Categories
Memoir & Narratives

How to win a spelling bee: always ask for the definition

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It’s almost — no, it is — annoying. If there’s a misspelled word out there, I see it, groan, and usually point it out to my husband, Mitch, who is accustomed to my persnicketiness (yes, it’s spelled correctly; I looked it up). Now I’m not talking about truly obscure, rarely seen words. I would probably have to grab a dictionary to look those up, but when it comes to the words we occasionally see misspelled in our daily lives, such as judgment, believable, conceive, I always notice them. It’s similar to when I walk into a room and immediately spot a tiny spider up high on a wall. I have a gift for that, too. But the spelling gift is not really a gift; it’s a curse. That’s because I’m seeing words misspelled more and more, especially on my USA Today app and in those news messages that crawl across the bottom of the t.v. screen. People, proofread. Please. Three times.

When I was in eighth grade I went to the Kansas State Spelling Bee in Topeka, Kansas and competed for the state title with one student from every county in Kansas. There are 105, believe it or not. On about the fourth round, I went out on the word velveteen. Didn’t ask for a definition. I was so unnerved by being given a word that I hadn’t heard before that I simply forgot that asking for a definition is one sure-fire way to buy yourself some time to think it through. After all, I had heard of velvet, and if I had known my word was the actual full name of the luxurious fabric, then I would have known to spell it v-e-l-v-e-t-e-e-n and not  v-e-l-v-a-t-e-e-n.

And there went my dreams of spelling fame. No trip to Washington, DC. No monetary prize. But then again, no more lunches poring over a dictionary with Mrs. Mayberry, my English teacher, while everyone else played dodgeball and socialized in the gym. No more nerves thinking about the upcoming bee, where the rules are many, and the rule-watching parents are more. But I would have loved to have won because I have a crush on words. I really do. And, of course, I was able to spell the word that won the bee: silhouette, which isn’t a word I see often… but if I do see it someday and it’s misspelled, well, I’ll catch it. And groan.

 

Categories
Memoir & Narratives

So this is what a snow day feels like

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I’m not sure why my school district called off school again today, but then again the district is about twenty minutes away from my home, so it could be icy over there. But that’s okay, because I’ve used the two preceding snow days to get caught up on a couple of projects that will affect my teaching eventually, but not right now. You know, those projects that I just can’t get done at school, no matter how hard I try. Here they are: an eighth grade unit on “The Narrative of Frederick Douglass” and a grant application for an international travel opportunity for rural teachers. Both of these projects, which have been gnawing at the back of my mind for quite some time now, are done. Or at least they are as complete as I can make them at this point. Whenever we get back to school, I will send both to my principal for her thoughts and ideas.

So I’m feeling pretty good right now. And that’s why I am creating a blog as I sit in the chair-and-a-half (love this thing) with my laptop, a fire nearby, and a bubonic plague documentary, (sounds awful, but it’s actually pretty fascinating), whispering in the background.

Categories
Family History Memoir & Narratives

Grandpa and me

 

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I used to spend one week every summer in Hume, Missouri, visiting my grandparents, Charles and Rhoda Goodenough.

Categories
US (Southwest) US Travel

Great Sand Dunes National Monument

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Unexpected detour.

Categories
US (Southwest) US Travel

Favorite place on Earth

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Monument Valley, Utah

Well, it happened again. I travelled someplace new and I am forever changed. This time: Monument Valley, Arizona. There is nothing quite like spotting something on the horizon that appears surreal, other-worldly and truly unknown. And then it is something that changes you and makes you feel small, insignificant, yet important to the world.

Those spires. Those ledges. Those behemoths of weight and mass, rising from the high desert floor with quiet heft and bulk.

The space between them is as much a part of the experience as the monuments themselves. A disintegration of perspective coexists with an awe that overwhelms. There is no way to determine: how far is that from me? How far apart are those mittens?

Silence. True silence. Other than the distant, nearly imperceptible rumbling of cars travelling the dusty red roads, there is nothing. The breeze is even silent, its sound swallowed within the folding gowns of sienna curtain walls.