Speling Bea Reecap

You know, I really need to get out more. My idea of yesterday about what this round of spelling bee competition would be like was way off base. No feet smell, no stifling gym, no stage parents agonizing over each word. Very normal, which is the way it should be.

You know how much I like proper spelling, even if my own brain fades every so often (Sidney is just some guy who lives in Australia. Sydney is where he lives) because it is so important in my work. Imprecision can be a very bad thing, whether it’s a numerical dimension or a material specification. Good spelling is a good thing. I’m not sure that spelling bees are the best way to get that across; after all, knowing how to spell a word and being able to use it in the proper fashion are two separate things, and the single-mindedness of the bee doesn’t quite get that message across. Some folks get a little too carried away with it, but in the end, I suppose it is better than having a crack-smoking bee, or a giant papier-mache-effigy-head-making bee, or a making-up-silly-slogans-that-rhyme-with-Halliburton bees. And as I said, this group of parents and kids we were with yesterday seemed to have themselves pretty well connected. There was no crying and anguish, just some time away from school and some punch and cookies, and a nice round of hand shaking for the participants.

I left work and went to the middle school to get Ashley, which took a while. The secretary sent someone to go get her, and I think they forgot. The time waiting was spent trying to figure out what is wrong with some people. A little girl came in who I suppose must have been a fifth-grader. Teeny little thing not much taller than Catherine, my Preschoolerus Robustus. I guess she was probably 10 or ll. And wearing makeup. ::sigh:: [old fart] Folks, I suppose you are the best judge for your family, but letting what amounted to a baby glop on man-grabbing paint is just a bit too much. (Even more egregious is that she had on that horrid white eyeshadow that all the big girls are wearing that makes you look like a vervet monkey.) [/old fart]

Anyway, after sending the second runner, they finally managed to track Oldest down, and we loaded her and her ninety pound backpack and her gigantic baritone clarinet case into the van and dropped by the house to pick up Mom and were off to Irondale. This round was for the 11 or so elementary and middle schools in the eastern part of Jefferson County—the winner of this one will go on to the 76th Annual Jefferson County Spelling Bee, which will have the winners of the other four district areas.

We were the first to arrive and were led back to a classroom where there were some refreshments and two closed circuit televisions set up. Ahhh—good way to keep down the possibility of signaling—the kids were going to be in the library, and the parents and spectators would stay in here to watch. Good idea, AND there was food.

The coordinator let Ashley draw a number for starting order—number 2. She didn’t want to go first, so this was a small comfort to her. We sat down and then Reba’s mom came in, then Ashley’s other grandparents, and a small trickle of other people and their kids. It was past time to start, and there were still only about six kids there. It turns out that four of the kids had either forgotten about the date or thought it was today. One of those kids (the only boy in the group) was the only one of the forgetful ones to be able to get there. The rest were, unfortunately, slap outta luck.

The teachers escorted the kids out to the library, and we turned to the teevees. Short welcome and introduction of the judges and the word caller, and then the kids. They had reassigned numbers to the six kids based on what they drew to begin with, and Ashley wound up first, whether she liked it or not, then there was a little girl from Clay Elementary, Clay Middle, the boy from Leeds Elementary, another little girl from Chalkville Elementary, and one from Irondale.

And then it was go-time.

Ashley was first up, and the first word was “platform.” Got it. Round one, and no one missed.

Round two, Ashley’s word was “hornet.” No sweat. And no one else missed.

Round three, Ashley’s word was “snicker.”

I thought.

What did the caller say? Was it “sneaker,” or “snicker”? This might not be good—the caller was a gracious older lady who is the reading coordinator at Irondale, and had a lovely, rich, cultured, old-money, Southern accent. WHICH IS NOT WHAT YOU NEED TO PRONOUNCE WORDS FOR KIDS TO SPELL!! And now it was becoming apparent that it was throwing some of the kids off. “Th’ wuhd is ‘snih-kah’.” Snicker? Sneaker? To her, they were homophonic! Oh lord—

Sneaker…S-N-E-A-K-E-R…Sneaker.

Correct. Whew!

Then there was the first dropout—“Th’ wuhd is ‘BOHw-luh’.” Uh-oh. The little girl needed it defined. “A hahrd hat made of felt, with a rowwnd top and a cuhrved, narrah bri-uhm; also called a duhr-by” Oh. Then needed it in a sentence, which I dare not reproduce here.

B-O-U-L-E-R. Nope. Five left.

Round four, Ashley’s word was “scornfully.” Spot on. No one else out.

Round five, Ashley’s word was “turtle.” Although it sounded like “tuttle.” No trouble. Then the next kid got hit. “Supplant.” Needed it defined, needed it used in a sentence.

S-U-P-L-A-N-T You could hear her mom over to the side sigh—“Oh no, she’s out—it’s supposed to be ‘s-u-r-p-l-a-n-t’.” Four kids left standing.

Round six, Ashley got “MAIGE-ah,” which is supposed to be “major.” Dead on. No hesitation.

Round seven. “Stooge.” WISE GUY, EH? WHY I OUGHTA…You better know she got that one! No one dropped out.

Round eight. ‘Ginger.’ Or as pronounced, “GEEuhn-juh.” Got it. Then it dropped to three—the next kid got the word “profane.” Had to have it defined, had to have it in a sentence. Pause. P-R-O-P-H-A-N-E. ::sigh from her mom::

Round nine, Ashley got “fraud.” Hit. And then it dropped to her and the boy from Leeds when the other remaining girl got the word “polka.” Which in the Land of Dropped Gs and Swallowed Ls came from the caller as something which could just as easily have been poker, polka, porker, or pucker. The little girl didn’t ask for a definition, but just sounded it out—P-O-K-A. Poka.

Round ten, a hard one—Evaporate. Ashley got hers, the boy got his.

Round eleven. Hers—Panama. Got it. His—anchor. Or “AIN-kha.” A-N-K-E-R. Clutch time—Ashley got the turn—A-N-C-H-O-R. Spot on, no delay. One more to win… “Sensory.”

Sensory…S-E-N-S-O-R-Y…sensory.

YESSS! WHOOHOO! ERRRRGGHHHH-WHAMSLAM-UHGGHGH!!! She is Terry Tate—Spelling Bee Linebacker!

VICTERY!! [sic]

The other parents gave her a big round of applause, and she was lit up like a spotlight. She wanted to get back to school and let her teachers know—her science teacher promised the class a party if she won—ERRRRGGHHHH-WHAMCRUNCH-UHGGHGH!!! LOOK OUT WOMAN!! SHE WON, BABY!! IN YOUR FACE WITH A PARTY!! YOU DIDN’T THINK SHE WOULD BUT SHE DID IT!! HAH-HAAAAAAAAA!!! She was happy as a clam, and her principal even managed to work it in the end-of-day announcements.

The big victory dinner was a special trip to Palace (the high-class Chinese restaurant in Trussville) where we went all out and ordered both the steamed AND the fried pot stickers.

BUT THAT’S NOT ALL—we got home and found a surprising message on the machine—she had tried out Monday night for a part in the local theater company’s production of “The Jungle Book,” (and was greatly disappointed when she didn’t get a Tuesday night callback) but wonder of wonders, she managed to land a part! ERRRRGGHHHH-WHAMSLAM-UHGGHGH!!! She’s also Terry Tate, Community Theatre Linebacker!!
posted by Terry at 11:28:00 AM