“Your word is lodging,” stated the pronouncer.
“L-o-g-g-i-n-g.” She spelled it quickly, confidently. And wrong.
She was seven, a second-grader, the youngest student in the oral competition of the school spelling bee.
I glanced at the judges. There were three of them. And I watched as they raised their cards, almost simultaneously. All three were showing a green card.
“Correct,” declared the pronouncer.
What? I thought. None of them heard her misspell the word? Now I glanced sideways, furtively, at those around me. Had anyone else in the audience heard her misspell the word? Would they stand up and object? Correct the judges? Expect her to be disqualified or, in the least, given another word to try?
No one looked concerned. No one looked uncomfortable. No one looked like they were feeling the way I was feeling. Surely they were paying attention. This was only the first round.
I know I heard her spell the word with two g’s instead of with dg. But now the next child was at the microphone and the next word had been pronounced.
My daughter went to the microphone again and again and correctly spelled the words render, clothe, dozen, parade, fielder, and retreat, while slowly, steadily, the other students—all fourth and fifth graders—were eliminated.
And that’s how a second grader won the Spelling Bee.
The short one, third from the right.
By the time I was able to tell the judges what happened, the awards had been given, the audience long gone.
**This post was written for the Weekly Writing Challenge – Begin a post with a scene that includes dialogue.
http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2013/09/16/writing-challenge-dialogue/
A String of Pearls 