Another story from my past

I was living in California when I was in Kindergarten. I must have been about 6 years old. There were two other kids in my class named Patrick. This would make it very difficult to figure out who the teacher was calling on, especially since she usually refused to differentiate us in any useful way. I guess her thought was that we would be able to work it out on our own...she would usually call out "Patrick," to which the three of us would dutifully run to the front of the room. Once we got there, she would send the two superfluous Patrick's back to their interrupted activities.

Anyway, apparently, I got sick of this. So one evening, I asked my mother if I could change my name to Gabriel Rodriguez. I remember being perfectly serious about this request...I even walked up to her, bent down so my hand supported my weight on my knees, and looked her straight in the eyes...of course, she was sitting on the floor, so this seemed appropriate. After she finished laughing, she asked me why I would make such a request. I explained the three-Patrick situation, and informed her that there was only one Gabriel Rodriguez in the class, and I wanted to even things out.