A couple weeks ago, I made name placards for my beginning debaters. I take the time to write their last names on the placards, mostly because I’m a little OCD and I can’t handle it when they write their names in small letters or poor handwriting so no on can read them! When I passed them out, I was informed I’d spelled one of my students’ names incorrectly. This particular young woman does have a Russian name, but it’s not a complicated spelling nor is it difficult to pronounce. I just added a letter that shouldn’t be there.
Now, those who don’t enjoy new names like I do or those who don’t take pride in their spelling as I do (you may not recall, but I have won a couple bees in my day) may not recognize the significance in the spelling of a name. Most of us probably don’t care when the Starbucks barista gets it wrong on our cup. But, I was both mortified and proud in this particular moment. Mortified because I got it wrong, which also led to a bit of anxiety my mishap might signal some serious cognitive issue. Proud because this quiet student asserted herself, which also led to a feeling of vindication that getting one’s spelling right does matter.
Neither my first name nor my last name are spelled in a conventional way. When people ask me, I usually explain that my mother is responsible for my first name and my husband is responsible for my last name. I don’t expect people to spell it correctly the first time around, but I do think an unwillingness to get it right on subsequent tries starts to feel a little microaggressive. In recent weeks, I’ve had a couple encounters at work where men via email have repeatedly spelled my name wrong. Now, maybe it’s an oversight or they’re terrible spellers, but I can’t help but wonder if they just don’t care to get it right.
I went back and remade that placard. I apologized to my student for my mistake. I insisted we all work on knowing each other’s names. And now I hope she doesn’t take it as a personal affront, though I’d imagine my flub represents one of many moments when her immigrant-sounding name along with her accent-laden conversation has elicited requests for her and her name to assimilate.
I know it’s minor, but I also know it matters to some of us.