What's in a Name, Anyway?

When I was in school, and perhaps today also, the students figure out clever, witty and often a stupid simile to fit our initials or to create a rhyme. I was Pat Davis, so I was named Police Department or Patty Watty. My daughter was Ellen Gracey, so she was "Ellen, Ellen, watermelon." How about "Tony, Tony, macaroni!" How about "Silly Lilly?" It could probably be termed as abuse today, but in my day it was just what we did.

Students were also identified by their accomplishments; sometimes loosely called talents. When I was in Kindergarten (in Mojave) our teacher was Mrs. Plank, another funny name. She was a widow with two children; Miriam and Paul. Miriam was ahead of me two grades but Paul was only four. Mrs. Plank brought him to school each day because he was no trouble to speak of and it eliminated a baby sitter. Paul, however, knew how to stand on his head. What an accomplishment! Sometimes in the moments before the dismissal bell we watched Paul do his trick. I never could stand on my head but my brother could.

Speaking of accomplishments, the Yates Twins were in our class. Identical twins that could fool anyone trying to tell them apart, except us, their classmates. They were much alike but different in facial expression even though the features were the same. We called them William (not Bill) and Dick (not Richard). The Yates Twins could wiggle their ears; both ears at the same time! Sometimes, Mrs. Webb, our Fifth Grade teacher would occasionally let the twins show off their talent for us during the very last minutes of class time.

They, the twins, used to perform little boxing matches during the Fourth of July celebration. There were never any knockouts; just judges decisions. Local boxing fans used to admire their ability and their footwork and after the match people would throw money into the ring. One time Dick could not get his boxing glove off and William got most of the money. I am sure they had to divide it equally, though.

The same grammar school, later called Wells, was a lovely new building when we attended. I began in 1937 after we moved to Tehachapi when I was nine and in the Fourth Grade. It had been built just two years before in 1935 for the astounding cost of $43,000!

It was a beautiful school architecturally and the Fifth, Sixth, Seventh and Eighth Grade classrooms faced the city park which afforded a lovely view. Teachers, often, had to remind us to get back to work and stop staring out the windows. Maybe that's why schools today have no windows. Local man Hugh Vasquez, another of my classmates, remembers the fine slate blackboards and the roomy cloak rooms for our lunch boxes and coats. He and I shared a few good laughs when I called him for some information today. We especially remembered the fun times at school, both Grammar and good old Tehachapi High.

A well remembered fact from Wells were the wonderful names some of the teachers had. What fun we had making rhymes that we did not openly tout. Mr. Wells, was the Principal and it was only his second year when I came but he had a funny name (to us). I used one of the names we had for him in one of my columns: "Wells bells!" I am sure the boys had another adjective for his name, also.

Of course, one of our favorite names was the Sixth Grade Teacher, Mr. Duck. Mr. Duck's wife had a baby boy and the rumor was he had named it Donald, but of course he had not. Many years later, his wife died and he married a former THS teacher, Phoebe Cale. That's a good rhymer too, but we were out of school by that time.

Mrs. Webb, as aforementioned, was a wonderful, pretty lady, and we loved her. Besides the "three Rs," she taught us manners, poetry, folk dancing and how to get along with each other. She could always pick something about you that was good and mention it to you. She liked mpy stories.

There is always, in all classes, a camaraderie that develops that is almost family-like and is noticed by both students and teachers. Our class was no exception, and we had our own brand of humor and even a sense of protection, if something was amiss.

It was about 1939 that Miss Hood came to teach First Grade. Naturally, we did not see much of her except that she had an unusual name. She taught us, once a week, a class in Arts and Crafts, a subject in which she possessed great talent. She always called me "Patty" and I continued to feel like her student, even after I was an adult, until one afternoon, some years later, I had to bring her some crafts items for some project on which she was working. She was already retired by that time. When I came to her door, she said, "Come in, Patty," and I still felt like her student. But, after several minutes of conversation we finally clicked and I left as her friend; no longer her pupil. Her married name was Gladys Chabre who taught generations of Tehachapi children.

There was a Miss Horn, a gorgeous blonde, who didn't last long but her name was funny to us. She played a mean piano and somebody married her and she left. Hugh Vasquez did not remember Miss Horn but he asked me if I recalled a young Kindergarten teacher who came when we were in eighth grade: Jane Edwards. She had no funny name but was "drop dead gorgeous" and didn't stick around long either.

There was a Miss Walton whom we couldn't make much of except "Miss Walnut" but she taught the whole school music. That's who taught us to read music, taught us to sing harmony and introduced historical, patriotic and just pretty songs for us to sing.

Even as an adult I was given names by some friends. The late Bobby Lee Smith (called Fox Tail) used to call me Patty Lou. Joan Johnson sometimes calls me "Patsy," a name nobody else ever gave to me before. The late, Bert McLaughlin (many of my friends are "late" these days) used to call me "Paderewski." I think I liked that one best of all.

As the years go by the things that were silly and funny remain only as very dear, good memories, and that's how it should be.