t-h-e s-p-e-l-l-i-n-g b-e-e
In the fifth grade, I almost won the spelling bee.
“E-v-a-n-e-s-c-e-n-t.”
“S-e-r-e-n-d-i-p-i-t-y.”
“M-n-e-m-o-n-i-c.”
“P-l-a-t-y-p-u-s.”
And then I…
“C-h-o-k-e-d.”
Bleh.
I threw an extra “i-s-s” into “M-i-s-s-i-s-s-i-p-p-i.”
And I was
“D-i-s-q-u-a-l-i-f-i-e-d.”
And so I sat back down in my seat, tearing the “Hello My Name Is” tag off my shirt, the one with “56” written in black felt pen. And Number 214 spelled it perfectly: “M-i-s-s-i-s-s-i-p-p-i.”
And he won. They gave Number 214 the cheap plastic medal.
And then the next day it was…
In the morning, the teacher would call role, and he’d say “P-r-e-s-e-n-t.”
At lunch, the lady with the hairnet would ask him what he wanted, and he’d say “P-i-z-z-a.”
An hour later, back in class, he’d ask “Can I go to the b-a-t-h-r-o-o-m?”
And he wore that cheap plastic medal around his neck all freaking d-a-y. And it was so freaking a-n-n-o-y-i-n-g.
But finally I asked him: “So how do you spell my name?”
And he hadn’t a clue.
So I spelled it out for Number 214. And then I spelled out his name. And I spelled out the names of every kid in the class, the name of the teacher, the name of the principal and all his administrative staff.
“You bored yet?” I asked him.
And he nodded.
So I just kept spelling, spelling any word or name that came to mind. I had a grip on his arm so he couldn’t get away. We stayed on the blacktop until it got dark, and I wouldn’t let him leave. I just kept spelling and spelling and s-p-e-l-l-i-n-g. And finally, he ripped off the cheap plastic medal, thrust it in my face. He shouted: “Just take it already!”
So I did. Then on my way home, I was swinging it happily around my fingers, watching the plastic catch the moonlight, when I tripped, fell. The medal flew out of my hands, down a storm drain. And I was so s-a-d.
xxx
may 2008
“E-v-a-n-e-s-c-e-n-t.”
“S-e-r-e-n-d-i-p-i-t-y.”
“M-n-e-m-o-n-i-c.”
“P-l-a-t-y-p-u-s.”
And then I…
“C-h-o-k-e-d.”
Bleh.
I threw an extra “i-s-s” into “M-i-s-s-i-s-s-i-p-p-i.”
And I was
“D-i-s-q-u-a-l-i-f-i-e-d.”
And so I sat back down in my seat, tearing the “Hello My Name Is” tag off my shirt, the one with “56” written in black felt pen. And Number 214 spelled it perfectly: “M-i-s-s-i-s-s-i-p-p-i.”
And he won. They gave Number 214 the cheap plastic medal.
And then the next day it was…
In the morning, the teacher would call role, and he’d say “P-r-e-s-e-n-t.”
At lunch, the lady with the hairnet would ask him what he wanted, and he’d say “P-i-z-z-a.”
An hour later, back in class, he’d ask “Can I go to the b-a-t-h-r-o-o-m?”
And he wore that cheap plastic medal around his neck all freaking d-a-y. And it was so freaking a-n-n-o-y-i-n-g.
But finally I asked him: “So how do you spell my name?”
And he hadn’t a clue.
So I spelled it out for Number 214. And then I spelled out his name. And I spelled out the names of every kid in the class, the name of the teacher, the name of the principal and all his administrative staff.
“You bored yet?” I asked him.
And he nodded.
So I just kept spelling, spelling any word or name that came to mind. I had a grip on his arm so he couldn’t get away. We stayed on the blacktop until it got dark, and I wouldn’t let him leave. I just kept spelling and spelling and s-p-e-l-l-i-n-g. And finally, he ripped off the cheap plastic medal, thrust it in my face. He shouted: “Just take it already!”
So I did. Then on my way home, I was swinging it happily around my fingers, watching the plastic catch the moonlight, when I tripped, fell. The medal flew out of my hands, down a storm drain. And I was so s-a-d.
xxx
may 2008