spellerific

I have never been a good speller. The older I get, the worse my spelling becomes. In fourth grade, in an extremely rare act of rebellion and dishonesty, I decide that is all going to change. We would have a spelling test of about twenty words every Friday. The teacher let us know that if we got a perfect score on every spelling test for the entire year, then we would get to skip the final spelling test. She could not have offered anything more appealing to me. There was nothing I hated more than spelling at the time, except maybe reading.
Each Friday, at one ‘o clock, we would clear our desks and pull out one sheet of lined paper and a pencil. Miss Sellek would read off the terms one at a time and we would scribble them down our pre-numbered papers. It was an excruciating process. At the end of the painfully long process to spell all twenty words, we would pull out our spelling books and grade our own papers. I would prop my spelling book up on its end so that it covered my paper. I would erase every word on the page and rewrite them. I was not going to take that last spelling test. For a boy who can get in trouble the very first time he jaywalks, it was a miracle from Satan that I was able to pull this off for an entire year. I did it! I did not have to take the last spelling test. The three of us brilliant students who were able to spell better than the rest sat at a separate table able to talk with each other or read while the rest took the last spelling test. I was consumed with anxiety and guilt. During the award ceremony, I wanted to melt into the floor as I went up to accept my perfect spelling certificate. Mom and Dad would talk about that award for years to come, their son may not be able to spell, but he was perfect at it at one point. Maybe taking the test would have been a more pleasurable option. God has had His revenge, since I still even misspell my own name at times. Someone reading my writing would assume that my education stopped around sixth grade and would never guess that I am actually a well educated man. I experienced guilt around this choice for nearly twelve years. I was a senior in college before I admitted to my dad how his son received that blessed award.