The Boss of the Bee: Me again as Word Master

(688 words)

The nearest exit was blocked by three 8-year-old girls who at the moment were all bawling their eyes out.

Exit no. 2 was crowded with chairs, children and the folding table packed with all the gift baskets.

That meant the least obstructed way out was to leap straight off the stage and dash down the middle aisle of the Greensburg Salem Middle School auditorium and just pray I could dodge the 80 or so parents and supporters who would, I was certain, descend en masse and hold me until the cops showed up.

It was the 9th annual Greensburg Rotary Spelling Bee. I was again word master and the situation was on the verge of unraveling.

We were down to just two students — two darling girls — and neither could spell the two words in a row required to declare a victor.

The first girl would correctly spell mesa, but then flub xylophone. Then the next girl would nail pigeon, but stumble over hieroglyphics.

It went on like that for 20 minutes. It looked like it might never end. The words were only getting more difficult.

Rhombus, ventriloquist, terrestrial, handkerchief  … the girls were taking turns misspelling the clinchers.

Unless you’ve been, you have no idea how nerve-wracking a competitive spelling bee among elementary children is. I’ve been to many less compelling NFL games.

The children are so precious. They’ve studied so hard. They are eager to do well.

And when they misspell aorta, it looks like theirs is going to rupture right there on stage.

This was the second year they’d asked me to be word master and it looks like the gig is mine until I show up drunk and for fun start asking the little 3rd graders to spell words like poopy or fart.

I learned last night my predecessor had been a prominent female broadcaster who fell out of favor when she gave into the temptation show off.

I’m not saying she was Diane Sawyer, but she acted like she was Diane Sawyer.

“It was unbelievable,” a judge told me. “When she told one kid to spell tsunami, she said, ‘The Japanese pronounce the word Ta-SU-ne-MAY.’ Geez, these kids don’t care about Japanese pronunciations.”

I told her that would never happen with me.

I despise psilent letters.

What did worry me was a crying kid could shatter my reserve and I’d be forced to act like a caring human being.

We know how that can lead to trouble.

See, as word master, I’m a perfect cypher. I dress nice and have a pleasant smile the whole time, but show zero emotion. I’m like “Hunger Games” emcee Caesar Flickerman only with a mood-tempering hangover.

Last year, it took me a while to achieve this facade. I remember having to force myself not to silently mouth the correct letters to the boys. Sure, I understand the necessity of being impartial, but I’ll do whatever I can to help a kid from the home team win.

I really started getting nervous when three of the girls started to bawl.

Any misstep or misspeak on my part it could lead to controversy.

But I have a precious 8-year-old girl at home. She cries, too. And when she does, my instinct is drop whatever I’m doing, pick her up in my Daddy arms and squeeze until my shirt’s soaked up all the tears.

Imagine the scandal if I did that with some other Daddy’s daughter?

Can you spell molester?

I’d be dismissed from future word master duties for reasons more felonious than a pretentious pronunciation of Ta-SU-ne-MAY.

Happily, we soon declared a winner. The runner-up failed on the word strategy and the eventual winner brought home the trophy by correctly spelling first encyclopedia then quadrilateral.

It was all very impressive.

Even more impressive, I made it though the whole night without a single mispronunciation or flub. Parents and organizers said my enunciations were flawless and I’ll be welcomed back next year.

I went home without having caused any parental dismay or scandal.

And that to me spells relief.

Related . . .

What happened at last week’s spelling bee

Word Master: I’m the boss of the bee

An alphabetically-ordered world

Expense accounting the National Spelling Bee

Searching for Mr. Stupid

Caesar Flickerman not real so NBC will stay with Brian Williams

(662 words)

Brian Williams, we’re told, is taking a break from delivering the news while he reflects on how his exaggerations have smeared his reputation.

Don’t you believe it.

I suspect he’s right now rehearsing a news variety program that will showcase his many diverse talents. It wouldn’t surprise me if it involves Brian playing a banjo.

Because the people who are right now weighing Williams’s fate are the same ones who encouraged him to become what he is.

They are the ones who urged him to go slow jam the news with Jimmy Fallon, to show off his comic timing on “30 Rock,” and to be the first and only network anchor to host SNL.

They are the ones who so blurred the lines of news and entertainment that Williams could no longer see there even was a line over which he could trip.

It’s sad, really. He was encouraged to be an entertainer and now he’s in trouble for being entertaining.

The thinking has been, I guess, that news of things like school shootings and ISIL beheadings will be easier for viewers to take if viewers have a handy recollection of the man delivering the news being funny with Tina Fey.

Anchors today are so desperate to appear they are not Ron Burgundy that they’ve all become Ron Burgundy.

I think it’s why so many people get their news from Jon Stewart. It’s all the absurdity of our current network and cable news programs without any of the holier-than-thou pretense.

Me? I remain a defiant traditionalist when it comes to news consumption. I read the local papers everyday and The New York Times whenever I can.

As for TV news, I’m satisfied with CBS network programming. I love Charlie and Norah in the morning partly, I’ll admit because the romantic in me suspects they’re in love (see link below). I think the best political host is Bob Schieffer. 

And Scott Pelley does a right-down-the-middle newscast.  What I like best about Pelley is how little I know about him.

Unlike Williams, I don’t know who his favorite football team is, if he likes NASCAR or if his children act in HBO shows I’ll never watch.

Pelley merely reads the news. In fact, his delivery is so perfectly neutral I expect he’d read a story about the world ending tomorrow with something like, “Global events are gathering to ensure the five-day forecast for your local weather won’t take as long as it usually does . . .”

So I’m old-fashioned. My opinions would throw off the survey curves of the audience sought by NBC or any of the too-obnoxious-to-watch political networks.

But given trends that started with Walter Cronkite and have spiraled through to Anderson Cooper, it’s easy to predict the future face of broadcast news.

It’s Caesar Flickerman!

He’s the glib, blue-haired dandy who does such a compelling job as host/anchor of “The Hunger Games.”

He’s handsome, he winks, he intones, he chuckles, he preens.

I sense he checks all the boxes NBC executives seek when they are looking for their dream anchor.

The only problem preventing NBC from going after him is that Flickerman is a wholly fictional character and Ryan Seacrest, who by all accounts is real, is out of their price range.

That leaves damaged-goods Brian Williams.

What will happen to him?

Nothing. Insulated by his appeal, he’ll skate with this minor shaming. He should be dismissed, of course. He’s a punchline and once you’ve lost your credibility, that should be it.

But, again, I’m old-fashioned.

Really, who is NBC going to find that gives them more of what they want than Williams?

He’s funny. He’s warm. He’s caring. And, boy, does he tell a compelling story.

I do have one suggestion for any network eager to discover the next perfect anchor.

Begin your search in Alaska.

There’s bound to be some really great anchors in Anchorage. 

Related . . .

Charlie & Norah: a CBS morning news love story

Taiwanese animators coloring future news

Dr. Nancy & the Ebola River Blues

On HBO’s “Girls,” being naked vs. bein’ nekkid

Matt Lauer’s got the blues

Arrivederci, Ann Curry

What happened at last week's Spelling Bee

(981 words)

There was a brief moment when I thought of asking the nervous third graders to spell “mahankali,” “snigdha,” “sukanya,” and “shivashankar.”

Those weren’t approved spelling words.

They are some of the names of recent National Spelling Bee winners.

I didn’t do it because I didn’t want to do anything that might stir controversy at the Greensburg Chapter Rotary sponsored spelling bee for 30 top students from the Greensburg Salem and Hempfield Area school districts last Thursday.

Yet controversy is what we nearly had.

It was all over a common word, a noun, that every single adult I’ve since tested it on failed to spell properly.

I’ll get to that, but first I want to share some of things that go through the mind of the designated word master as he or she reads the words aloud to 8 and 9 year olds standing on an elementary school stage before about 100 parents, teachers and supporters.

First was this: Never, ever move your lips like you’re spelling the words you just said aloud when the kid is staring straight at you. Adhering to this commonsense benchmark was incredibly difficult because the children were so darling. Many of them were very nervous and I wanted them all to succeed.

Yes, I was hoping I’d preside over the very first spelling bee to end in a 30-way tie.

Ribbons and trophies for all the kiddies!

In my pre-bee preparation I’d tried to emulate Caesar Flickerman, the flamboyant Stanley Tucci character who hosts “The Hunger Games.” I wanted to be ingratiating, fun and put the children at ease. And having for two hours a captive audience usually brings out the ham in me.

It’s a tribute to the gravity of the situation that I didn’t make even one stupid joke.

Instead, I was incredibly disciplined. This rare burst of appropriate behavior emerged because I right away realized I was part of a very professional team of judges and Rotary facilitators who were eager to ensure this bee flew right — and if you’ve seen bees fly you’ll know that’s an ambitious goal.

During the first round I’d greet the students with a smile and say, “Your word is ‘mark.’” Then I’d say it in a sentence, “I accidentally made a mark on Joe’s paper.”

Words from the first round included “grow,” “bark,” “skip,” “kick,” and “crop.”

There was no bell in this bee. Instead one of the judges held one of two signs; one read, “Correct,” the other, “Incorrect.”

We sailed through the Round 3 until we got to the word “autumn,” and a girl transposed the “m” with the “n.” I knew right then she’d go the rest of her life despising the word, if not the whole damn season.

If I had been Caesar Flickerman and this had been “The Hunger Games” I’d have had a big lever beside me and have pulled it triggering a trap door beneath the speller and sending her into a void from which there’d be no return.

Instead I just stared at her with a consoling little smile and watched her sadly walk away.

Man, did I want to give her a hug. I felt so bad for each of them as one-by-one I had a role in shattering their dream of winning glory, a trophy, a free iPad and a chance to ride in the Rotary car during the July Fourth parade.

The departed left on Round 5 words like “temperament,” “lieutenant,” “caricature,” and licorice.”

We were at it for 90 minutes and my feet were starting to hurt. Still, about half were still going strong in Round 7 with words like “chandelier,” “limousine,” “buoyant,” and “aerodynamic.”

I’d read through 223 words by the time my word book moved into uncharted territory. I announced to the students and the audience: “We are now entering the Bonus Round. You will now be asked to spell words you’ve not had a chance to study.”

There were six students left and I’m not exaggerating when I say it was the most tension-filled room I’ve been in since my wife gave birth.

The situation was ripe for controversy — and I don’t mean “controversy” was one of the spelling words, although for the sake of irony I’d have enjoyed it if “controversy” had led to bee controversy.

No, the word was the name of a state.

It doesn’t matter which one, because I’d wager none of you would spell it correctly either, as did none of the 20 or so people I’ve since asked.

It was Pennsylvania.

The boy spelled it “P E N N S Y L V A N I A,” which is under any other circumstances the proper way to spell Pennsylvania.

Just not in an official spelling bee when it is supposed to be spelled “Capital P ENNSYLVANIA.”

But the judge had held up the “Correct” sign at the spelling and the boy sat down and watched the next three students — the last three students — misspell “syringe,” “zephyr,” and “ventriloquist.”

That’s when after some conferring the judges realized their error, as unfair as it was. Had I been more experienced I’d have had the savvy to skip what in hindsight looks like a dirty trick question.

I explained their decision and told the boy he had to make the walk of shame. 

But it all worked out in the end. The judges decided it would have been an unjust conclusion and invited the boy and the last three dismissees back to the stage to have another go.

And the Pennsylvanian won!

Well, we were all Pennsylvanians, but I think you know what I mean.

I had so much fun I hope they’ll have me back again next year and I’m going to promote my services to spelling bee organizers in states from Maine to California

I think doing so is a capital idea.

Related . . .

Searching for Mr. Stupid

Chris Rodell, Word Master! I’m boss of the bee

Expense accounting the National Spelling Bee

The long, true story of my epic Game 7