What’s in a Name?
My sixth grade ODS name was Dragonfly. It was my favorite insect at the time and I couldn’t wait to decorate the slice of wood that would become my name tag for the week. I remember practicing the design on paper over and over until it looked just right. I still have that woodcookie. Whenever I see it I get a little emotional because though I am several years removed from my twelve-year-old self, the core of me is still her and she doesn’t seem that long ago.
When I became a high school cabin leader, there was no question that I would be Dragonfly - until it had already been claimed by another staff member. I had to choose something else and I was STRESSING out. One’s ODS name was a big deal and it had to feel right. I ended up going to the library and getting out a heavy, underused nature encyclopedia and committed to opening it up at random, pointing to a word and adopting whatever was landed on as my name. I wasn’t entirely elated but I also wasn’t distraught when I tentatively lifted my finger to reveal: PERIWINKLE. I mulled it over. It was a flower. It was an aquatic organism. It was a color. A periwinkle wasn’t just one thing, it could be many. I liked that. I took it and painted it on a new woodcookie.
I kept Periwinkle as my name through high school cabin leader years and college field study instructor years. In 2001, I was hired as the Philomath Outdoor School Director to replace the recently retired, Dragonfly (yes, the same one mentioned above and one of the most wonderful people I know). I found it a magical coincidence to be transitioning again from Dragonfly to Periwinkle.
Those who have adopted ODS names know the joy of being recognized post programming by students or fellow staff members and called out by that name. It becomes a piece of our identity for the rest of our lives. After 20 years my woodcookie is looking pretty worn out. Pieces of bark around the outside have fallen off, the twine is almost worn through, the caterpillar that was once soft and fuzzy has been exposed to rain and wind and sun and hail and…yet it still hangs on (I seriously do not know how). As aged as it’s becoming, when I hang it around my neck I feel more “me” than I do without it. The twine is just long enough that the woodcookie part rests right where my heart is - seemingly another magical coincidence.