After the bee
This was written the morning after the finals of the Scripps National Spelling Bee.
A world ended with the sound of a bell.
It wasn’t a very big world. It didn’t last for very long. But it was a meaningful world for me, a world built up by a year and a half of careful study, a world that gave me countless lessons and memories in exchange for my efforts. And now it’s gone.
That’s why the gentle ring of the bell brought me sadness—not because it meant I didn’t win first place, but because it heralded the end of a wonderful time. Every minute of the spelling bee taught me something new: how to stay calm under pressure, how to make friends instead of rivals, how to accept success and defeat, how much the support of my friends and family means, how people can be talented and gracious and dedicated all at once.
But it left me with one question: How do I deal with the loss of my spelling bee world?
Twelve hours later, with a little more distance between me and the end of the competition, I think I know the answer: I don’t have to deal with losing this world because it will be with me forever. I will always keep the skills I learned, the support I had, and the joy of seeing my work pay off. These precious intangibles, far more important than money and fame, are the prizes of the spelling bee.
I don’t think I’m the only speller who feels this way. Last night, before the finals, I was talking to the other finalists about how the spelling bee might affect our chances of getting into a good college. We all agreed that the words “national spelling bee finalist” would be interesting but not incredibly important on a college application. But we also agreed that the lessons we learned on the way to the bee will make a difference. The determination, composure, encouragement, and motivation we gained in the last two years will make it easier for us to tackle new worlds down the road. They will help in the world of high school, of athletics, of music, of community service. These worlds will, in turn, carve a path to the world of college, and college will create hundreds of new worlds. It’s a chain reaction that will go on and on.
This valuable lesson of taking experiences from old worlds and using them to transition to new ones extends far past the example of the spelling bee. It can apply to any field we love—sports, arts, academics—as long as we are willing to devote our best efforts to that field. Besides, it’s comforting to know that we won’t take just a skill set from our previous worlds. It’s comforting to know that we can take happiness, too, and friendships, and love. It’s comforting to know that no matter what, old worlds never die—they will guide and inspire us as we search for new worlds.
Alia Abiad, 14, is in eighth grade at McClure Junior High in Illinois in the United States. She finished in fifth place at the recently concluded Scripps National Spelling Bee held outside Washington, DC. She was born in Quezon City and moved with her parents to the Chicago area when she was a year old. Her father, Homer Abiad, contributed to YoungBlood in May 1996.
