Time passes and we are faced with changes. We move through many transitions; many of them relate to our identity. On my recent stay in India, a month teaching museum studies at the University of Rajasthan in Jaipur, I was given pause to reflect upon one aspect of this phenomenon. In this case, relationships with others.

I was fortunate to be able to join the Peace Corps immediately after graduating university. I was not called upon to put into direct use my individualized degree of African studies and textiles. Instead, I was placed in a teacher training college where my physical education students were learning to teach dance. After a year in the field and consultation with a college friend whom the Peace Corps had posted in Costa Rica, I realized that I was really teaching basic movement education.

In Jamaica I earned stage one of my identity: “Miss.” Students* of all ages address their female teachers formally as “Miss.” This appellation was not used exclusively by those in my classes, but also by others around town. One morning walking in a reputably dangerous area on a mission to observe my students in the field I heard a voice from afar, “Miss, your slip hanging.”

*I now live in an area with a well-established and sizeable Jamaican population. I love hearing the melodious accents of my past life. Sometimes I look at faces wondering if any of my students, so eager to learn, found their way to South Florida.

When I completed my two year term in Jamaica, I returned to enter graduate school and start on my path as a folklorist working in museums. Interestingly, the university I attended attracted a number of former Peace Corps volunteer also seeking graduate degrees. No titles here, however.

Time passed. Degrees were earned. I found myself in other settings in the US and abroad, in museums and in the classroom. My advanced degrees helped me enter a number of these settings. With them came another identity: “Doctor.” Back in the classroom whether teaching folklore, museum studies, anthropology, I transitioned to “Doctor Fromm.” In the American way, a few students* addressed me by my first name. At several of my jobs, where the doctorate played a role in getting hired, I was also transformed into “Doctor.”

*In this instance, from time to time I run into former students in town. Again, I’m “Doctor Fromm.”

The final stage in this identity transition occurred in my recent stay in India.* Quickly, A third identity was given to me: “Ma’am.” My department chair was addressed with her first name and Ma’am: Neekee Ma’am. A few students ventured to add my first name, most stuck simply to Ma’am.

*Actually, ten years ago, I was fortunate to teach museum studies at Hanyang University in Korea. The majority of my students were not English speaking. Thinking back, I don’t remember how I was addressed by them.

It’s now nearly six months post-India. I remain in touch with a few students, enjoy keeping up with their activities and accomplishments, hearing their voices. I guess you reach a certain age when you look back and consider your many experiences and adventures. I surely have had my fair share of them. With them come transitions, only one of which is captures identity.