A rose by any other name

My students have delightful names. I didn't always think so. I remember looking at my rosters before the first week of school, and thinking, "Uh-oh." All of those Xs and collections of consonants intimidated me, plus I knew the worst way to start a relationship with a teenager was to butcher his name.

But now? I wish I had a dozen kids just so I could give them lovely Latino names.  I have my share of Jessica's and Joshua's, to be sure, plus I have names that look Anglo that are quite not and that I do, indeed, badly pronounce. For example, Jaime is HI-may, the first half of Laura is the same sound that rhymes with ouch or plough, and the vowels in Paula's name are separated, so you get something more like PAY-oo-luh. Oh, and Andrea, too: on-DRAY-uh.

See? Beautiful.

The name I had the most difficulty with is Anahi. When I first met her, I tromped over the letters like a pig in a garden. Now I know to lightly brush through them, softly and quickly, like something I might say talking in my sleep.

I also love the name Cesia, I think because it reminds me freesia, and Dalia, too, must be one of the prettiest names to lean over a crib and chant. Samira seems incredibly exotic, just like her curly, henna'd hair. And look at all those names that end in A. The list goes on and on: Maria, Vanessa, Sandra, Maya, Karla, Martha, Maritza. I fit right in.

Funny, though, that my boys' names don't seen nearly as unusual. In fact, most of them have names that make me think of older uncles wearing plaid pants and knobbing up the volume too loud on the television, like Walter, Elmer, Oscar, or Fredy. I do have a Jose, Juan, and Miguel here and there. Quite a few of my boys' parents name their son Cristian, but never with the H that shows up in the American version. A couple of names are more unusual to my ear: Osmin, Francisco, Octavio, and Yordy. My favorite, for sure, is Josue (pronounced ho-SWAY). Even better, Josue's last name is Espino. He's a cute kid. And gosh, his name is just fun to shout. "Josue Espino, stop horsing around! Do you need to take a walk, young man?" He usually grins his adorable grin and then bolts out the door.

My very, very favorite name at my school is not a student's, but rather a teacher's. My American History teammate is Marisol Pineda Conde. The way to correctly pronounce Marisol is not by grinding through every consonant like an enunciation contest, but rather softening the letters so that the R is more like a D and the L is barely mentioned at all. Like this: MAH-dee-so. Oh, like coconut cream pie, so sweet and smooth.

My kids, of course, wish their names were more Americanized, and they wear sunscreen so that their light brown skin doesn't turn even one shade darker. Someday, I know they'll wear their beautiful names and cafe au lait skin proudly.

They will know, I hope, that a rose by any other name would not smell as sweet.