When I was in the 3rd grade, I entered our school spelling bee. I loved spelling. In fact, it was my best subject, as far as elementary school subjects go. (Why don’t they have spelling in high school? I gladly would have taken that over algebra.) I even studied a pocket dictionary with my parents for days before the event.
Game, set, match during the competition. The other classmates were dropping off like flies. It was down to myself and another red-haired, pig-tailed, freckle-faced, tie-dyed girl. When my turn came, the announcer read, “Your next word is ‘please’.”
“Please”, I repeated. “P L E A S – Please.”
The E? WHERE’S THE BLASTED E? As soon as I said it, I knew what I had done. With that, my hopes and dreams of being the GREATEST SPELLER EVER were dashed. Cue dramatic drop to ground and fist clench. I COULD HAVE BEEN SOMEBODY.
The other girl’s winning word was school. How easy is that? Who doesn’t know how to spell school?