Have you ever had over 50 people scream your name all at once before?
I have. A couple of times, actually.
They were all middle school and high school students, but it still was cool. It was over the summer at camp and I was waiting for the youth group I had worked with or over a year and half to arrive. They were late (it’s their style) and so most of the counselors had to go inside. About a half an hour before registration was over, an old school bus pulled up to the front of the camp and when they saw me, all the students stuck their heads out of the car and with utmost volume and excitement, bellowed- PAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAM
This is not the first time or the last time I will hear my name screamed by middle schoolers. It’s a strange feeling, to hear your name shouted simultaneously among a crowd. You love it, partly for the attention (can’t deny that) but also for the affection on the other end of that.
I used to hate my name. Once in high school, I tried to convince everyone to start calling me “Mel” (paMELa-see it?). But it didn’t stick. My friends have always liked my name, but only because there is so much you can do with it. Over the years I have been called Pamburger, Pammer Bammer, Pamera, Pampire, Pamantha, Pammer the Hammer, Pamberly, Palmolive, Pamcakes, Pamelot, and the list goes on.
I was thinking about these stories, hearing my name shouted by MS students, remembering how and when people came up with these nicknames. It’s flattering to look back and to see that my name is worth celebrating to some. I’m so grateful for my friends being a support system, but I rarely think of myself as a valuable part of their lives. Same with my students. I love them, even though they sometimes drive me crazy (especially at lock-ins- BUH). They do weird things like cling to my ankles so I can’t move. But it’s their way of showing affection. And I don’t want to forget these small moments.
pmcmillan
Pamera!!