NAME:_____________
The Schoolwork Signed, "Wolf"
🧠 Curious about the backstory and who the Demolition Brothers are? Meet the Why? Guy and the How Come? Kid here.
My younger son spent most of his preschool years eager to begin kindergarten. Elementary school was where his older brother got to do all the “big kid” stuff: borrow library books, ride his bike to school, receive a report card (even though there were no actual grades) and especially homework.
He wanted responsibilities. He wanted paperwork. He wanted to feel important.
By first grade, he was fully immersed in the serious work of elementary school. He brought home stacks of completed worksheets and classroom assignments, proud of how accurate and neatly his work was done.
Except that every few assignments, the work was not completed by my son.
It was completed by Wolf. Or Titus.
At the top of every worksheet was the familiar prompt:
NAME: _______________
Where I assume most children view it as the easiest part of the assignment and absentmindedly wrote the names they were given, my son occasionally filled in whatever name he was trying on that day.
His teachers eventually encouraged him to write his actual name on his actual schoolwork, which is fair. I am also grateful they did not come down too hard on him for briefly enrolling a revolving cast of unregistered first graders in their classroom.
He complied—mostly.
He now writes his own name, but still insists on capitalizing both the first and last letters. Think: LesleY.
Technically correct, but with his own flair.
The name experiments did not begin with school, and they certainly did not end there. Neither of my boys is particularly attached to a nickname, but every once in a while, one of them announces that he is now Floyoreen or Dragon Dearth or Techno Blade or Lloyd.
At first, I treated this like any number of childhood preferences that fall into the category of battles not worth fighting.
“Come put your shoes on.”
“I’m not Guy. I’m Floyoreen.”
“Okay, Floyoreen. Come put your shoes on.”
Win-win.
I have no deep need to remind Dragon Dearth that his birth certificate indicates another identity. If DD is willing to brush his teeth, wear pants, and get out the door, I am perfectly happy to include him in the family for the afternoon.
Seeing Wolf appear on my son’s homework made me consider whether the name-change is more than another minor inconvenience to manage around or simply another aspect of his quirky personality.
He had waited so long to become a big kid, where there are rules and directions, and adults expect you to begin to identify yourself correctly. When he finally got to school and discovered a blank line waiting for him, maybe it was irresistible!
Maybe Wolf feels fierce enough to do a wheelie off the curb and Titus has the confidence to battle through a lacrosse face-off. Or maybe Floyoreen means absolutely nothing beyond sounding spectacular when you are seven.
Either way, I found it endearing. I am not sure a correction would have been worth it, and letting it go seems to have benefited us all — or, at the very least, not harmed anyone.
Children need plenty of rules, boundaries, and reminders to stay within the lines. But this felt like one line I could let him fill in for himself.
So, if my son wants to capitalize the last letter of his name, I will let him.
And when Lloyd and Techno Blade appear on my routinely tampered-with digital calendar*, I make sure they each get to practice on time, no questions asked.
Author’s note: All alternate identities are accurate. I could not have made them up.
Previously posted on the Parenting Portal in Medium.
*As an Amazon Associate I earn from qualifying purchases.
Here is the one we use: Dragon Touch Digital Calendar
