I love my name. In the United
States it’s the perfect balance of unique yet common (yes, I understand that’s
an oxymoron, but you all know what I mean). Unique enough that I am one of the
only Evelyns that any one person knows, but common enough that people don’t
really struggle with my name, spelling or otherwise. If someone does misspell
my name, he/she probably wrote “Evelin” instead of “Evelyn” and I can totally
see the confusion there. In India, however, the name “Evelyn” seems to be one
of the most foreign concepts you could imagine. People here struggle a lot with
my name. The first month of the trip it was sort of an inside joke amongst our
group that our good friend Hemant-ji would pronounce my name like
“Eh-woe-leen,” but my name was just as mispronounced as other peoples’ (Jenny
was called Jonny by her host mom in Munsiyari and Ben P was called Dan by his
homestay family there, too. Chase’s name oftentimes comes out sounding more
like “Chess” than “Chase” and Caleb’s name sounds like “Call-eb”). Since
arriving in Banaras, however, I have had the most struggles with people
learning my name. This is partly because as a teacher I interact with a lot of
people who want to know my name (i.e. all my students and coworkers), but also
because people really can’t get a handle on how to say or write my name.
The first crazy experience I had with my name troubles happened at South Point School. It was first period and one of the men who works in the office came to my class with a slip of paper that announced who would be subbing what classes for the day. I scanned the paper for a good 30 seconds, didn’t see my name, and so gave it back to him assuming that I wouldn’t be subbing any classes that day. About twenty-thirty minutes later, however, Khushboo Ma’am (the in-charge of the middle/high school), walked into my class and asked me why I didn’t sign next to my name saying that I could sub the eighth graders during third period. I apologized and said I must have somehow missed my name, but when I looked at the paper I still couldn’t find where the heck my name was. She prompted me, “Class eight, there” and I saw she had written “Awlis” next to that slot. How are you supposed to politely tell your superior that they managed to spell your name with only one letter in common with how you actually spell your name? At that point I wanted to apologize, but at the same time how was I to know that the name “Awlis” was referring to me? When I obviously looked perplexed, Khushboo Ma’am asked if my name was not spelled correctly and I gently told her that “it was spelled a little differently.” I proceeded to write my name in clear print for future reference (this attempt failed, however, seeing as my name is still misspelled on the master schedule for classes).
The second most striking experience also revolved around South Point. This time was a phone “conversation” that I had with the front office. The reason I called the school was very simple: Ben and I had said that we would be at the teacher meeting on Saturday, but then later found out it conflicted with our BYP group meeting and had to let the school know we wouldn’t be coming. You think this would be an easy 30 second phone call, right? Not quite. The conversation went something like this:
Me: Hi, this is Evelyn Ma’am. Just calling to say that Ben Sir and I won’t be coming to the teacher meeting today.
Them: Sorry, who is speaking?
Me: It’s Evelyn. Evelyn Ma’am.
Them: Sorry, who?
Me: Ev-eh-lin. I am an intern here.
Them: So you want to talk to our interns?
Me: No, I am an intern. Ben Sir and I just cannot be at the meeting for teachers today.
Them: So, you want to meet our teachers?
Me: No, it’s Evelyn Ma’am. Me and Ben Sir are from the same program.
Them: Ah, you want a meeting with Ben Sir, then?
Me: No, no. I do not need to meet with anyone. I am a teacher here.
*Current speaker hands phone to someone else*
Them: Who is this?
Me: It’s Evelyn Ma’am. Evelyn.
Them: Sorry, who?
Me: Ev-eh-lin. Evelyn Ma’am. I teach math.
Them: You want to teach math here?
Me: No, I already am a teacher here. Ben and I cannot come to the meeting today.
Them: One second.
*Current speaker hands the phone off to a third person*
Them: Hello? Who is speaking?
Me: Evelyn. Ev-eh-lin. The math teacher. I am an intern here with Ben Sir.
*Conversation continues like this while the phone gets passed to everyone in the office*
Finally…
Them: OH! Ah-woe-leen!! What do you need?
Me: Ben Sir and I won’t be there today.
Them: Okay. Will you be here on Monday?
Me: Yes, we will be there on Monday.
Them: Very good. See you Monday.
*End Conversation*
No matter how many times I write my name phonetically in Hindi or try to explain how to say my name, no one ever seems to get it. The closest I’ve come to success is that my sixth graders call me “Eleven” which at least has all the right sounds in it. It’s actually kind of comical all the different things that I’ve been called, most of which I can’t even remember because they are so far from what my name is. When Ben and I arrive to school in the morning, it is customary for everyone to say “Good Morning _____ Sir/Ma’am” to each other. Ben always gets his “Good Morning Ben Sir” and then the same person will turn to me and just say “Good Morning Ma’am,” surreptitiously leaving out my name from the common phrase. What’s worse is that at this point it would be hard for me to start asking people to call me by my Hindi name, Indu, because that would just confuse them more. At least now a solid 10 or 12 people (mostly students) know a modestly correct version of my name. In any event, I never thought my name would cause so much strife here in India.
The first crazy experience I had with my name troubles happened at South Point School. It was first period and one of the men who works in the office came to my class with a slip of paper that announced who would be subbing what classes for the day. I scanned the paper for a good 30 seconds, didn’t see my name, and so gave it back to him assuming that I wouldn’t be subbing any classes that day. About twenty-thirty minutes later, however, Khushboo Ma’am (the in-charge of the middle/high school), walked into my class and asked me why I didn’t sign next to my name saying that I could sub the eighth graders during third period. I apologized and said I must have somehow missed my name, but when I looked at the paper I still couldn’t find where the heck my name was. She prompted me, “Class eight, there” and I saw she had written “Awlis” next to that slot. How are you supposed to politely tell your superior that they managed to spell your name with only one letter in common with how you actually spell your name? At that point I wanted to apologize, but at the same time how was I to know that the name “Awlis” was referring to me? When I obviously looked perplexed, Khushboo Ma’am asked if my name was not spelled correctly and I gently told her that “it was spelled a little differently.” I proceeded to write my name in clear print for future reference (this attempt failed, however, seeing as my name is still misspelled on the master schedule for classes).
The second most striking experience also revolved around South Point. This time was a phone “conversation” that I had with the front office. The reason I called the school was very simple: Ben and I had said that we would be at the teacher meeting on Saturday, but then later found out it conflicted with our BYP group meeting and had to let the school know we wouldn’t be coming. You think this would be an easy 30 second phone call, right? Not quite. The conversation went something like this:
Me: Hi, this is Evelyn Ma’am. Just calling to say that Ben Sir and I won’t be coming to the teacher meeting today.
Them: Sorry, who is speaking?
Me: It’s Evelyn. Evelyn Ma’am.
Them: Sorry, who?
Me: Ev-eh-lin. I am an intern here.
Them: So you want to talk to our interns?
Me: No, I am an intern. Ben Sir and I just cannot be at the meeting for teachers today.
Them: So, you want to meet our teachers?
Me: No, it’s Evelyn Ma’am. Me and Ben Sir are from the same program.
Them: Ah, you want a meeting with Ben Sir, then?
Me: No, no. I do not need to meet with anyone. I am a teacher here.
*Current speaker hands phone to someone else*
Them: Who is this?
Me: It’s Evelyn Ma’am. Evelyn.
Them: Sorry, who?
Me: Ev-eh-lin. Evelyn Ma’am. I teach math.
Them: You want to teach math here?
Me: No, I already am a teacher here. Ben and I cannot come to the meeting today.
Them: One second.
*Current speaker hands the phone off to a third person*
Them: Hello? Who is speaking?
Me: Evelyn. Ev-eh-lin. The math teacher. I am an intern here with Ben Sir.
*Conversation continues like this while the phone gets passed to everyone in the office*
Finally…
Them: OH! Ah-woe-leen!! What do you need?
Me: Ben Sir and I won’t be there today.
Them: Okay. Will you be here on Monday?
Me: Yes, we will be there on Monday.
Them: Very good. See you Monday.
*End Conversation*
No matter how many times I write my name phonetically in Hindi or try to explain how to say my name, no one ever seems to get it. The closest I’ve come to success is that my sixth graders call me “Eleven” which at least has all the right sounds in it. It’s actually kind of comical all the different things that I’ve been called, most of which I can’t even remember because they are so far from what my name is. When Ben and I arrive to school in the morning, it is customary for everyone to say “Good Morning _____ Sir/Ma’am” to each other. Ben always gets his “Good Morning Ben Sir” and then the same person will turn to me and just say “Good Morning Ma’am,” surreptitiously leaving out my name from the common phrase. What’s worse is that at this point it would be hard for me to start asking people to call me by my Hindi name, Indu, because that would just confuse them more. At least now a solid 10 or 12 people (mostly students) know a modestly correct version of my name. In any event, I never thought my name would cause so much strife here in India.
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