Back when I was still at elementary school – it must have been the 5th grade – I was chosen (or possibly won an in-school contest) to be the school’s candidate for the city-wide Spelling Bee. I’ll admit, I am very good at spelling but usually I have to see a difficult word written down before I know it’s right.

This is because of my aphantasia which I have told you all about several times, but for those of you who haven’t yet read those particular posts, I don’t see pictures in my head. Some people think I don’t really mean that – I do. I am not sure how I can remember faces or places, directions or stories but I can. It’s something to do with memory.

Anyway, I remember being tested by my mother and sisters who were holding a dictionary, checking my spelling of the ‘hard’ words they came across. I was pretty good at those words.

The day came when the best spellers in Cincinnati arrived at, I think, Hughes High School auditorium. We were greeted by whoever was there (the grown-ups) and lined up on the stage. Each of us was given, in turn, a word to spell. Slowly, but surely, the long line of great spellers dwindled to two – and I was one of those two!

With no pictures in my head, the only thing I can tell you about the other finalist is that it was a girl. It was her turn to answer first. She was given the word ‘scholar’. She spelled – S-C-H-O-L-A-R and was right. I was standing there thinking, “Phew! I’m glad she got that one. I’m not sure I could have.”

Then I was given my word ‘scholarship’. “Oh, thank goodness! She just spelled the hard part for me,” I thought. I started, “S-C-H-O-L-A-R’ and I paused with an “Uh” before continuing , “S-H-I-P.”

“No, sorry,” said the questioner. And asked the other candidate for the spelling. She reeled it off – and won the prize and I went home and cried.