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Spelling it out for Eric Zorn

First WaPo’s Richard Cohen questions the use of algebra.  Then ink-stained wretch Eric Zorn has this to say about spelling bees.

You will not catch me griping this week that spelling recherche words is an outmoded skill — like writing in cursive or solving math problems on a slide rule — and not a worthy challenge for a prime-time, broadcast network competition.

The finals of the Scripps National Spelling Bee —  airing live tomorrow from 7-9 p.m. on ABC (WLS-Ch. 7) — is certain to feature a battle of junior brainiacs attempting to spell words you’ve never heard of and that they will never be called upon to spell again in their entire lives.

"Brainiacs"?  How mature and considerate of you, flinging juvenile pejoratives at 12-year-olds.  (Side note: I’m really tired of hearing yet another writer trot out the slide rule as a metaphor of obsolete ideas and institutions–the little gadget did get us to the moon, after all.)   

Knowing how to spell "appoggiatura," the winning word of 2005, or "autochthonous," the winning word of 2004, is very, very close to a useless talent; a talent that has no real-life application outside of contests in which you are asked to spell "appoggiatura" or  "autochthonous."

Yet the same thing is true of other contests that have long been more popular with the viewing public than spelling bees:

Figure skating, for instance. 

There might be a one-in-a-billion chance that, sometime in your life, you will be without a dictionary or Internet access and be badly in need of a flowery synonym for indigenous for a final draft of an important document.  Being able to summon "autochthonous" would then come in handy.

But there is no chance whatsoever that life will unexpectedly require you to peform a double toe-loop.

The ability to strike a golf ball straight and far has zero application outside of golf.

And so on.

Before we go any further, a personal disclosure: I was a spelling bee competitor in grade school.  Not a terribly successful one by any means, but I did well enough: in 6th grade I was runner-up in my school.  And–heaven protect me from the hysterical laughter sure to ensue from this confession–my senior year I made it to the Texas state competition (yes, crimson red Texas continues to hold spelling competitions for high schoolers).

So based on past experience, let me first say that Zorn’s assertion that spelling bee competition experience has no wider application is really quite laughable.  Yes, the arcane vocabulary used has no use outside of the Bee.  But doesn’t the ability to retain information and perform under pressure mean anything these days?  Elsewhere in the post Zorn takes potshots at "rote memorization", but he would do well to rethink that particular position (methinks I hear Ken De Rosa sharpening his knives). 

Furthermore, what I gained as a competitor has only been a benefit later in life.  In my later journalism studies and present career as a professional writer, I can say the ability to dissect words into prefix and suffix, to be able to glean at least a cursory understanding of a word I’ve never seen by knowing its root, has saved me some trouble and effort down the road.  Moreover, understanding of some of those vague words helped me in my later efforts to learn Spanish, which I now speak fluently.  And wouldn’t Zorn agree that spelling accuracy is something of an asset in the newsroom? 

In short, I say the spelling-as-sports analogy is a rather poor one. 

So no. The thing in my bonnet about the bee is that the final spell-off is a poor way to crown the nation’s best young speller.

Each kid gets a different word in the do-or-die elimination words, and at the highest levels of competition — see the amazing documentary "Spellbound" — their success often depends on whether they were lucky enough to haved studied that particular word.

Whether a word is "hard" or not too often depends on whether the child has memorized it — making the finals more like a trivia contest than a pure academic challenge.

Think of having a golf tournament in which each player played a different course and the best score won. Or an uneven-bars gymnastics championship in which each contestant had to compete on  randomly adjusted equipment.

A true spelling contest would require each entrant at every stage to attempt in writing to spell the same list of difficult words, with only the top scorers advancing– something that the early rounds of the National Spelling Bee finals does incorporate.

A roomful of kids taking a long written exam would be pretty dull TV, I admit. But think about 30 kids in 30 soundproof booths using keyboards to spell 10 wicked words, with the top scores advancing to the next round of 10 words and so on.

A perfectly fair,  neatly  dramatic way to ensure that viewers will not be pococurante (indifferent, nonchalant; the winning word of 2003) about spelling bees.

The written exam format he’s describing is pretty much how the Texas spelling competitions are held.  (The link is to the elementary and junior high competitions, but they’re basically run the same as the high school contests.) 

Having done both oral and written competitions while in school, I’ll be the first to say that the latter is a lot less stressful.  There’s a reason this sort of competition has spawned Spellbound and Akeelah and the Bee: each kid is basically a solo performer, largely alone on stage, there to shine or stumble under the eyes of both the judging panel and his/her opponents.  It’s an unbelievable pressure cooker environment of the sort many adults will go to great lengths to avoid.  I’ll further agree that, if fairness is the desired goal, the written format is certainly preferable.

But frankly, the oral format bears far greater resemblance to the real world.  Sometimes you don’t have all the information, or have depend on getting a lucky break, or have to make a decision based on your best judgment or gut feel.  And sometimes, you have to make the big moves with everybody watching.  Sometimes, life just isn’t fair.  And isn’t preparation for the real world what we want out of our schools? 

Also, another wrinkle in the Texas competition is worth considering:

At least 80 percent of the test will come from UIL “Word Power.” Outside words may include:
(1) Words of common usage (e.g., gosling, hemorrhage);
(2) Words and proper names currently in the news;
(3) Words which by their formation or origins build vocabulary and promote the study of English. These include words with affixes, roots, and suffixes which appear in words on the printed list by being different parts of speech, and other words of interest for the general lessons which they teach about language. (emphasis added)

Since part of the test is drawn from current events and outside (I recall "Saddam Hussein" and "perestroika" being on the test my senior year), this is one example of how it takes more to win than just having one’s nose stuck in a study guide for six months straight.  I know Zorn’s comment about spelling bees having nothing to do with real life was directed specifically at the NSB, but it still shows that these sorts of competitions are, or could be, about more than just

mechanical regurgitation. 

One final point.  By my own admission, I wasn’t nearly as successful at the oral bees in elementary school and junior high as I was in high school.  Maybe you’ll say I don’t perform well in the sudden death environment of the NSB competition.  I say it was for a far simpler reason: when I got to high school, suddenly I cared, and I actually put forth the effort to study for the competition, something I never really did in elementary school. 

There are a variety of reasons I wasn’t terribly diligent about studying in the lower grades, which are the subject of an entirely different post (and one quite unrelated to an education reform blog).  But what finally clicked with me in high school is that, if I do everything I can to achieve something, but still fail, I can walk away disappointed, but with my head held high.  Is it possible other competitors discover the same thing along the way?