“The Spelling Bee”

       It was a regular Tuesday morning; I was in Mrs. Francone’s 5^th grade class waiting for it to start. The bell had just rung, and my classmates and I were settling into our seats when our teacher made an unexpected announcement: there would be a school-wide spelling bee, and today our class would hold its own competition to determine who would represent us. The room instantly filled with chatter and excitement, but I felt none of it. I sank into my chair, convinced there was no way I’d be chosen.

        I always tried to be the top student in my classes to make my family proud, and even though I did amazing in math and science, reading/writing class never allowed it. English had never come easily to me. As someone who grew up in a Hispanic household, I often spoke “Spanglish” which is a blend of Spanish and English words that made sense in my community but not always in the classroom. I’d often find myself asking, “What does that word mean?” or “I didn’t even know that word existed.” While others seemed to speak and spell fluently, I was still figuring out which words were real and which were made up. And I did get help from my teachers, but it was hard to practice how to read and write at home by myself.

Despite my doubts, our teacher asked everyone to line up for our mini in-class spelling bee. The winner would move on to compete with the other fifth-grade classes. I ended up somewhere in the middle of the line, not thinking much of it. I assumed I wouldn’t make it past the first round, so there was no pressure. I watched as my classmates spelled their words quickly and confidently, barely hesitating before answering. Then it was my turn. My word was “treasure.”

I paused. My hands were sweating, and my voice came out in a nervous whisper as I spelled: “T… R… E… A… S… U… R… E.”

To my surprise, I got it right. A few students rolled their eyes, probably annoyed that I had taken so long, but I had made it through. I kept advancing, round after round. Even as the words got harder and my anxiety grew stronger. Soon it was just me and another girl left.

    That final classroom round felt like the longest moment of my life. My heart was pounding, and the pressure felt unbearable. I wanted to give up just to avoid the embarrassment of losing in front of everyone. My final word was “scholarly”, a word I didn’t even understand at the time. But I had already come this far. I took a deep breath and gave it my best shot. I won. The feeling was overwhelming. I was proud but also terrified. Winning meant I had to compete in front of the entire school and that meant more people to mess up in front of, and more pressure than I thought I could handle. That night, I barely slept. My mom and I spent hours going over flashcards, practicing words I’d never seen before. She was my biggest supporter, sitting with me on the couch and helping me as much as she could.

The next day, I was called out of class to join the other finalists backstage. I felt a mix of nerves and excitement as I waited with the other students. We were all quiet, focused, and fidgeting. When it was finally time, we walked onto the stage, each of us taking a seat behind a chair labeled with our names. I sat in the back row, grateful for a little distance between me and the hundreds of eyes in the audience.

“Jacqueline, your word is rough,” the English dean called out.

I froze for a moment, spelling it out in my head before speaking slowly into the microphone: “R-O-U-G-H.” Correct.

As the rounds went on, the number of contestants shrank. From ten, we were down to six. Then four. Then three. Somehow, I was still standing. I couldn’t believe it. I looked into the crowd and saw my classmates cheering. My friends were yelling my name.

The two girls beside me smiled and whispered,

“We got this,” to each other, and to me.

      That’s when something shifted inside me. For the first time, I didn’t feel like the girl who didn’t belong. I didn’t feel like the outsider who spoke broken English or took too long to spell. I felt like a student who had worked hard, overcome fear, and earned her place on that stage. In the end, I didn’t win first place, but I did win second. And to me, that was everything. I had gone from doubting whether I’d make it through the first round to becoming one of the top students in the school-wide competition. That ribbon meant more than just a placement. It was a symbol of growth, of perseverance, and of pride.

      Looking back, I realized that although I have to work harder than others for certain things, I can definitely make it happen. Sometimes, it’s about showing up even when you’re scared, trying even when you’re unsure, and believing in yourself especially when it feels like no one else does.