I’m not smarter than a fifth grader.
I’m embarrassed to admit I just took the Scripps National Spelling Bee sample test and failed miserably. (But I did just spell “embarrassed” right!) Not exactly a badge of honor for a professional newspaper copy editor. Thank god our reporters don’t use words like “quomodo” or “onychorrhexis” very often in stories. (I scored 15 out of 25 and didn’t make it to the quarterfinals. Test your spelling skills here and see how dumb you can feel.)
That little test makes the National Spelling Bee all the more impressive. These kids know their spelling and word origins like I know my meaningless baseball statistics. (Andre Dawson, 1987: .289, 49 HR, 135 RBI. That was honestly off the top of my head. Go verify his numbers — scary, huh?)
The Spelling Bee has no business being as fascinating as it is. You think, what could be more boring than watching kids spell words you’ve never heard of? But every year I get drawn into it, and the finals can be as gripping and suspenseful as the seventh game of the World Series.
It’s a variation of Obscure Olympic Events Syndrome, where you inexplicably get caught up in a sport that you don’t care about and maybe have never even seen before. But once it’s on that grand stage, its importance is magically elevated and the next thing you know you’re on the edge of your couch screaming “USA! USA!” as some woman from Minnesota sweeps the ice at a blistering pace so her team can win that curling gold medal they’ve always dreamed of.
Or maybe it’s the flip side — the thrill of victory is one thing, but the agony of defeat is something we’re all a lot more familiar with. After devoting so much time and effort and brainpower getting to this point in the Spelling Bee, watching the kids fail can be heartbreaking. And who doesn’t enjoy watching youthful dreams get crushed?
There’s also the pity factor. Let’s face it, a lot of these kids are social outcasts. (No offense to the socially functional spelling champs, I’m sure you exist.) They’re never going to win league MVP or be named prom queen. This is their epic moment of glory. Well, at least until they become world-famous neurosurgeons or Nobel-winning chemists. But these kids have so much invested in spelling that you want to see them do well, to finally be recognized for their achievements and sacrifices. If Gilbert and Louis taught us nothing else, it’s that nerds deserve a chance to shine too.
And, I’ve gotta say, there’s also the unintentional comedy. The kids with the nearly pathological tics, the ones who write in the air or stare at the ceiling, the steely glares from the parents, the kids’ quizzical looks when they get a word they’re unfamiliar with . . . there’s a lot to laugh at. Um, I mean, with. (OK, yes, I admit I laugh at kids in their moment of greatest stress. I’m a terrible person.)
The finals of the Spelling Bee air tonight at 8 p.m. on ABC. Just watch it. It’ll be awesome.
Besides, there’s nothing — and I mean nothing — else on.
Here are some clips of past highlights:
