BREAKING NEWS: Zach takes third in a bee, see?

Over the past month, the Hamilton household could easily have been dubbed Excitement City, USA. As if moving, tending to the new house, and welcoming a new baby wasn't enough stimulation, Zach and Zoë's school has kept us jumping with an onslaught of activities, including field trips, conferences, an open house, parties, and as we learned last week, the school's annual spelling bee.

Since moving to Redding, we've been pleased to find that Boulder Creek Elementary is BIG on extra-curriculars, evidenced by the fact that the school's bi-weekly newsletter includes a list of upcoming events that typically fills an entire page. But as we've also learned, while many of them are well-publicized, others are less so, left to the buzz created by tradition-steeped students and parents. Heading into the month of Zienna’s birth, Kelly and I had tried to nail down every significant calendar item to ensure the existing Z Kids wouldn't get lost in the shuffle. But we were caught off-guard by a few—including the school’s bee.

Coinciding with the Scripps Howard National Spelling Bee, the local versions are a pretty big deal, making the front page of the local paper, the Record Searchlight, in a series dedicated before, during and after to "Bee Week." Pity the new transplants like us who weren't aware of them—or prepared for all the fanfare.

Between having no school on Labor Day and missing Tuesday with a stomach bug, Zach didn’t learn until Wednesday that—surprise—he apparently needed to be prepared by Friday for the class-level elimination rounds of Boulder Creek's bee. Kelly and I weren't overly concerned, given that Zach is an excellent speller with a vocabulary about his teacher can't stop raving—most likely the result of the challenging books he chooses to read. But when we learned that the words for the bee would run to 10th grade level, we planned a practice session for Thursday night.

When I arrived to pick Zach up from school Thursday, I was surprised to see a dejected look on his face, a sure sign that something was wrong. Sadly, he explained that he'd misunderstood the week's schedule and that qualifying rounds of the bee had actually begun that day. With zero preparation, he'd missed the cut on a technicality (Lesson One: Say the word after you spell it to signify you have finished.). As I said, they take their bees seriously up here. Back at home, Kelly and I assured Zach we were determined to help him succeed. We offered to sit down right there and then to practice, only to find out that—sigh—Zach had forgotten his word list at school. Heading back to school to retrieve it, we were left with less than 24 hours to get ready.

The next morning, Zach was nervous but reasonably well-prepared, and Kelly and I encouraged him to relax and do his best. Thinking about him throughout the day, I still figured he stood a decent chance of making the cut, and when he emerged from school that afternoon, it was clear that he had. With a broad smile and eyes aglow, he proudly reported that he'd be taking part in the bee—in the gym, before a crowd of his fellow students, with his very involved principal, Mr. Porter, residing over the ceremonies.

With attaboys and high fives properly dispensed, we laid out a plan for me and Kelly to drill Zach over the weekend to prepare for the big event. But with a new baby needing attention, a previously-scheduled gymnastics play date on the calendar, and other normal weekend stuff of which to take care, it was Sunday night before any of us knew it. Yes, Zach had carried his word list around with him and glanced at the words a bit, but he hadn’t studied them nearly as much as we'd hoped. As bedtime beckoned, we suddenly recognized our collective oversight, and Kelly promptly hustled Zach downstairs for an impromptu mock bee.

With the poor kid ready for bed and tired from a long weekend, it didn't help that, seeing the attention Zach's mastery of words was drawing, Zoë decided that she, too, wanted to "spell" them. Occasional squawks from Zienna and echoed "spellings" by Zoë aside, Zach plowed through the list of words, missing only a few. We focused on the troublesome ones, did all we could to boost his confidence, and taught him mnemonics we hoped would help (including the "R sepaRates the As" trick to help with that word, which had tripped him up earlier in the week—ironically, one of my old nemeses). He went to bed sounding a bit nervous but believing he could do well. So far, so good.

Unfortunately, Sunday night was our first really rough one with Zienna. She had us up most of the night, and as a result, Monday morning went NOTHING like I'd hoped. I finally crashed on the sofa at about 6:00 am with Zienna on my chest, and it wasn't until well after 7:00—with us needing to head for school no later than 7:40—that Zach woke me up. YIKES! The next few minutes were a blur of rushing around trying to get everyone out of the house, especially since I hadn't packed Zach's lunch and Zoë was slated to bring cupcakes—not yet purchased—for a class birthday celebration. With everyone working together, we somehow made it on time, preserving Zach's four-year record of never having been tardy. Still, it was a far cry from the calm, relaxing morning I'd planned for Zach’s benefit.

Seven hours later, when I arrived to pick him up from school, I knew immediately that it had all turned out OK. The minute Zach saw me, he hoisted his fist triumphantly into the air, clutching a ribbon, trophy and t-shirt—his booty for a job well done. Still, as he jumped into the truck, he was somewhat apologetic in announcing that he’d placed third. Apparently, with the bee running long and the kids in the audience departing for recess, the participants had struggled to hear Mr. Porter in the late rounds. When Zach’s turn had come, he’d misunderstood the word he was to spell, and rather than asking to have it repeated, he guessed—and guessed incorrectly. Based on our practice Sunday night, I firmly believe Zach could have won the bee hands down. But in the end, it didn't matter. He'd learned another lesson (Lesson Two: Ask to have the word repeated if you have ANY doubt about it.), and by doing so, sealed his fate.

Careless mistake or not, I couldn't have cared less. I was so excited that I could barely contain myself. Jumping up and down in my seat, I tried to express to Zach how proud of him I was and why he had no need to apologize. And as I did so, the look on his face changed. To my relief, it was clear that he was proud, too. Realizing I wasn't disappointed, he explained what had happened and added that while he'd initially been upset, he'd realized a few minutes later that it was OK, and he felt good about what he’d accomplished.

Most important lesson learned (Lesson Three: Do your best, and don’t have any regrets.). Hurray.

Of more than 150 kids to whom this whole thing wasn't a new experience—and who'd had time to prepare mentally and otherwise—Zach, the new kid who’d had only a couple days' preparation, not only qualified for the bee but come in third. So you're darn right he had reason to be proud. As Kelly and I would discuss later in the evening, if something academic-related could mean this much to Zach, then for all our miscues as parents, we were clearly getting across the right priorities to him—including a healthy desire to excel.

On our way home, Zach and I took a detour to grab some celebratory frozen yogurt, a fitting award given the 95-degree temperature. Even though the yogurt melted quickly in the mid-afernoon heat, I was in no hurry. Tired as I was, I knew this would go down as a day to remember, and I wanted to relish it. My son had made himself and his parents proud, learned some important life lessons, and given me even more reasons to love him for the very cool kid that he is—no matter how you spelled it.

If you'd like to send Zach a congratulatory e-mail, I'm sure he'd love it. You can reach Zach at his personal e-mail address here.