Bees make me extremely jumpy, whether they are the bumble or the spelling variety. (I’m neutral about quilting bees.)
I was an avid spelling bee competitor in elementary school. I was good at them, but I didn’t enjoy them. They stressed me out. Why didn’t I throw them on purpose? I could have done that, spelled it
R-E-L-E-I-F out of the gate and put myself out of my misery. Or heck, how about spelling relief R-O-L-A-I-D-S?
…No, I couldn’t have done that.
I won the third-grade bee on the word eclipse, and they put my name on the sign outside the principal’s office, one of those black things with rickety silver legs and grooves for the white plastic letters, the kind of sign that’s always ripe for anagrammatic mischief.
I also won the fourth grade bee and advanced to the school competition, where I fell victim to the ignorance of our principal, a thin gray man who always nodded solemnly at us students while patrolling the halls.
I lost on the word “chortle,” which is featured in “Jabberwocky,” a poem I had learned by heart the previous year. I knew the poem cold, including the etymology of the word.
- chortle: probably blend of chuckle and snort
I can still recite “Jabberwocky” without breaking a sweat.
The principal, who was calling the words, pronounced it with a K sound rather than a CH.
“Kortle.”
I asked him to repeat it.
“Kortle.”
I asked him to use it in a sentence, which of course he couldn’t do because I’d already asked to have the word repeated.
My voice wavered.
“C-O-R-D-I-A-L?”
“I’m sorry, that’s incorrect.”
I sat down as a fifth grader with long blonde hair intoned:
“C-H-O-R-T-L-E.”
I wish I could remember my exact thought at that moment. What is the fourth-grade equivalent of “YOU ARE SHITTING ME”?
I was robbed.
And I knew something that my principal didn’t know.
I knew something that grownups didn’t know.
That afternoon I vented to my parents, who had been in the audience. I knew something my parents didn’t know. They offered to go to the principal and ask for a rematch, see what they could do. I thought about it for a long time. I considered those rows of metal folding chairs on the cafeteria stage, the long rows of letters in my head as I visualized each word, the flat sound of my voice through the microphone, the Scripps-Howard booklet I’d received containing columns of words interspersed with photos of triumphant children grinning at the national competition.
I declined their offer.
The following year I won the fifth-grade bee, and the school bee as well. My prize was more gut-wrenching anxiety, this time at the regional level. More folding chairs, more letters lining up in my head, a new booklet with new grinning children.
My father took off work that morning to take me. We sat in our breakfast nook beforehand, my Scripps-Howard book in his hands, him in his suit, and he quizzed me.
Apprehensive.
A-P-P-R-E-H-E-N-S-I-V-E.
Belligerent.
B-E-L-L-I-G-E-R-E-N-T.
Streusel.
S-T-R-E-U-S-S-E-L?
At the bee, I made it through about three rounds. Then:
“Streusel.”
I looked over the heads of the audience, over Dad and Principal Chortle sitting next to him, but I couldn’t see the letters.
I felt relief.
S-T-R-U-E-S-S-E-L.
I had bungled the bee for the last time.
I still can’t spell that word correctly. I couldn’t see the letters, and I still can’t. But I can see my father, sitting at the white formica table in our breakfast room, his dark suit a reminder of appointments shuffled and sales calls delayed. The morning light pouring through the sliding glass door, forming a silhouette. S-I-L-H-O-U-E-T-T-E. Thumbing through the Scripps-Howard booklet, full of many words he didn’t know how to spell either, the answers were right there in front of him, along with the triumphant children. And me, his firstborn.
15 Responses to “bees”
Leave a Reply
Search
Asides
» I have been remiss in posting SBJ’s latest stats: 23 pounds and 27 inches at six months. Yes, I’ve got the big mama biceps.
» Aaaaaand little she-who-is lost another tooth this week!
» SBJ is four months old, 19 pounds 5 ounces, and 26 inches tall. GIGANTOR!
Links
Join | List | Prev | Next Random | Prev5 | Next5
Skip Prev | Skip Next
Join | List | Prev | Next |
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.
Our city champion speller, #1 Son, went out at the County Bee on “croup.” I remember sending the mental message, “rhymes with group, rhymes with group.” Considering the number of times he kept me awake when having croup, it was a somewhat pitiful ending. Oh, speeling beas!!
Ha! We had a spelling bee in my elementary school once, but it wasn’t as formal as what these sound like (no books to study, etc…) It was when I was in fourth grade, and while we were practicing I remember my teacher was surprised I knew how to spell “sophomore.” I got to represent my class, but bombed out on the big day with “rhythm” (I added an extra “y” in the second syllable.)
Anyway, once again, beautiful writing. You have a way with words.
Wow….what a grim procedure to put kids through. So glad that nothing like that exists on this side of the Pond. The worst we are subjected to is an in class, pen and paper spelling test…My stomach got all knotted just reading about your experiences. Scary stuff!
Even as a child, you handled things like this with such grace. Until today, I never knew your “feelings” about spelling bees. Thanks for sharing them now.
Songbird, I’ve thought many times about the parent’s perspective. I wanted so much to delight Dad (and both my parents, really) and now that I have children of my own I realize–all I really had to do was get up in the morning.
And I’m sure it was pins and needles for them to watch me do well and then go down.
I couldn’t figure out how to fit all that into what I wrote, but it’s been an important piece of it as I’ve thought about it.
Mamala, I do think an unflappable exterior is one of my gifts–it’s what in ministry they call a “non-anxious presence.” The flip side is, why did I feel like I had to do it if I didn’t enjoy it? Well, I enjoyed it a little, but it was stressful.
I just watched a movie, on netflicks, about the national spelling bee. It was fascinating. I am grateful we had nothing more than the occasional classroom bee in my school. I would have been a nervous wreck had the stakes been higher!
have you read “bee season”. it’s about a very strange family! the dad teaches the daughter to spell by way of studying the kabala. i really enjoyed it! and you do get the sweaty palms feeling of the spelling bee portrayed quite forcefully.
once upon a time i was a decent speller. i’ve lost that capacity because of spell-check, age, or lack of interest.
Another spelling bee champ here, but I never went beyond the school district level. It was terrifying.
such an interesting post.
but streusel ??? erm ???
My bee story:
It was the school spelling bee when I was in the sixth grade. It was down to me and some dorky, overachieving fifth grader (not that I’m bitter), and the word was “manufacture”, except to me it sounded just like “manufacturer” I repeated the word that I heard, “manufacturer?” to the teacher, and he did not correct me, just repeated what he’d said. Why I did’t ask for it to be used in a sentence, I don’t know, but I spelled out m-a-n-u-f-a-c-t-u-r-e-r, and as soon as I finished, the dorky fifth grader started laughing, because he knew he’d won. He went to the county spelling bee instead of me.
(Okay, maybe I’m a tiny bit bitter…)
What IS it with these educators and their inability to pronounce things properly?
I wet my pants once during a spelling test in second grade. Never could whip up much enthusiasm for spelling competition aftern that.
excercise
Maybe that’s why I hate it so much.
just read a great review on a film about a spelling bee - thought you might like it
http://benwitherington.blogspot.com/2006/04/akeelah-and-bee-gets-a.html
be blessed (off to read your other posts now)
C-A-T-E-P-I-L-L-A-R lost it for me at the district bee. I’d swear he said, “Caterpillar.” Maybe he did.
If I can do anything, kids, I can spell. (except that time).