My Name: Creative Exercise
One of my college professors taught junior level high school courses concurrently with his college level courses. The main purpose of the course was to help future teachers develop ways to engage their students in various types of writing. One way he did this was by giving us the same writing assignments as his high school students, one of which was the “My Name” assignment.
The purpose of this exercise is to have students research the origins and meaning of their names either through internet research or by asking family members. Students then take what they have learned and either write a narrative or poem based on their findings. I had a lot of fun doing this and reading the work of my peers. I think it’s a fun creative, low stakes assignment that provides writing practice for students. I could definitely see myself using it as an introductory writing assignment during those first few weeks of school.
Because I liked this assignment so much, I thought I’d share my interpretation here.
My Name
The Irish form of Catherine. Long associated with the Greek word katharos, meaning pure. Hecate, chief goddess of magic and spells is believed to be a possible source for the creation of this name. She held dominion over heaven, earth, and the sea, and was capable of good and evil. This goddess of the night found her home among the ghosts, hell-hounds, and other fearsome creatures. But through the darkness she carried an everlasting torch, guiding the lost when they found themselves stuck at a crossroads.
My grandmother’s name was Catherine. I was inadvertently named after her. According to legend she was as formidable as Hecate. This was a woman who with one look could cut you down as if she were swinging a broadsword. People trembled in her wake. And if you dared to insult, trick, or deceive her, she would kick you out on your back and smile as you scurried down the road, tail tucked between your legs.
In spite of her fearsome presence, she was a woman who loved deeply. When the daggers faded, only love remained. It seeped into everything she did — her smile, cooking, humming, the kiss she left on your cheek. Her love was pure.
My father says I have his mother’s eyes. In me he sees her temper, stubbornness, and heart. When choosing my name my parents had no idea the significance it held.
I carry the strength of her every day. I feel a connection to her fearsome independence and to the love she shared through selfless acts. She was all things and made no apologies for it. I am still learning how to step into my power, but I know she will be there to light the way.
What kind of writing exercises do you do to keep your creativity flowing? Let me know in the comments below.