What's in a Name?

In Romeo and Juliet, a name takes the lives of the titular characters. It is the symbol of family rivalry generations old. It is an obstacle complicated by youthful fears and compulsions, with the audacity to take their own lives but not speak out against their parents.

In Liar and Spy by Rebecca Stead, the protagonist, Georges, meets an odd boy named Safer and his sister, Candy. I think it is not unfair to say that these three names are on the odd side of normal.

In a film I recently watched, a character amuses herself with the idea that people “believe” the names their parents give them. The writer poses an interesting question: is “believe” the right verb to describe how we relate to our names?

When I was a kid, people would ask me if I liked being called “Pat” or “Patrick,” and I would tell them I didn’t care. Sometimes people would call me the wrong name – even my mom called me “Michael” once – thanks, mom – and it didn't really bother me. Then somewhere between high school and college, it became very important to me that people called me “Pat.” Upon graduating college, it became suddenly just as important that people call me “Patrick," and that was the last time anything stuck, so it's just been like that ever since (although to my students, it's "Patrick Teacher").

A name can be much more than a label. I don't think about it much these days, and although I'd like to claim I'm so easy-breezy that it doesn't matter what people call me, it very much does. I would never change my name to "Michael," as fantastic of a it is, and I suppose that I very much believe my name. There is no rational proof that it is what it is, but I accept it on faith.

What do you think? If you’re reading this, you’re almost definitely my student, and you might have two names – a Korean name your parents gave you and an English name that might have come from any number of places. How important is your Korean name? Your English name? Do you like yours?