What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet - William Shakespeare, “Romeo and Juliet”
The sound of children laughing and playing filled the air like a symphony as the warm, early afternoon sun smiled down from the heavens. Children of all colors enjoyed the companionship of their schootmates in the yard of Courier Elementary School. Yet, like all blessed events, this, too, must come to an end. The school bell rang out announcing the end of recess as the joyous, happy faces of the children turned more sullen as the thought of more school was now their reality for the next few hours.
As the third-grade class filtered into the classroom, they each took their seats as Mrs. Robinson stepped up to the blackboard. Myrtle Robinson, an acclaimed educator, was anything but young. Her face was wrinkled from the combination of cigarettes and over exposure to the sun. Her orthopedic heels clacked with an arduously slow rhythm, her movement limited by her arthritis. She wore glasses, with frames fashioned somewhere around 1955. Her attire was as dated as her face with full skirt, long-sleeved blouse that buttoned at the base of the neck with a choker collar. Her gray and blue hair fashioned in a bun on the top of her head. She was the epitomy of school marm.
Mrs. Robinson, despite being dressed like a relic, exemplified the qualities of modern teacher. She was the first to employ the use of computers in her class. She encouraged children to use the internet. She believed that modern technology would grant more than just glimpses of carnal pleasure to the masses. She truly believed it would educate the world. She enjoyed using the high-definition television to showcase television specials detailing a range of subjects available to educators on the national public broadcasting channels. Her DVD’s were all blu-ray, something which other teachers hadn’t employed as of yet. Everything in her class was built upon the premise that education can be fun and informative at the same time.
So, when she opened the last few hours of class, she was caught unprepared for a question from one student in particular. She offered the class, everyday after recess, to ask her a question. From this question, the next lesson would be taken. The studious individual, one Tyler Inman, described as a precocious child with a penchant for spying on the girls in the cloakroom asked the learned teacher, “If there are no islands here, then why are we called the Arial Islands?”
The already pale face of Myrtle Robinson grew even more pale as she froze on the spot. The question was simple, in all reality, but the answer was more complex. It wasn’t so much that Mrs. Robinson didn’t know the answer, but whether or not she could discuss it with children so young was the real reason.
The school district was tolerant toward what it deemed controversial subjects. A progressive curriculum aimed at making the nations youth more prepared for the ‘real world’ worked very well. Still, her trepidation, becoming more evident by the attentive faces expecting the answer, grew exponentially every second.
Towards the center of the nation is a curious formation. Two round-top mountains which resembled bossoms almost perfectly. No one is exactly sure how they formed such a look, but through erosion, it is believed they achieved their curious form over the centuries. As the people came to the land, they named these Ariel’s Mountains after the woman by whom they were discovered. Of course, the roudy settlers were mostly men that had either cross an entire continent to reach the land, or sailed from far-off destinations. Thus they took on the term Ariel’s Brests by the lonely men. Of course, this was a colloquial term for the unusual formation.
As more modest people arrived, such a terminology couldn’t be continued. While still, to this day, called the Ariel Mountains, refering to them by their crude name was, for all intents and purposes, no longer acceptable. A general term became to refer to them as Ariel’s Islands–though they’re not surrounded by water. The unfortunate problem being that, once people get a name into their heads, they tend to stick with it. Soon this land, unofficially referred to as Ariel’s Islands as late as 1780, soon grew in population. When it came time to become a recognized, soverign nation, the name basically stuck. Officially, on January 1, 1799, when the nation officially adopted a Constitution, the name was officially adopted. Yet, one other point, the name on the Constitution spelled the name of the nation as “Republic of Arial Islands” without a posessive 's or an e before the l in arial.
“A misnomer, Tyler.” Mrs. Robinson replied. “A simple misnomer.”
“What’s a misnomer?” he asked.
“It means when something is named incorrectly. Now, any other questions?”