The Last Straw of my Last Name
I’ve been deigning History classes at a community college recently. It’s a sad outlook but I get my A easily and that’s all I care about this summer.
Anyway, I only have two more weeks left and the teachers there still can’t say my last name properly. My professors are pretty legit; one is 70 years old and reads straight from the book but has the quirky humor of a recent college graduate; the other is a 6.5 foot Irish U.S. War Veteran who was an alcoholic and smoker and has great stories to tell.
The first two weeks of class as he took role, my second professor called me by “Kalapatutu,” “Kalapatu,” “Kala oidthaorhgfnaldfgi,” and “Kalaputata” and other variations of “Kala” with a crash and burn sound appended at the end where it sounded like he was having a seizure as he was saying it. After two weeks of not saying my name properly, and of my saying “You’re missing a couple syllables” and “It’s Kalapatapu” he reverted to calling me “Krishna” and decided to consult his speech therapist.
Oddly enough—actually strike that - it’s normal considering how disfunctional he is—my second “professor” has a speech therapist who is an androgenous German woman with short (for a woman), rough, prickly hair that looks like it’s been aroused by a Van de Graff machine. Her accent is worse than Arnold Schwarzenegger’s apparently because my professors mimic’s her. And he decided to tell us about it.
Him (to us) : “So I finally got my chance to go to my speech therapist this Wednesday. I asked her how to say your (points at me) last name. And when I went there she said:”
Therapist (start German accent): “That name doesn’t exist, you’re just making it up to give me more trouble (she smacks his head). Now get back to pronouncing this word (points to a notecard)”
Him (to Therapist): “Yes it does! I have a student in my class with that name”
Him (to me): “One of these days, I’ll bring her to class and introduce you to her (Evil Laugh).”
-continues taking roll- XD
