It all started in Kindergarten

My first day of Kindergarten was actually the second day, due to my unfortunate luck of getting the stomach flu on the official first day of school. Walking into class on the official day number two was my introduction to that awful experience of being the new kid, even though I was well known to a good third of my classmates. I lived in a very small area, not even a town, with a lot of other farming families. We knew each other from church and community potlucks on the 4th of July. My cousin, Nathan, was the same age and lived down the road from my house. And yet, I was a complete stranger when I walked into the classroom, pencil box filled with my school supplies in hand. Along one wall was a shelf divided into little cubby holes with names, written in fat black marker letters on construction paper, indicating where we would be stowing our belongings. I couldn't find my name. There was this one empty cubby with the letters "Lynette" written on it, but I knew how to spell my name and that was not it. The teacher must have forgotten to give me one, since I hadn't been there on the first day.

And so it began. The life long battle of Linnet v. Lynette. It's not my fault, honest. My family never called me Lynette, it was always Linnet, for as long as I can remember. Even my mom told me that they barely called me by my birth name, because it was too weird. She'd named me after a good friend and just couldn't get used to looking and me and saying the name "Lynette". I spent every year up until college explaining to every teacher that I ever had that even though it may say "Lynette" on my official paperwork, I prefered to be called "Linnet" and I would refer to myself as such. In sophmore English class I was reprimanded by Mrs. Hoff for not bubbling in my proper name on standardized tests. She actually took the time to re-bubble my name when I forgot, which was pretty much every time. What a nice lady.

The other battle is the pronunciation game. "Hi, I'm Linnet." "Lynette?" "No, Lin-it". "Oh, La-nette". "Sure, whatever."

It's my own fault. I get tired of going back and forth and never getting the correct sound. So, by college, I gave up. I didn't feel confident enough to explain the name thing to all of my professors, and even though I still called myself Linnet, and even introduced myself as Linnet, I didn't try to correct anyone. Four years of my life I spent cultivating some lasting friendships with people who know me as Lynette. I never got used to it, though. I still have friends that call me Lynette and it sounds so odd, foreign. Like an ever so slightly out of tune chord strummed on a guitar.

I knew people in college who changed their names half way through. Like from David to Scott. Why? Some might accuse me of attempting the same switcharoo, but in my own defense, I was never Lynette, not really. People in the theatre department changed their names because someone else in actors equity or SAG already had their name. They were just getting used to the possibility that they may have to change. At least, that's what I assumed. I never changed my name, not in my mind. I have always been, will always be Linnet. It is an unusual name, and I believe that people don't hear it the way I say it because it's foreign to the ears. So their brain goes immediately to the sounds that are similar, and familiar. It is a rare day that someone actually repeats back to me "Linnet".

Wanted to clear that little mystery up for anyone who might be wondering, and find themselves reading my ramblings.