during labs. When I realized this, tears came to my eyes (yes, I know that crying during class may not help attract would-be friends...). It makes me sad that people don't know who I am. It also makes me question whether I really know who I am. I went from a city to the country, from friends to strangers, from a teacher to student, from hearing my name repeated ad nauseum to forgetting that I had a name, from happiness to...

Anyway, to all the Harriton kids, I vow to never again complain about hearing "Miss Erney" too often! Unless Chris Carrabba is reading this and has a proposal in mind. =)

PS Thanks, Allen.