Marilyn Englander explains why it’s important to learn people’s names.
On a recent cross-country trip, I arrived at the airport wrung out from a long drive and dreading the 6-hour flight home. The boarding area was crowded. I knew I’d have to fight for an overhead bin. My mood was glum. I shuffled in line to board and held out my pass.
The attendant glanced at it, then caught my eye and greeted me warmly, “Welcome aboard, Marilyn.” In that instant my sour attitude shifted. I felt so much better. What had happened was small but significant — she had called me by my name. I suddenly felt embraced. It’s such a small gesture, but so powerful.
Early in my middle school teaching career I learned this lesson. The first few days in the fall, I’d work furiously to memorize each student’s name, noting on my class roster: “freckles” or “smiley.” As usual, kids would attempt to misbehave in the first weeks. But when I interrupted the mischief by chastising a kid by name, I would get immediate compliance. Miracle! There is of course a flip side to this phenomenon. It’s jarring when someone mispronounces your name, or worse, calls you by the wrong name. It can feel as if your identity is erased.
At my beloved uncle’s funeral, a substitute minister kept referring to him by his first name, John. My whole family winced in pain. My uncle was called all his life by his middle name, so no one recognized the man being eulogized. I once even dropped out of an art class, so disheartened that even in the fifth week the teacher hadn’t learned my name.