“Your word is ‘buh-zahr.’” About 20 rounds deep into a scintillating school spelling bee, this word came to my 11-year-old son, Cooper. What came next was one of the most impressive things Coop ever did. But, before I tell that part, let’s go back three years to set up this epic moment.
It was 2022 and my wife and I were leaning toward sending Coop to a new school. Understanding the anxiety that comes with such a big change, we invited him to see some of the activities and extracurriculars available.
Some seemed interesting, but there was one feature that jumped out immediately: “They have spelling bees here.” He would have to wait three years, but yes. Still, that was enough.
“He inhales books like Joey Chestnut takes down hot dogs every July 4.”
Coop and I share a common passion: we are word guys. I got there via writing. I use them today to make a living and pen the occasional semi-humorous parenting column. As for Coop, he is the most voracious reader I have ever known. Ever. Adult, kid, doesn’t matter, he inhales books like Joey Chestnut takes down hot dogs every July 4.
Through reading, his vocabulary grew and grew. And finally, this past year, he was eligible to enter the spelling bee and won a spot making him one of 12 contestants for the school-wide tournament.
My wife and I helped him study leading up to the event. For me, it was the chance to be the grizzled veteran coach to give him the finer points in spelling. After all, I had been to my school-wide bee, too.
My biggest tip: ask for a definition. Why? In eighth grade, I received the word “deem,” which should have been no problem, right? Unfortunately, the word I heard was “diem” as in carpe diem, as in seize the day. “D-I-E-M,” I spelled. Ding. I was out. I had not seized that day.
“I always thought the televising spelling bees were an odd choice for sports networks, but wow the drama when it is your kid! Every word is like a pair of free throws, down two points with no time left.”
So my hope for Coop was that he remembered the coaching: ask for a definition or sentence, take a deep breath and spell. And as the contest started, my thoughts went as follows…
Please, let him at least get the first word right.
He did. Sitting next to my dad, we decided to covertly fist bump to mark the occasion.
Okay, now, please let him survive a couple more rounds so he doesn’t leave early.
He survived. Fist bump. Fist bump. From here, Coop settled into a groove playing out the game plan, asking for definitions and sentences—and yes, I still hung on every letter with weird, ferocious anxiety. I always thought the televising spelling bees were an odd choice for sports networks, but wow the drama when it is your kid! Every word is like a pair of free throws, down two points with no time left.
He continued to drain his “free throws” with relative ease. Word 7? Fist bump. Word 11? Fist bump. Word 16 that I absolutely would have gotten wrong? Fist bump.
Then there were just three kids left: Coop and two eighth graders. Still, he remained unrattled. And that takes us back to the big moment:
“‘Buh-zahr. B-A-Z…” Oh no, I thought. The word is “bizarre” and he missed it. Oh well, good run.
But then, something funny happened—or rather, didn’t. No ding. This was followed by a huge roar of approval from his fellow fifth graders. After a moment, I realized he asked for the definition which is why he correctly spelled “bazaar.” There Coop was, poised, collected and following the game plan even better than his grizzled coach. Fist bump!
Cooper would last 34 rounds before bowing out and taking third place amid a raucous round of applause. Afterwards, he was gushing with confidence and pride. His dad was, too. We hugged, just two word guys sharing a great moment. Coop had delivered an incredible display of spelling in front of his entire school. Three years in the making, and what had he done? Well, carpe diem.
Josh Farnsworth is a national-award-winning parenting columnist who lives with his wife and two goofball sons. You can reach him for column ideas at josh.farnsworth@yahoo.com.
