(Image: Spelling Bee Source: Gomerblog)
(Note: My final biography post! Much like the others, I am writing this post in a diary format. This story is about one of my most embarrassing moments in middle school when I was a participant in the spelling bee. I tried my best to write this humorously, even though recounting the memory was quite embarrassing, and I'm not gonna lie, a little painful too.)
I stood in front of my entire school. Everyone was arrayed before me from kindergarten through twelfth grade. I was one of the class representatives for the eighth grace in the schoolwide spelling bee. The whole thing was expected to go to a sixth-grader this year, a formidable speller named Mary Liz-Overcash. I agreed with them; Mary-Liz was impossible to beat. Nevertheless, I was an eighth-grader and thus one of the oldest kids on that stage, and I had to put on a good showing or risk losing face. I made it through the first round easy as pie. The second round was another story. The headmaster of the school spoke into the microphone a word that I'd never heard. This wasn't supposed to happen– this was only the second round. It was supposed to be easy, otherwise, every kindergartener on the stage wouldn't stand a chance. I was starting to feel the pressure, my vision blurred. I decided to try to spell the word phonetically: w-h-o-o-l-a-h. That is actually how I spelled it. I heard a murmur throughout the crowd, and I knew I was toast. And yea, the word was hula. As in hula hoop. Who the heck knew that was a word?
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