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When I was in elementary school, I loved spelling. I 

loved the way that letters lined up to make words, and 

I always noticed funny and interesting things about 

how words looked and sounded. I was a speller! 

When I was in elementary school, I loved spelling. I 

loved the way that letters lined up to make words, and I 

always noticed funny and interesting things about how 

words looked and sounded. I was a speller! 

When I was in fifth grade, I was very excited because this 

was the year that I could be in the school spelling bee! First 

we had to have our own bee in our classroom. The two 

winners would get to go to the school spelling bee. I could 

hardly wait!

The day of the class spelling bee came, and I could barely 

eat my sandwich at lunch. There were butterflies in my 

stomach, and I could not sit still in my chair. I really wanted 

to win so that I could be in the school spelling bee. 

After lunch, we lined up in our places and started the bee. My 

knees began to shake, and the butterflies fluttered in my 

stomach, but that did not stop me. I spelled, and spelled, and 

spelled, until there were just three of us left, and then two. 

Devan and I were the winners. We were going to the school 

spelling bee! 

The night of the bee came, and I saw all of the 

sixth, seventh, and eighth graders sitting in the gym. 

The butterflies in my stomach seemed to be doing 

back flips. I took my place in chair number nine.

Mr. Ippel., the announcer, explained the rules of the spelling 

bee. “I will give you a word,” he said, “and you must say the 

word, spell every letter, and then say the word again. Then I will 

tell you if it is correct or incorrect. If you are correct, you can 

go back to your seat and wait for the next round. If you are 

incorrect, Mrs. M will take you to the art room for cookies and 

lemonade.”

A few of the older kids went first, and then it was my 

turn. I stepped up to the microphone and spelled my first 

word apostrophe. “That is correct,” Mr. I's voice boomed in 

the microphone. A sense of relief flooded over me, and I 

slipped back into my chair, anxiously awaiting the next 

round.

I stepped up to spell my second word. “Your word is pragmatic, 

said Mr. I.” “Pragmatic,” I began. “P- r- e- g- m- a- t- i- c. 

Pragmatic,” I said. “I’m sorry Betsy," said Mr. I, "but pragmatic 

is spelled p- r- a- g- m- a- t- i- c. You may go join Mrs. Meeuwsen 

in the art room for cookies.”

My heart sank. I was sad to be out already, but I knew 

that I had three more years to be in the spelling bee. I 

was determined to study even harder next year. 

And I did just that!   The next year, I got my word booklet 

right away, and I studied the words every night. I wrote 

them, and I spelled them out loud. My mom even quizzed me.

When the night of the bee came, the butterflies came 

back, but I knew I was prepared. After the first few 

rounds, I became more and more focused. I was spelling 

away. “B-e-r-e-t. Beret!” “F-a-t-i-g-u-e. Fatigue!” 

Before I knew it, there were only two of us left— me, and 

Josh. We kept on spelling words until I mixed up the 

letters in the word curriculum. Josh had won the bee, and I 

had come in second. I was excited to be in second place, 

but I still wanted to win. Maybe, I thought, if I study even 

harder, I can win next year.

So I studied and studied. I studied my old word booklet, 

and the new one that my seventh grade teacher gave me. I 

studied old words and new words, and words from different 

languages and parts of the world. I even practiced spelling 

words that I already knew. 

Then came the night of the school spelling bee, along with 

the butterflies of course. But this year I knew I was 

prepared; I had worked hard, and I was ready to do my 

best.

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