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That's Not My Name

It is the first day of school. All the students are dressed in their best clothes and are on their best behavior to make a good impression on the teacher. The bell rings welcoming all the students back to school from their summer break. Students rush to their class, eager to meet the new teachers and to get the best seats. The final bell rings making the class stop the meaningless chatter of how their summer went and all the latest drama. The school year has officially begun.
The teacher introduces herself, tells the class how excited she is for the new year, and then she starts to take the role. She goes through the A’s, B’s, C’s, D’s, E’s, and then she finally comes to the F’s. You can tell that the next name is giving her a challenge as you can read her lips trying to sound out the name. She calls out “Gabriel!” I know she is referring to me. The other students start laughing and they proceed to call me “Gabe.” The teacher looks around the room, not understanding what is so funny. This is nothing new to me. This has become a yearly routine on the first day of school; I have learned to just go with it. I raise my hand and say, “Here, my name is Gabrielle, but you can call me Gabi.” Just like I say every single year, in every class.





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