My name is Brooke.

My name is Brooke.

It's really that simple.

Say it with me. Brooke.

Here, I'll even spell it out for ya: B-R-O-O-K-E

The sheer simplicity of those six letters is the main reason why I really cannot grasp the fact that all my teachers have been getting it wrong for the past 12 years.

I don't know why, but for some reason I thought that would change when I went to France. But alas, I was mistaken.

Despite my compaining, I do have some compassion and understanding for the people who simply cannot fathom the whole, "I go by my middle name," thing.

That fact alone has always made the first day of school amusing for me.

First days always start the same...

Teacher: "Ok kids, I'm going to take attendance...sorry if I butcher your name...if you have a nickname you'd like the be called, let me know...blah blah blah."

Then he or she proceeds to read the list of names.

'Payton' is called, everyone laughs, I say I go by 'Brooke,' he or she usually asks me why, claiming how 'Payton' is such a lovely name*, I blame my parents, and we move on. It's a very predictable process which I've grown extremely accustomed to.

*Yes, I agree when teachers say that 'Payton' is a pretty name, but I never know if they realize that they're basically insinuating that 'Brooke' is not.

Was that a compliment, or an insult? Uh, thanks, I think...?

There are always exceptions to the process, though.

For instance, Mrs. Strobel threw me for a loop the first day of 5th grade math class.

"Richard Moyer?"..."Here. I prefer 'Rick'."..."Ok, 'Rick' it is."

"Tessa Mundell?"..."Here."

"Payton Mmm-ma-maamoo*?"

*Though I'm quite conscientious about the correct execution of my first name, I've never really cared much about my last. I understand that it looks intimidating, and over the years I've just stopped correcting people. In fact, when asked how to actually pronounce it, often times I'll either tell them I really don't know, or that they can say it as they please. It's always either totally annihlated, or left completely alone and forgotten.

However, personally, I don't think it's that complicated. With just a little effort, I believe correct pronounciation can easily be achieved. I mean seriously, there are only 3 letters*. But I am aware that most people don't have the time for such trivial matters.

*Being a semi- professional con artist, the fact that 'Mummau' has only 3 letters has come in handy in the past, and plays a role in one of my simplest cons. I have been able to convince numerous people, on numerous occasions, that I am Hawaiian. The 12- letter Hawaiian alphabet, paired with my flawless story of leaving the island when I was an infant, has gotten more people than I'd like to admit. My grandfather 'Tito' and grandmother 'Lailani' are usually just icing on the cake. Little do my victims know, I got those names off of my favorite childhood cartoon, 'Rocket Power.' So if you've fallen for the Hawaii story, don't be ashamed. You won't be the last.

Back to 5th grade math class...

She read my name, and I heard the laughter, so I knew it was time to set her straight. Very calmly, I stated that I would like to be called 'Brooke.'

And you know what she said?

She said no.

Had I heard her correctly? I was shocked.

She said that when she asked students to specify their nicknames, she didn't mean for the students to make up new names entirely.

I remember sitting there slack jawed, while she explained to me the purpose of a nickname, and how I had completely missed that purpose.

Of course, it took some more explaining, and even more laughter from my peers, but we finally got the whole thing figured out.

The conversation ended with:

"Oh, but why don't you like "Payton*? It's such a pretty name!"

There you go, ma'am. That's how you're supposed to respond.

*The truth is, it's not that I don't like the name. I'm actually quite fond of it. And yes, on numerous occasions, I have tried to go by that name, usually prompted by my friends saying that that's what they're going to start calling me. Of course, it usually only lasts a couple hours, if that, before they forget and start calling me 'Brooke' again. I've been 'Brooke' since I was born. I think it's a little too late in the game to try and change it now.

Then of course, I have the special cases that are just so funny, it's impossible to be annoyed.

Exhibit A:

Sophomore year.

AP European History.

Mr. Sisk.

Mr. Sisk was one of my favorite teachers ever. I'm a big fan of the teachers who tell it how it is, and aren't afraid to tell you that you suck. I like teachers who actually seem like real people. The ones who teach you more than what the textbooks say. Mr. Sisk is one of those teachers, and as a bonus, he does it with a sense of humor.

As expected, I went through the name explanation on the first day, he marked it in his book, and we moved on.

During the first couple months, he would always address me as 'Payton,' and everyone would laugh and say 'it's Brooke.' It never bothered me because I knew he was just doing it to bug me, and frankly I found it extremely comical.

This continued throughout the entire year, until I was finally sitting in my last class of AP Euro ever.

"PAYTON. (he always seemed to yell my name, for some reason) What are you doing this summer?" he asked

*stiffled giggles from the class, and the select few who actually look around to see who 'Payton' is*

"Mr. Sisk. It's Brooke," I said

Just then, there was a defeaning silence, his face went blank, and he stared at me with wide eyes for what seemed like an eternity.

"What?" he whispered

"My name. It's Brooke." I replied

At that, all the color, and then some, returned to his face, and he appeared flustered, yelling aloud every thought that came into his mind at once.

"ARE YOU KIDDING?! I've been calling you the wrong name for the entire year?! Why didn't you say anything?!"

He had crossed the room and was now towering over me at mt desk when I stated cooly:

"Mr. Sisk, I have told you. I tell you every day."

And that was that.

All along I had thought he was just messing with me, but it turns out, he genuinely had no idea he was wrong.

Up until yesterday, that story had help the #1 position in my list of name catastrophies.

I feel as if I should briefly mention the #2 catastrophie, and I promise it WILL be brief, because I've gone on long enough without actually reaching the real point of the story.

Here are the facts:

I'm 13.

I'm a level 7 gymnast.

I'm at the annual 'Dutch Classic Invitational' gymnastics meet, and they're about to give out the award for the uneven bars.

The announcer, also my coach at the time, reads the names one by one, starting with 5th place.

He reads the names for 5th, 4th, 3rd, and 2nd, while the girls take their appropriate places on the podium.

"And first place, with a score of 9.45, from Berks Gymnastics, BROOKIE MUMMAU."

I know what you're thinking. So what. He called me 'Brookie.' It could have been worse.

Trust me. It gets worse. Way, way worse.

I then walked up to the podium, and respectively took my spot on the top block. First place.

Then, just as one of the assistants placed the gold medal around my neck, I stopped cold.

The announcer, (still my coach) was singing into the microphone. No, rapping, rather. And finally, I made out what it was that he was chanting.

"Ma- ma- ma moo mow mow, moo mow mow, ma- ma- ma moo mow mow, moo mow mow..."

It was my name. He was chanting my name. And everyone in the stands was...laughing.

I was mortified. You see, when I was younger, I found even the slightest reference to myself made by someone else utterly embarassing. So there I am, on top of the podium. With everyone staring, laughing, and hearing my name being chanted over the loud speakers.

I quit gymnastics that year.

Ok, finally, the moment you've been waiting for. The point to this entry.

And if you've skipped my entire monologue, and are only reading this part, good for you. You've just saved yourself from 10 minutes of boredom.

Congratulations. You may now pass 'Go' and collect $200*.

*I REALLY hate monopoly, but that's another totally pointless story that I'll have to bore you with on another day.

This is the story that bumps 'Sisk' and the 'Mummau Rap' down to # 2 and #3.

This is the FRENCH way to annihilate my name. And congratulations France, because this is a way that my name has never seen before.

It was monday, I was sitting in my second geography hour of the day, we were learning about the major mountain chains in France, and I was zoning.

Despite my dazed state, I could still hear my teacher telling the class that she hoped they already knew the mountains, because most of them spend their vacations there.

"Sauf que peut- etre BROCK, bien sur*."

*"Except for maybe BROCK, of course.

This mistake prompted an eruption of laughter from my classmates, a sound which I've gotten fairly used to over the years.

BROCK. Now that's creative. Aside from it being a boy's name, I don't actually think it's all that bad.

So there you have it. Three names. Six letters in each. All evidently impossible to decipher. This was made clear when my 'safe name' was finally mutilated this past monday. I think it's safe to say that the worst is over. I may have heard it all.

I do, however, believe that I have found a viable solution to the problem.

Just call me BOB.

Really.

I'm dead serious.

And if you mess that one up?

Well, good luck.