On putting myself in THEIR shoes

It's been another great day at college camp. I'm loving my students and learning a lot. I can't shake my green so I'm still feeling a bit like a rookie in many aspects of this experience. Nevertheless, I know I'm still adding some level of value for the students and that leaves me with a strong sense of pride. I know I'm not working miracles, but I still feel like I'm making a difference, no matter how small. One of the counselors also shared that he'd heard his students saying good things about me, which left me both beaming and relieved.

Today, my colleague Michael and I had our combined groups of 13 students go through an exercise about the college essay. For 20 minutes, they were to sit and write an essay about their name. It could be about their last, first or middle name, a nickname, and they could approach it in any manner they desired. The subject of the essay simply needed to take one or more as its focus. We decided to play along as well, thus making the "sharing" portion of the program a bit more bearable. We made everyone read the essays they wrote and, in order to get the ball rolling, I shared mine first. I must say, I was so impressed with what the students produced that I can only hope they walked away with a sense of confidence in their own ability and a decreased level of stress about this portion of the process as a whole.

Still, when it came to sharing my own essay, I'm pretty sure my voice shook in parts. It's amazing how, despite all the public speaking I've done, sharing personal writing can still make me so nervous. But, here it is, for your consideration:

I'm Irish. Well, I'm American first, but my Irish heritage is a tremendous source of pride in my family. So much so that my parents gave a Gaelic spelling to my quite traditional first name. Unique and interesting? No doubt. A pain in the butt? Completely.

C-R-I-S-T-A-N. Seems pretty simple to me. Kristan with a "C". Nevertheless, no one in the past 29 years of my existence is able to comprehend it. Yes, family included. I still receive birthday cards addressed to the wrong girl.

They throw in an "h", and there's always the "i" before the "a". Suddenly I'm a 29 year old male named Christian. Of course, everyone thinks I'm male even when it's spelled correctly. I've been on the receiving end of enough "Dear Mr." e-mails to understand how common the misunderstanding really is. And imagine their surprise when I call them back! "Wait, are you Mr. *****'s secretary?" What's most entertaining is seeing the look of surprise on someone's face when I finally meet them in person after written correspondence. Perhaps I should add doilies and flowers to my e-mail stationary to avoid this confusion once and for all.

Of course, after so many years of misspellings and mistaken identity, yes, I'm used to it, and it comes with the territory of a unique existence. 99% of the time I'm able to laugh it off and move on. But, on an already bad day, the confusion is enough to set my mad Irish temper aflame. Still, I wouldn't trade it for the world. It's a conversation piece and adds a simple element of mystery to the everyday. Then again, why didn't they just name me Shannon?