My sixth-grade teacher didn’t call students by their real names, but by nicknames that he invented for us. The names were unavoidable. He used them every day at roll call.
He called Eric Munn “Munnster,” and called a girl who’d dyed her hair “Blondie.” These names were harmless, but others seemed cruel. One boy got nicknamed “Liar,” because he’d supposedly cheated on a test and lied about it, and another was called “Criminal,” because he’d allegedly stolen a wallet, from someone else in class. I felt especially sorry for “Flowerboy,” who’d gotten his name after another student had seen him selling flowers on a street corner.
