Every now and then, my school’s cafeteria serves “Nachos Grande.” When I announce this meal option to my students, I add that “Nachos Grande” might be an excellent nickname for me that they might want to consider.
None do. Most groan.
I can’t imagine why.
While I continue to try to convince my students to adopt this nickname for their fearless leader, I am reminded of other names that I have been called in the past, including:
My mother: “The Instigator”
Many of my friends, especially those who have known me for two decades or more: “Matty”
High school bullies (noting my – at the time – exceedingly large head and slender frame): “Egg Head”
My high school French teacher: Dickus
My high school French teacher once my brother and I occupied the same class: Big Dickus
My high school girlfriend: “Trouble”
Elysha: “Skookum” (a word meaning “marked by strength or power, first-rate”)
A college professor: “The Opposition”
Another college professor: “The Not-So-Silent Minority”
A class of students about a decade ago: “The Grinch”
Golfing buddies who workshopped two different insults into one: “A neckless stump with legs for arms”
My friend and former principal: “Arms like legs and legs like people”
Friends who know how disaster often strikes when I’m around: “The Matty Factor”
Adding “Nachos Grande” to this list would make me very happy, though I don’t see it coming any time soon.
