by Pa Rock
Spelling Fool
I am a naturally good speller, it is a talent that I have always had, and one that continues to pop up among my descendants. Grandson Boone won his class spelling bee every year from kindergarten through 8th grade - and Granddaughter Olive, currently a second-grader, can out-spell many adults. A dictionary really isn't necessary if there is a Macy in the room - but my family had one anyway.
My parents noticed this gift of mine at an early age, and I clearly remember how proud my mother was when she brought home our first family dictionary. I was in the third grade and I immediately curled up in a corner and began thumbing through the thick volume with the very thin pages. I was looking for the longest words so that I could learn how to spell them!
My third grade teacher at the Goodman (Missouri) Elementary School was Miss Melva Foley. (I did a posting on her in this blog several years ago.). Miss Foley had a game that she would play at the chalkboard on rainy days when we could not go outside for recess. She would print a long word on the board and then we, myself and the other students, would make careful lists of all of the individual words that we could make from her long one. I usually won - it was a game that I really got into.
When my mother brought home the new dictionary I wanted to find a superior word to give to Miss Foley for her rainy day game. The longest word that I found in that old Webster's was "spondylotherapeutics." I remember the word and the spelling to this day - although Google does not!
It was also in Miss Foley's third grade class at the Goodman Elementary where my classmates and I learned the states and capitals. Another gift that year was a states and capitals "machine" that my dad brought home one day. I have no idea where he found the small metal contraption, but remember it well. It could be held in one hand and operated with the other. A small metal handle was pulled and reels inside spun - and the names of four states were revealed in open windows. Above those windows under flip tabs were the names of the capitals. Players guessed (or knew) the capitals, and then lifted the tabs to see in they were right or not. It was a "Skinner" machine of sorts that provided immediate feedback and the positive reinforcement that comes with getting something right - even if no one else knew it but the player.
Obviously I became a whiz at states and capitals. Combine that with my innate spelling abilities and I was headed toward a career of map or globe-making with the National Geographic Society. (Lord, how I wish that I had not missed that bus!)
I learned to spell the names of lots of places, both domestic as well as international. Santa Fe may have been the capital of New Mexico, but I pushed on and mastered the correct spelling of Albuquerque before spelling Albuquerque was cool. I also learned to spell Juneau before Alaska even became a state, and I could spell my way along the Mexican border from Tijuana to Chihuahua to Ciudad Juarez. I could also spell the capital cities of Tegucigalpa (Honduras), Reykjavik (Iceland), and Kathmandu (Nepal). Did you realize Kathmandu has that "h"? Bob Seger didn't.
And the states of the United States were child's play for this child. Two of the hardest were Connecticut and Mississippi (Remember that horrible mnemonic that we were taught in grade school: M-I-crooked letter - crooked letter - I - crooked letter - crooked letter - I - hump back - hump back - I? It was harder than learning to spell the damned state int he first place!).
But the toughest state to spell of the entire forty-eight was this one: Massachusetts. I mastered it after just a few tries.
A couple of years ago my sister went on a bus tour to New England with a group of old farts. Going on a bus tour with the Gray Panthers is one of my two ideas of hell - the other is a Disney Cruise (and I've already been on a Disney Cruise, so I am probably destined to spend eternity on a bus crammed with complaining senior citizens!). But dear Gail, who is now dear Abigail after a recent legal name change, likes bus tours, and on this trip to New England she brought back a sweatshirt for me from Plymouth, Massachusetts. Actually the shirt proudly proclaims:
One is almost forced to conclude that my sister brought be a sweatshop sweatshirt, something that was printed and sewn together in some third-world country where the correct spelling of difficult American words (and states) is still a work in progress - someplace like Dhaka, Bangladesh or Ashgabat, Turkmenistan!
But now I'm just showing off!
Spelling Fool
I am a naturally good speller, it is a talent that I have always had, and one that continues to pop up among my descendants. Grandson Boone won his class spelling bee every year from kindergarten through 8th grade - and Granddaughter Olive, currently a second-grader, can out-spell many adults. A dictionary really isn't necessary if there is a Macy in the room - but my family had one anyway.
My parents noticed this gift of mine at an early age, and I clearly remember how proud my mother was when she brought home our first family dictionary. I was in the third grade and I immediately curled up in a corner and began thumbing through the thick volume with the very thin pages. I was looking for the longest words so that I could learn how to spell them!
My third grade teacher at the Goodman (Missouri) Elementary School was Miss Melva Foley. (I did a posting on her in this blog several years ago.). Miss Foley had a game that she would play at the chalkboard on rainy days when we could not go outside for recess. She would print a long word on the board and then we, myself and the other students, would make careful lists of all of the individual words that we could make from her long one. I usually won - it was a game that I really got into.
When my mother brought home the new dictionary I wanted to find a superior word to give to Miss Foley for her rainy day game. The longest word that I found in that old Webster's was "spondylotherapeutics." I remember the word and the spelling to this day - although Google does not!
It was also in Miss Foley's third grade class at the Goodman Elementary where my classmates and I learned the states and capitals. Another gift that year was a states and capitals "machine" that my dad brought home one day. I have no idea where he found the small metal contraption, but remember it well. It could be held in one hand and operated with the other. A small metal handle was pulled and reels inside spun - and the names of four states were revealed in open windows. Above those windows under flip tabs were the names of the capitals. Players guessed (or knew) the capitals, and then lifted the tabs to see in they were right or not. It was a "Skinner" machine of sorts that provided immediate feedback and the positive reinforcement that comes with getting something right - even if no one else knew it but the player.
Obviously I became a whiz at states and capitals. Combine that with my innate spelling abilities and I was headed toward a career of map or globe-making with the National Geographic Society. (Lord, how I wish that I had not missed that bus!)
I learned to spell the names of lots of places, both domestic as well as international. Santa Fe may have been the capital of New Mexico, but I pushed on and mastered the correct spelling of Albuquerque before spelling Albuquerque was cool. I also learned to spell Juneau before Alaska even became a state, and I could spell my way along the Mexican border from Tijuana to Chihuahua to Ciudad Juarez. I could also spell the capital cities of Tegucigalpa (Honduras), Reykjavik (Iceland), and Kathmandu (Nepal). Did you realize Kathmandu has that "h"? Bob Seger didn't.
And the states of the United States were child's play for this child. Two of the hardest were Connecticut and Mississippi (Remember that horrible mnemonic that we were taught in grade school: M-I-crooked letter - crooked letter - I - crooked letter - crooked letter - I - hump back - hump back - I? It was harder than learning to spell the damned state int he first place!).
But the toughest state to spell of the entire forty-eight was this one: Massachusetts. I mastered it after just a few tries.
A couple of years ago my sister went on a bus tour to New England with a group of old farts. Going on a bus tour with the Gray Panthers is one of my two ideas of hell - the other is a Disney Cruise (and I've already been on a Disney Cruise, so I am probably destined to spend eternity on a bus crammed with complaining senior citizens!). But dear Gail, who is now dear Abigail after a recent legal name change, likes bus tours, and on this trip to New England she brought back a sweatshirt for me from Plymouth, Massachusetts. Actually the shirt proudly proclaims:
And I wore that sweatshirt for two years never noticing that the state contained an extra "s" - until this past week when one afternoon while sorting through shirts on hangers, the misspelling just jumped out at me. I was so shocked to see it on an official piece of tourist merchandise that one of my first thoughts was that I had been misspelling the state name all of these years - God forbid! So I hit the Google and was soon reassured that though I may not be smart enough for a career at National Geographic, I am smarter than that particular sweatshirt.America's HometowmPlymouth, MassachussettsSince 1620
One is almost forced to conclude that my sister brought be a sweatshop sweatshirt, something that was printed and sewn together in some third-world country where the correct spelling of difficult American words (and states) is still a work in progress - someplace like Dhaka, Bangladesh or Ashgabat, Turkmenistan!
But now I'm just showing off!
1 comment:
We had a big family dictionary which caused me great conflict & consternation. My dictionary said I spelled words like "behaviour" correctly. The teacher disagreed.
My English dictionary was written for use in England and not America. It was sad as I really enjoyed that large old book.
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