My father was a cropduster, kind of a barnstorming migrant occupation, so we moved from town to town, according to the season and where the bugs were.
Sometimes I went to two or three different schools during the year. My least favorite moment was when the teacher said something like, “Kids, we have a new student. His name is Roger Snodgrass.”
I think there were few times when I didn’t hear at least a snigger and often many sniggers.
It took awhile for me to accept my name.