Hello President Goffroy . or Geffree . or Jeffery? Has this been happening to you lately, Mr. Joe-free? You’re our newly installed president and no one’s getting your name right.

I understand how you feel, Geoffroy. Well, not that being the big cheese on campus bit, but I am the expert on having a name everyone pronounces incorrectly. My name, after all, is Cavan.

I mean – Cavan? Who thought of that? For a large portion of my childhood I was convinced my parents knew in advance they would hate me and tried to punish me by giving me this moniker. Now I know they just suspected I’d be weird.

In a conversation I believe I had with my Maker before he booted my soul into my body, I probably begged the guy (by “Maker” and “guy” I of course mean whichever nondescript, inoffensive term you prefer to insert when thinking of the being that created all) to name me something simple.

“Call me Jonathan. Nicholas. Matthew. Rothgar?”

Alas, no. It was decided that I would forever be called Cavan. And you are Geoffroy. We’ve probably had some similar experiences, you and I.

At least you have Gregory going for you. Even if people get the Cavan bit down, that long “e” in Reagan throws them off. Damn Ronald just had to go and change the way everyone pronounces our good ol’ Irish name.

Gregory Geoffroy. Now there’s a name for a president. But we have to do something to stifle the confusion about how to say that last name. Say, have you considered taking on a crafty, hip nickname? The key to getting a nickname is making it catchy, or at least something easy to say.

When people stumble over the second syllable in my name, I just tell them to cut it off. Hence, “Cav”! Also trendy right now are ultra-cutesy “Cavvy” and “That Darn Cav.”

How about “G.G.”? It has a ring to it, and you’ve got just the look to pull it off. That’s what we call my great grandpa. His name’s Gayle Green, so I bet I could even get away with calling him “G.G.G.G.” or maybe even “G to da fourth” for when we Reagans break into rap songs and maniacal dancing.

Maybe that whole “G” thang isn’t going to work for you, though. Well, nicknames didn’t make anyone warm up to our last president. But maybe that’s because we called him “creepy, bug-eyed money-grubber.” If only I’d been around when M.J. was installed, I could have helped him out a bit.

Ah, to hell with a nickname. Be proud of being Mr. Geoffroy. There are pluses to having a weird name. The name Cavan sticks in your head like oatmeal sticks to your tummy on a cold day in Minnesota when all the birds have flown south or, should they prefer to stay in Minnesota, have donned little wing-mittens and booties to keep warm.

The name George, though? Nobody remembers a name like George. It’s the “Cavan”s and “Geoffroy”s that belong in the history books. (But God forbid the name Cavan ever show up in a baby-name book.) The hard-to-pronounce name is a blessing in disguise. I still dread that first time a professor calls roll, when we yell back and forth our versions of how to pronounce my name.

“Cav-inn Ree-gun.”

“Cave-in Raygun?”

I’ve heard several variations of Cavan: Caravan, Coovan, Guavan, Craving. Apparently when a word confuses you, it’s okay to add a potpourri of letters just to worsen the situation.

Let’s not forget my sixth-grade D.A.R.E. instructor who yelled at me for not answering when he called on me, though he’d been calling me Karen, mistaking the “v” for an “r.”

But being one of a handful of “Cavan”s around the world comers in handy. There was a Saint Cavan with his own cathedral in Cavan County in Ireland, and I hear there are all sorts of Cavan County soccer teams. I don’t have to share that bounty with hundreds of other Cavans.

I’ve come to grips with my odd name. Despite the embarrassment when I accidentally reply to someone saying “cabin,” being the only person around with this name helps add a little something to my identity in a world full of “Mike”s and “Tim”s and “Mark”s.

So fear not, President Geoffroy. We’ll all learn how to say your name soon enough. And then it’ll stick to us, like that birds with mittens story I painted for everyone just a minute ago.

And when you tire of the student body clamoring to get your name down right – when you get sick of hearing “Hi Mr. Jethroy!” – just remember that the world loves a nickname. Okay, G.G.?

Cavan Reagan is a junior in journalism and mass communication and English from Bellevue, Neb. He is the research assistant for the Daily.