To Bee or not to Bee

I was a champion speller in my youth, and my mom has never forgotten that, so she turned on the national spelling bee last night. It was vastly different than in my day.

First, and most obviously, the words were impossible. Not only because they were tricky to spell, but because no one actually uses those words, even in the loftiest or most technical speech. Back in my day, you could actually hope to use some of the words we were given.

Second, nearly all of the words in the final rounds were of foreign extraction. I'm not talking etymologically; I mean actual foreign words (Polish, Hebrew, and French, to name a few). This was not allowed in my years of competition.

Third, competitions like this should never be televised. A spelling bee itself is incredibly boring to watch, even for the parents of the last few remaining contestants (though not as physically painful as an elementary school band or choral concert). So, in order to make the event more TV-worthy, lots of useless "information" is shown. Do I really need to know the biography of a twelve-year-old? Do you have to have an "exit interview" with each losing contestant? And, although having the word on the screen (so I could determine that it wasn't in my dictionary, either) was nice, I was about ready to shoot the commentators (who should go to a lower level of hell than TV golf commentators).

Check that. Fourth, and even more annoying than the commentators, were the contestants themselves. The kids delayed the show just as much as the commercials and showmanship. This was another rule change (and not for the better) since I competed. A speller always has been able to ask for the word's definition and for it to be used in a sentence. However, now competitors may request the word's etymology, its language of origin (not necessarily the same thing, apparently), alternative definitions, and alternative pronunciations. Then, every single contestant requested this information repeatedly. Ad nauseum. Look, kid, if you don't know the word after the first time you hear the definition, what makes you think that three (or five) more times will pull it out of your brain? Attempt it (or say you give up), get off the stage, and let us get on with it.

Apparently, there was a time limit -- two, actually. First, the child had a set time to assimilate as much information as there was (which every contestant used to full disadvantage). Then, get this, they could ask for bonus time! And this was even before the thirty seconds they were allowed to actually spell the word! I need to find out who makes the rules and ask them to shrink the time limit, and maybe also the number of times they could ask for additional information. Heck, the operation to remove all four of my wisdom teeth took only three quarters of an hour -- and I was blissfully unconscious at the time.

Let's not forget the man who was reading (repeatedly) this information for the children. He was a saint. If he "goes postal" and takes out everyone in the hotel lobby, I can't convict him.