How were you named? What does it mean to you? What did it mean to your parents? Have you grown into your name, or did you make it your own? Consider your name and how you with that name affect others. Here’s a blog on the power of names.
“A rose by any other name would smell as sweet,” Juliet said. I learned my name when I started kindergarten. I don’t think Juliet realized no one would smell a rose if it were named something else, like “cumquat” or “poop”. No one would say, “you should take time to smell the snigglehoppers”. A rose is called thus because names mean something more than just a label.
“Her name is Amalia,” my mother told my new teacher as I stood there holding her hand tightly, “but we call her ‘Amy’”. The teacher, Miss Kelly, scanned down the list of new kindergarten students and found me.
I didn’t understand what my mother meant. I only knew the sound of, “Amy, it’s time for dinner,” and “Amy, put your toys away.” I knew to respond to that sound, the long sound of an “A” followed by “me”. I was supposed to listen…
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