Walnuts On My Windshield #40
5/17/06

Jessica said that although she liked my last "Walnuts," it was kind of depressing. I guess it was, but I don't really write these things to make people happy. As hard as it is to believe, I just write them because it is fun for me.

I think I forgot to mention the LAD fair. LAD stands for Language Arts Development. Some department (maybe the language arts department?) at Missouri State University in Springfield puts on a big writing and spelling fair each spring for students in grades 3-12. Last year, Jessica won the homeschoolers spelling bee for 7th graders, so she went on to represent homeschoolers at the LAD fair spelling bee. She won! At that point, the only thing I had ever heard about the LAD fair was the spelling bee, but after Jessica's competition, when we came downstairs, there was a huge area with tables set up. On the tables were spread out hundreds and hundreds of papers that kids of all ages had written, and some of them had ribbons on them. Hmmmm….

I decided to look into the writing aspect of the LAD fair for our girls this year. Last fall, I emailed somebody from LAD, who sent me some information, which I filed somewhere and which I will probably unearth by the time we have grandkids. In classic form, I totally forgot the LAD fair until Scott brought it up, about four weeks before the deadline. Yikes! I did what I usually do when I can't find important paperwork: I asked Katie (a.k.a. Research Consultant) to do something about it. In a few minutes, she handed me the necessary application forms, the list of 73 (!) categories in which writings can be entered, and a mandatory volunteer form for me. Is that an oxymoron?

The deal with this competition is that each teacher may enter as many students as s/he wants in as many categories as s/he wants. However, EVERY teacher MUST volunteer to serve in the fair in some capacity. Despite the fact that I consider myself a mom and not a teacher, there was no way around this particular requirement. I would be forced to volunteer. I did get to choose my area of service, however. I could either work the spelling bee sector (as a registrar, pronouncer, or judge) or the writing sector (as a judge on the Saturday before or as a "writing table monitor" on the day of). I really like spelling bees, and I didn't want to spend the whole day there (Saturdays we have full chores and academics at home), so I signed up to register spellers. I figured that way I would be done by about 9:00 AM, we could pick up the girls' writing entries, and go home. The LAD Fair is held at Nixa High School, some 30 minutes from here.

I filled out all the forms, both for the girls' entries and for my spelling bee volunteering, packed them with the girls' writings, and mailed it all off. A couple weeks later, I got an email from some guy thanking me for being a writing table monitor. I emailed back, saying that I had signed up to be a spelling be registrar, but if I were needed more as a writing table monitor, I could do that. . . and by the way, what was a writing table monitor? He never replied to that email.

A few days after that, I got another email, from a lady who said that although I was signed up to be a spelling bee registrar, would I mind switching to be being a spelling bee judge, as they had greater need there. I emailed her back that that was no problem for me; I would enjoy being a spelling bee judge, but some other guy had me down as a writing table monitor. . . and by the way, what was a writing table monitor?

She (her last name is also Roberts!) emailed me back within a few minutes to say that she didn't know anything about writing table monitors either, but would judging the fourth grade spelling bee be OK with me? I assured her it was and I emailed the guy back to say that since I had originally signed up to work with the spelling bee, and since they needed judges, I was going to do that, instead of being a writing table monitor. . . and by the way, what WAS a writing table monitor?

He eventually sent back a short reply to the effect that that was fine. I never did find out what a writing table monitor was - or is.

Spelling bee judge actually sounded like a fun assignment, until I found out that I had to be at a judges training workshop at 8:00 AM. Ugh. Well, there was no way around it. The girls and I would have to leave home before 7:30 AM on a Saturday. Yuck. Their papers would be judged the week before, and all they would have to do would be to find them and pick them up. In the meantime, they would have to simply sit somewhere, be beautiful, and work on algebra while I went to the judges workshop and then judged the fourth grade bee. They did not complain. They never do. = )

So we got there at 8:00 AM on the big day, the girls went somewhere with their loaded backpacks, and I went into the library for my judges workshop. There were only a few people in the library. I sat where I was told to sit - at the 4th grade table, in front of the information packet marked "4th grade, Judge #1." There was nothing else to do, so I read all the blurb in the packet. It was pretty straightforward. The Pronouncer would say a word, the kid would spell it, and I would say either, "yes," or "no." Not too hard.

At 8:35 AM, the lady in charge - with whom I share a last name - took charge and basically read aloud all the blurb I had already read to myself. (Yawn.) At 8:50, we were sent to our room(s), all of which were locked and surrounded by slightly nervous kids and intense-looking parents.

Our bee started with about 16 kids and rocked along pretty well, until an issue was raised over how the word "beggar" was pronouonced. Our Pronouncer did not have the best diction in the world, and I secretly wondered why he had been pronouncing for 20 years, if even I could not clearly understand him part of the time. This time, it sounded like he had said "bagger." The kid, also clearly unsure, asked for it used in a sentence. For each word, a sentence was printed on our master list. The Pronouncer read the sentence: "The beggar (which sounded like "bagger") had a sack slung over his shoulder." Good night, what a terrible sentence! It did not differentiate between the two possible words at all. The kid asked for it repeated, and the Pronouncer said it again, somewhere between "beggar" and "bagger." The kid spelled "bagger" perfectly. I could not in good conscience say "no," so I said, "I don't think the meaning of the word was clear from that sentence. The Pronouncer, Judge #2, and I all agreed to throw out the word and life went on.

There were a couple other issues that were similar, the most notable being "tenant." I could not forget "tenant" if I tried. We went through the same scenario as above, with the Pronouncer glossing over the second n in the word. The sentence was something like, "The tenant had been living in the apartment for a long time." The kid spelled "tenet" perfectly. I said, "no." The kid got steamed. He happened to be the best speller in the group - one of those types that in a few years will probably show up on TV in the Scripps-Howard bee spelling something like vivisepulture for $25,000. He insisted that he had not heard "tenant" (probably true; neither did I), but "tenet," which he then spelled correctly. I countered that while I agreed with him that the pronunciation had not been definitive, the sentence used clearly defined the word as "tenant," not "tenet."

We three officials conferred. In the case of any controversy, our decisions were required to be unanimous. The other two (Pronouncer and Judge #2) both agreed with my point, but felt that we should err on the side of the child. I, not known for my inclination toward mercy, stood my ground while they brought up the "beggar" issue. I agreed that it was similar, but said that while "beggar" had been assigned a bad sentence, "tenant" had not. It was clearly a matter of two against one, so I graciously capitulated: "I think the sentence more than adequately clarified the meaning of the word, but if you would like us to throw out the word, that's fine with me. They did, we did, though we would live to regret it, and on it went, until the final round.

When we got down to four spellers, we would be required to stop the competition briefly and do some paperwork for later awards. Five spellers stood and spelled a few words in succession. Then Mr. Scripps-Howard was given some wonderful word that was again not pronounced as clearly as I would have liked. He asked for it repeated. It was. He asked for a sentence. It was given, and he proceeded to spell the wrong word correctly. I said, "no," and he sat down, but we could hear him loudly whispering to dad, "but that's NOT what I heard! I heard. . ."

Meanwhile, we were now left with four spellers, so we paused the competition and wrote down the necessary information. During that break, Mr. SH's dad raised his hand and said, "question, please." (That's exactly what observers are to do, so he was perfectly in line.) "My son says he heard. . . instead of . . ." (I can't remember the specific words now.) He asked us to reconsider the word.

Well, you know me! I said the kid was out and to me there was no issue, but we had to be unanimous. We stepped out into the hall. They again urged me to err on the side of the child. We talked among ourselves for several minutes, during which more than half the folks in the crowded classroom, all of whom had been admonished at the beginning to stay till the very end of the competition, got up and left. After talking it six ways from Sunday, our official decision was to drop the word (although the others were aware of my dissent). Sigh. That brought Mr. SH back up and gave us five spellers again, so we ditched the "final four spellers" paperwork and resumed this seemingly eternal competition.

A few words later - by now we had gone through over 300 words - a very soft-spoken girl got a word that was pretty easy (I wish I could remember the word now), asked for it in a sentence, and proceeded to spell the wrong word, correctly. I said, "I'm sorry, no. That is not correct." The girl turned and sat down. That left us our four (including Mr. SH), so we have to stop again and re-do the "final four" paperwork. During this break, a few more people left. We then resumed with the four.

Shortly, Mr. SH messed up a word. Let's say it was "eventually." He said, "E-V-I, I mean E-V-E-N-T-U-A-L-L-Y. He had said the "I, I mean E" very quickly, but I had clearly heard the I. I said, "I'm sorry. That is not correct." He claimed strongly that he had not meant to say the I. I understood that point, but since he had said it, the word was wrong and he was out. I looked to the others. It was like the situation of a (baseball) batter who swings partially, and the umpire must decide whether he followed through or "checked" his swing. Mr. SH did not check his swing, and I was pretty forceful on that point. The other officials agreed and he did sit down. I could hear his dad whispering, "but you said the I!" so I was sure we were in the right on that one.

Ready for this to be over, and with the poor kids still standing there after more than 80 minutes, I glanced toward the Pronouncer and saw that Lady Roberts, who was in charge of the whole spelling bee (the one who had asked me to be a spelling bee judge, the one wanted me there at 8:00 AM, but had nothing to say till 8:35; yes, that one), wanted to see Judge #2 out in the hall. Judge #2 stepped out and we resumed. #2 was out in the hall for a l-o-n-g time; maybe six or seven minutes. Lady Roberts then motioned for the Pronouncer and me to join them in the hall. With our sincere apologies to the spellers and their parents, we called yet another time-out and stepped into the hall.

Now, I had spent the past hour-and-a-half with my index finger on a list of words, staring bleary-eyed at them, as I cupped my ear to hear spellers on the far side of the room mumble thousands of letters. I had been fully focused on doing my job, so I was totally unprepared for what awaited me in the hall: a screaming grandmother. It seems that the grandmother of Miss Soft-Spoken, who had gone out on an easy word a few rounds back, was irate that her granddaughter, [who had told Grandma (softly) that the word she heard (and spelled) was not the word the pronouncer had read], had been dropped from the competition, while Mr. Scripps-Howard had been allowed to re-enter when he claimed the same thing. And was that fair?!?!? And besides, if Mr. Scripps-Howard had not been allowed back in, HER granddaughter might have made it past the final four and still been in the competition!

Grandma had evidently left the room with Miss SS during one of our many breaks, gone downstairs to Lady Roberts, and let loose at high volume the full fury of her indignation and anger. When Lady Roberts could not calm her down, she had brought Grandma and Miss SS back up to talk with us and find out exactly what had happened. Our Pronouncer very quietly reviewed the whole shooting match and our decisions as officials. He pointed out that no one had stopped the competition when Miss SS had misspelled her word. No one had told the judges that she claimed not to have clearly heard the word. Grandma then threw in our faces (almost literally) the "tenant" issue. She screamed at us, "do you REALLY think a tenet can live in an apartment?!?!?!?!? DO YOU?!?!?!" Well, actually no, but this was probably not the best time to make that point. It went on and on and on, exacerbated by the fact that Judge #2 (who has clearly NEVER had a child in a spelling bee!) said, "The students need to realize that after all, this IS only a spelling bee." That was the last straw for Grandma. She grabbed Miss SS and stormed off, throwing over her shoulder the threat that she'd see us all called before the board. Now, I'm not sure exactly which board that would be, because all the folks involved in the LAD fair are from scads of school districts all over southwest Missouri. However, I'm not too worried, personally. After all, I'm not even a teacher; only a mom!

We returned to the now 25% full classroom, and to our surprise the parents sitting there broke into applause! One older gentleman, probably a grandfather, stood up and thanked us for the great job we were doing in officiating this competition. It was heart-warming after all we'd been through.

Resuming for the umpteenth time, in less than five minutes our champion was determined. Mr. SH came in second. Awards were distributed, and as the parents filed out, several came over to me (not in their direct exit path) to say that they thought I had done an excellent job in calling the shots and they appreciated my commitment to do things right.

I finally left that room for the last time and met my girls out in the hall. Evidently they were aware of Grandma's tirade. Actually, I think most people at the LAD fair and several residents of out-lying Nixa suburbs were aware of Grandma's tirade. I explained what had happened and we went downstairs to turn in my packet, my top-secret word list (oh, give me a break, puh-leeze!), and even my bumble-bee shaped judge's badge. Then, FINALLY, we could go and see how the girls had done in the writing competitions!

As it turns out, they had walked around the display area and found their work on various tables, but only teachers were allowed to pick up papers! In fact NO ONE was allowed to pick up any papers until 11:00 AM, although no one had told us that. So much for being a registrar and leaving at 9:00 AM. It was now 11:10. Being a mere mom, I know I was not authorized to remove our kids' papers, but I decided that if I could act like a spelling bee judge, I could also act like a teacher. I picked those puppies up and we were off.

Jessica had never before entered any type of writing contest. She submitted a "Personal Experience Narrative" in the 7th-8th grade division. It was a nine page journal of her experience on a weekend AIM trip, entitled "A Mime's March Madness." She had written it specifically for this contest, and it won first place and a nice blue ribbon! We are very proud and happy.

Katie submitted six entries in the 9th-10th grade division, but she, who has been doing LOTS of writing with her Sonlight curriculum, simply compiled things she had already written and sent them in. = ) Her results by category were as follows:

Editorial:
"Militants disqualified from Afghanistan elections" - first place!
"Zimbabwe legislature passes changes to constitution"

Book Report:
"The Adventures of Tom Sawyer" - third place

Original Prose Anthology by Individual:
"News Commentary and Analysis from Around the World" - second place
"Eyewitness to American History: Selected Writings from America's Early Years" - first place!

Description of Person or Place:
"The Baseball Field" - Honorable Mention

So, for the price of my enduring a minor skirmish upstairs, the girls really cleaned up on the ribbons downstairs! I think they will probably enter the LAD fair again next year, and, as hard as this may be to believe, I have volunteered to be a spelling bee judge again. Or maybe I can be a pronouncer.

Until next time,
Patty

From My Bookpile:

No Finish Line: My Life As I See It by Marla Runyan, rank 8. Marla is legally blind, although she does have some patchy residual vision. She is an Olympic athlete who competed in Sydney in 2000. I liked the style of the book, but I wish she were a Christian (sigh).

On This Hilltop by Sue Hubbell, rank 10. When I picked up this book the theme (a beekeeper in the Ozarks who is also a writer) appealed to me, but something about it also seemed vaguely familiar. When I began reading it, I saw the inside list of "also by Sue Hubbell" books, and it included a book that I own and really like, A Country Year. I think the reason I enjoyed this one so much is that it is JUST like a book that I would write. It's much like a collection of "Walnuts on My Windshield" articles would be, so I am inspired to try to figure out how to transform my writings into a book, too. Any ideas? I have this thought every six months, but I can never figure out what Step One is.

Quote of the Week:

"In the bigger scheme of life, it is more important that we help our children reach their potential than it is to see our own dreams come true." ~ Dr. Tim Kimmel in Grace Based Parenting

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