“A-is-linn?”
“No, my name is Aislinn.”
“It says A-is-linn on the form.”
“Well, it’s pronounced Aislinn.”
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“Hmm. I’ll call you A-is-linn.”
“Okay, but that’s not my name.”
What’s in a name? Why are we so quick to tell others what they should call themselves, how they should perceive themselves?
One of my many faults as a teacher is how bad I am at learning students’ names. Other teachers, when taking the roll, look up and register the face with the name. I’m more of a head-down-and-listen roll-taker. This is not great for making sure you have the right name with the right student.
It can take me weeks to learn each student’s name.
In a world where we are encouraged to conform, in a school environment predicated on conforming, wearing the same uniform, sitting quietly in rows, we need to acknowledge those moments where the students shouldn’t have to conform
Names are important, though, and one thing I try to do is pronounce each student’s name properly. Irish names and Eastern European names can be tricky, but, with practice and reminders, I get there eventually. Gone are the days when some students simplified their names, or even gave themselves nicknames, because others have difficulty with the pronunciation. This denial of who they are, for the convenience of others, is a thing of the past.
Then there are the names that don’t appear on the roll – the ones students put down in the “also known as” section of the application form when they first came to school.
“Patrick O’Neill?”
Silence.
“Patrick O’Neill?”
Silence.
“Sorry, Paudie O’Neill?”
“Here, sir.”
These kinds of interactions are normal, everyday occurrences in classrooms all over the country.
Calling people by their preferred name is all about respect. He wants to be called Paudie, so I’ll call him Paudie. His name on the roll is William, but he goes by his middle name, Cormac, so I’ll call him Cormac.
No big deal. What’s it to me? How does this change affect me? It doesn’t.
Which is why I don’t understand the issue around students changing their names from ones associated with one gender to names associated with another. If moving from calling them Andy to calling them Amy makes them feel more themselves and thus more comfortable in my classroom, then that is what I will do. This moment of respect can make a huge difference.
Empathy is a key element of our education system, one that we are trying to find ways of teaching to students. A simple example of showing empathy is to listen to students and let your interactions with them be led by their needs, not your own ideology. One of the key changes in a teacher’s professional life is when they realise it’s all about the student: not the teacher, not the subject, just the student.
“All right boys and girls, write those three paragraphs on the development of Macbeth’s character.”
One student just sat there smiling at me.
“Oh, of course. Them/they are also to write the three paragraphs.”
They grinned and picked up their pen.
I walked around the class, giving small bits of advice to students that were struggling to start the short essay.
I leaned down as I came to them.
“You thought you got away without having to do the writing, didn’t you?”
“I nearly did.”
“Nearly.”
More smiles, and I walk away.
In a world where we are encouraged to conform, in a school environment predicated on conforming, wearing the same uniform, sitting quietly in rows, we need to acknowledge those moments where the students shouldn’t have to conform, especially to old-fashioned concepts of identity. Just as students can choose to change their names, because a new name feels more real to them, so too can they change their pronouns.
Sometimes, a student will ask to be called by a different name, a different official name, and you must check whether they have their parents’ or guardians’, agreement. If it’s okay with them, then who am I to question their decision?
We are living in a possible golden age of acceptance and diversity: so many students from different cultures, different individual needs, different identities. These students are quiet examples of individuality, the possibilities within each of us to be ourselves, our true selves, and not just an accepted version of us.
There was a perceived homogeneity to my youth, a world of straight, white, Catholic communities. Except it wasn’t homogenous, it was a world of self-repression, pretence and a communal suppression of individuality. Education, especially English, is all about giving students a voice of their own, a way of expressing themselves that comes from within themselves, not imposed from the outside. Education is about creating individuals that question the norms, like the “correct” use of pronouns.
Sometimes, a student will ask to be called by a different name, a different official name, and you must check whether they have their parents’ or guardians’, agreement. If it’s okay with them, then who am I to question their decision? I should embrace the opportunity for the student to feel comfortable in a way they couldn’t previously in my classroom.
[ Culture wars reach the Irish primary school classroomOpens in new window ]
Sometimes, we are told that the parent or guardian don’t agree, or that the school hasn’t been informed about any change. In these situations, I wait. The decision is not mine to make, it is up to their family to discuss and decide.
Being diverse is what we are, what we truly are – what we always were but weren’t allowed to be.
I’m teaching Elizabeth Bishop at the moment, and came across the line:
“…you are an I
you are an Elizabeth,
you are one of them.”
We can name ourselves, we can have our own identities, yet we are all part of the same global community. We are all just “us”.
