By Yangsook Choi
A Korean girl, new to an American school, almost trades her real name for an easier one before deciding it's worth keeping.
Unhei has just moved from Korea, and on her very first American school bus ride the other children stumble over her name and giggle at it. So when her teacher asks what she's called, Unhei says she hasn't picked a name yet. Her classmates decide to help, filling a glass jar with slips of paper, Suzy, Laura, Daisy, for her to choose from. But a boy named Joey follows her to the Korean grocery, learns that Unhei means grace, and gently helps her see that the name her grandmother gave her is the one she wants. On the day she's meant to choose, the jar has gone missing, and Unhei tells the class her real name.
It puts a very ordinary, very real worry, will the other children laugh at my name, right at the center, and it treats that worry with total respect. For any child who has felt like the new one, or whose name gets mispronounced, this is a mirror. For the rest of the class it's a window into what a first week in a new country actually feels like. And it says your name is yours and worth keeping without ever once preaching it.