The last time I stood upon a stage and spelled words before an audience, I was twelve years old. I could spell decently. I mean, I was no Ashley Adams, champion year after year, competing her way to the Scripps National Spelling Bee, in Washington, D. C. But, I did enjoy spending time with my dictionary, perhaps more than the typical child. And, I could spell my way out of my homeroom and onto the stage with the other Academy Elementary finalists. Go me!
And thirty-six years later, I found myself on a stage once more, bright lights in my eyes, teachers in a line to my left and to my right, an audience of students before me. Stepping up to the microphone for my first word, the cheers drowned out the word uttered by the student judge. Flattered and taken by surprise with the audience response after a semester at my new school, I turned to the judge sitting stage left and asked, “Will you repeat the word?”
“Decordicate?” I asked with a grimace, brows furrowed.
“Decordicate,” he affirmed.
I turned back to the audience. “English teachers don’t know all the words,” I said into the mic before proceeding. “Decordicate.” I repeated, looking again to the two judges, who nodded in agreement. “D-E-C-O-R-D-I-C-A-T-E.” I spelled.
“That is incorrect.”
Okay, so I wasn’t so lucky. With disappointment, I crossed the stage, descended the stairs, and slumped into a front row seat, clapping for co-workers still competing and internally spelling their words while trying to remember mine. With my iPhone back in my classroom, I would have to wait to look up “decordicate.”
The next teacher had to spell “chocolate,” by the way, and the next “paranoia” and the next “scenery.” The winning word was “reminisce,” a favorite pastime of mine. I can spell those words. Oh well. This spelling bee supported two causes: an Engineering Club fund-raiser, $2 a ticket with a few hundred kids in attendance, plus a canned food drive, one item per student for our local food banks. A win-win. I can’t be bitter.
Once back in my classroom, my student Cheyenne who represented my advisory class in the recent student spelling bee asked me, “Was it D-I-C?”
It took me a second to understand her question. “I have no idea,” I responded with phone in hand. “Let me look it up,” and I Googled.
“Showing results for decorticate,” said Google.
“Enunciate,” said my inner dialogue. No one was there to hear.
“D-E-C-O-R-T-I-C-A-T-E,” I spelled for Cheyenne, emphasizing the T while reciting from my screen. “I missed the T. I heard D.” Her smile revealed empathy as she left for lunch.
I read on. According to the U. S. National Library of Medicine at medlineplus.gov, “Decorticate posture is an abnormal posturing in which a person is stiff with bent arms, clenched fists, and legs held out straight. The arms are bent in toward the body and the wrists and fingers are bent and held on the chest. This type of posturing is a sign of severe damage in the brain.”
According to The Free Dictionary, decorticate means “to remove the bark, husk, or outer layer from; peel.”
Anyway, I learned something new. I hope you did, too.