KAITLIN SCHLUTER | arts & culture editor
Our school prides itself on having good—no, great—community and I completely agree. There is something peculiar about this campus that prompts me to smile at strangers or offer to open the door for someone after me, and in effect, I’ve shaken many hands.
However a community isn’t just about these externalities, no matter how sincere they appear. Community is about maintaining those relationships through a simple gesture that APU seems to lack: remembering names.
I’m not a name person, I’ll admit it, but I always believed this disorder issued a narrow diagnosis that could be corrected with practice.
Not being a name person means forgetting someone’s name the second time you meet someone. These people may suffer from neck pains caused by leaning over their neighbor’s notebook to catch the name written at the top.
And yet, these instances only occur with individuals who never got farther than the “What’s your major?” question.
I wouldn’t say I’m a forgettable person but in some cases it has gotten a little out of hand, leaving me frustrated with the lack of attention offered.
It has taken two introductions, an hour discussion at lunch about careers, a thirty-minute conversation at an event, hanging out with a group of friends and another introduction for one individual to remember my name. Even then, I’m sure this individual still doesn’t have a clue.
Even worse, there are people in my hall who still don’t know the name of the person who lives three doors down from them. And we’re two months into our second semester.
Is it really that hard to remember someone’s name after the sixth introduction or after living with him or her?
I think not.
We may not be forced to participate in name games like high school but the constant repetition of meeting a person should cause one to remember.
In my Exodus and Deuteronomy course, I learned that the Hebrews valued the knowledge of a name. You see Moses asking God his name in Exodus with a sincere desire to know. To their culture, a name provided the insight about a person’s personality.
Even in our culture the same is evident. Take the eager parents who spend hours sorting through baby name books and websites to find the perfect word to characterize their child. When my mom named me, she chose the name Kaitlin because it means “pure one.” Purity is a characteristic my mother hoped to be developed in me. It had meaning.
If a name was so important then, and to our parents, why is it that now people don’t care enough to recall? There’s some rushing feeling that results when someone remembers your name because it shows that they cared. They listened to you.
I suggest the next time you lean in to shake someone’s hand, pay attention and remember their name.
