My+Memoir-+Molly

__**My Memoir**__ by Molly Pyne-Jaeger

I stared out at the blur of faces in the audience as I licked my dry lips. Fervent or fervor? Fervent or fervor? Fervent or fervor? If I misspelled it, it was okay because I still got second place, but I had to try. //Let's go with fervent,// I thought.

I have always been a good speller. For a long time I never have had spelling errors in the papers I write. My mother says I have a gift with language arts. So naturally I compete in spelling bees. I don't even remember why I did the first one. It was in 2nd grade, very informal. I remember nothing but a bright colored poster on the wall and the first word being "sun." I don't have any idea how many kids there were or what word I won on.

In 3rd grade I did it again. This time I was actually nervous. (Or maybe it's that I just don't remember being nervous before.) I didn't like being in front of a big audience by myself. I still don't, especially with spelling. And I was afraid of making a fool of myself, misspelling an easy word and leaving the stage in disgrace. But I did it and I got a white certificate with gold trimming, that stated that I had won on "urge." I remember what the room looked like to this day. I remember the hard blue plastic chairs, set in a circle formation. I remember peering behind me at my mom, and sometimes my friends. There, although this does not normally happen in my spelling bees, I got revenge. My arch-enemy (if you can have them in 3rd grade. I was only eight, I think) spelled "urge" "erge." Now, don't get me wrong. I am not by nature a malicious person, but this girl would pretend to be your friend and then steal things from you. It happened to me three times, and to my best friend, Caitlin, which was worse. So I was glad that I beat her, that time.

In 4th grade, it was far more formal. We did a little mock-up in class to decide who would go to the real one. Luckily, I went with my good friend. We mounted the stage (sitting, once again, in uncomfortable blue plastic chairs) and sat together on the stage, the red curtains all around us. There was a microphone at the front of the stage. Below that was a table with the judges, the Bell of Doom (as I like to call it) and the glittering, gold-and-green trophy. This is an example of the power of visualization. I imagined myself holding that trophy, with its marble stand and golden bee, and somewhere around an hour later, after trembling, worrying and watching other kids misspell words, I was holding it for real. My friend Sigrid had missed "taupe," which I couldn't have spelled either. I didn't even know what it was. To this day, I still think that it was unfair of the organizers to include that word in an elementary school spelling bee. The girl, with me, who was one of the last two up on the stage, chairs right in front of the microphone now, missed "hibiscus," and I spelled that right and then "apartheid," and my whole fourth grade class exploded cheering. I was so proud.

In 5th grade, positive I could do it again, I entered another spelling bee. It was the most challenging I had yet been in. There were kids of all ages. I think there were thirty-three of them, arranged in rows on those annoying hard blue plastic chairs (are those spelling bee regulation?), with the royal blue curtains around us like a trap. Most memorable? A tiny girl who looked about six years old, who spelled almost perfectly up to the end. I remember most of the room winners to this day. The Room 2 winner was a friend of mine, Sheppard. The Room 3 winner was either Angela or Christina Lee. (I never really knew, because I didn't really hear the name and they are identical twins, so it is pretty much impossible to tell them apart. I do not remember the Room 4 winner. (If I had been acquainted with them, I definitely would remember.) My friend Esther got the Room 5 trophy and my friend Sinclaire came close. I ended up the Grand Champion, as they called it, and once again, was almost perfectly happy.

But what came of that was the Regional bee. That was probably the most nerve-wracking experience I have ever had to go through. I studied the lists for months beforehand and right up until I had to get on the stage. It was at the Walter Reed Middle School auditorium. The curtain behind us, like at my school, was royal blue. There was a huge banner welcoming us to the Regional Spelling Bee. I was so scared I was literally shaking. I thought, //I can't win. There are too many kids. I won't even come close.// And just like a robot, I sat there. I waited for my turn. I walked up and spelled the words. I sat back down, doing something un-robot-like: breathing a sigh of relief. And I sat there as the line dwindled, waiting, waiting for my demise. Then there were suddenly only the two of us left. Me and this girl, Marika Fox. Then it came. The word that brought me down. Fervorous. Oh yes, now I know how to spell the word, and much good it does me now! But I thought of "fervent" and spelled it with an "e." And that cursed little bell rang- it had been dinging its little way into my head that whole time. I knew what to do. I stepped down. But I had won second place, and really, for now that was all the glory I wanted. Marika was thirteen and had gotten in three times, never winning. This time she won, and she deserved it. She had tried three times, tried much harder than me. I didn't want to go to Washington at the moment. Second place was better than I had ever expected I would get. I was so happy. Life felt exquisite.

Still, today, I look back on that as a life-changing, important and wonderful experience, and something I would not change for the world. I still hope someday I can win, and I will, but that loss was a big part of my life and something that helped shape who I am today. It helped me think about how loss can change you for the better. It taught me to be more glad for the people that won. I know it helped enrich me in other ways, too. (Plus, now I know how to spell fervorous.)