My students have a nickname for me. They call me “Mister Woo”. You know that they like you if you have a nickname, at least one they can call you in front of your face.
It all started three years ago during the first couple months at my new high school. I was not so worried about teaching. I knew my subject. I was more worried about trying to fit in. This new school was small, only 250 or so students. I was coming from teaching in a large, public high school with 1400+ students. The idea of a small school was completely new to me. I even graduated from a large high school with over 2500 students, 800 in my class alone. Ironically, I went to a relatively small college with about 2500 students too. Either way, 250 was something I was not used to. With only 250 students, you get to know everybody, and everybody gets to know you.
The other thing about this new school was that it was a catholic school. It was a community based on faith, and I didn’t have any at the time. Looking back, I know that is why I ended up there.
Well, about every Wednesday, our bell schedule has a one hour period at the end of the day set aside for community time. The whole school gets together, usually in the auditorium, for something. Sometimes it will be a guest speaker, a guest performance group like drama or a band, the school play, talent show, pep rallies, prayer services, Mass once a month in the church across the street, etc. To keep things organized, everybody must sit with their homeroom. Homerooms are assigned seats in rows of two’s and three’s with the senior homerooms clumped together, juniors together, and so on. They always rearrange the order of the homerooms so that everyone gets a chance to sit near the front. The homeroom teachers’ names are printed on a piece of paper and taped to the back of chairs to designate their area.
As luck would have it, my name was misspelled. Now, I have seen my name “Woodward” misspelled many times. Usually the second “w” is missing (especially in the southern U.S.). But this was the first time the first “d” was missing—Wooward. To be honest, I didn’t notice the misspelling for the first couple weeks. When I did, I remember thinking, “That’s my luck. So much for first impressions.” I was still so new, I didn’t even know to whom to complain.
A couple weeks later, one of my more adventurous students started calling me “Mister Woo”. I didn’t know what to think of it at first. Before too long, it had caught on, and most of my students were calling me that. Then a teacher or two, my own colleagues, starting calling me “Mister Woo” too. When finally, near the end of that school year, the principal introduced me to someone by my new nickname, I knew I was stuck with it forever.
I knew back at that Christmas break that I had found a home at my new school. One that has managed to open the door to my heart wider than I ever thought possible.
It is funny how something as simple as a nickname can make you feel accepted and loved, a part of a community. I mean a real part, not someone tolerated at the fringe. That’s what a Christ-centered community can do for people. Invite them in. Make them feel welcome. It is then up to that person to choose how to respond.
My nickname has come with a second blessing. It seems that no one can say it without smiling. And that is part of why my heart still beams with joy every time I hear someone say, “Hey Mister Wooooo…”