At the beginning of the year, Mr. Dykstra found that the way I spell my name and the way it's supposed to be pronounced was "full of horse manure". Hearing this; it was like I had found out my entire life was a lie.
Although, my entire life, I've spent it being called abominations of names such as: Uh-lish-uh, and Alyssa. My personal favorite has to be Ashley. How do you even get that from my name, honestly?
Mr. Dykstra deemed me Bob from that day forth. I had no problem with such nickname between you and I, but then I found out that he's been naming other Alysha's the same thing. Wow, offensive much. I realize that we both happen to have the same name printed on our birth certificates, but maybe we should have different identifying nicknames. Sure, Bob is incredibly bland and tasteless, but maybe I wouldn't mind being dubbed as a Bill or Joe or something equally as generic.
Mr. Dykstra - I don't want you to think that I am trying to bash you on my blog. You are a very bright person and I very much enjoy your sense of humor. (Plus I actually learn about English from your class, which is something I've - sadly - not done since eighth grade with Mr. Wiedenheft.) But after finding out that you refer to people with other poorly spelled names as Bob, I got a little upset. (A little might be an understatement, though.) I went home and cried and refused to come out of my room because my mom called me by my real name, the one that haunts my birth certificate, reminding me of the seventh period events from every single day second semester.
It's a tragedy.
All in all, I felt the need to rant about my so-called individuality while having a little bit of fun.
P.S. - Sahan Jayawardena!