N-E-R-D-A-L-E-R-T.

What's better than winning the National Spelling Bee? (Having sex before you're 40?) If you ask the winner, Kavya Shivashankar, nothing; this is undoubtedly the greatest thing to happen to her in her short 13 years. Especially since she lives in Kansas.

Kavya rarely paused and never stumbled over a word. Obviously, she's been groomed from day 1 to win a national spelling championship–frankly, with a name like Kavya Shivashankar , how could you not be? The 200 points you gain for spelling your name correctly on the SAT are in her case, for once, actually earned.

And good for her.

Watching those kids spell is nothing short of astonishing. The man with that monotonous voice, who sounds dignified and professional during a competition, but off stage probably sounds like a creepy pedophile on a playground, pronounces each word like he's part of a SNL skit; and sitting at home, I think I've nailed each word. (Look, I've taken 4+ years of Latin, I know my etemollogees and oarigins.) I mentally spell the word in my head and wait for it to appear on the bottom of the screen.

I came very close to getting the correct spelling – once. Yet, those 12 and 13-year-old kids get up there, ask for the definition and then spit that spelling out with such authority that you'd think they were spelling their own names. (Again, bonus points for Kavya Shivashankar.)

I am simultaneously impressed and jealous (I also suspect that with each growing year, I'm becoming borderline mentally retarded), because I had my own run-in with a spelling bee. In 3rd grade, Mrs. Sweeney created a class bee. Depending on your level of spelling expertise, you were grouped into three distinct categories: Top Elite, Elite, or...Frankly, I don't remember the third category; I meandered only between Top Elite and Elite. (In your face, remedial spellers!) That's just how I rolled. (Nerdy and chubby!)

In all honesty, I vacationed in Top Elite for half the year, but I truly resided in Elite. I could blame my almost permanent Elite-status on my insufficient spelling, but I choose to blame Mrs. Sweeney's aqua colored pantsuits. They were mesmerizing; that one giant piece of bright fabric made Mrs. Sweeney look like she was about to board The Love Boat to celebrate Mrs. Roper's birthday with a night cap. Plus, Mrs. Sweeney's scent of choice was Coppertone suntan lotion. A comforting smell, yes. But when you're 8 and stuck in a classroom in the middle of June surrounded by the smell of suntan lotion? Borderline cruel. I mean really, under those circumstances how could anyone be expected to correctly spell "onomatopoeia"? ("Is that one of the fancy drinks Isaac made on the Lido Deck? No?")

Clearly, Scripps would not be calling me anytime soon. However, there was one student who showed great promise. She was the greatest speller to ever pass through Coleman School. (With the exception of that one kid who actually made it to finals of the National Spelling Bee, but he wasn't my friend and therefore doesn't count.) I bet she watches the National Spelling Bee and wonders what could have been.

Still to this day, those people in Mrs. Sweeney's 3rd grade class can't say the name "Connie Yim" without marrying it with "Top Elite Speller". Connie was the master; the undisputed champ. She was unbeatable.

Until that fateful day.

I don't remember which word tripped her up, but I remember the reaction. It was a tense moment. Connie was about to spell in order to keep her standing as top of Top Elite. Mrs. Sweeney gave Connie the word, and Connie paused. And during that time, Andy farted and then blamed it on Helen. (She, apparently, had smelt it.) Andy's farting and blaming it on others was not unusual–it was rumored his mom fed him prunes at dinner– but Connie's long and uncertain pause certainly was. After the fits of giggles over poor Helen's cries of denial,"I didn't 'dealt it'!," the class fell silent. It was Connie vs. Whatever-The-Word-Was.

Connie began to slowly spell. Almost immediately the class knew she missed a letter; it was devastating. Mrs. Sweeney made it official by informing Connie and the class that she was no longer in Top Elite.

My God, the horror. A third grader who was now merely a way-above average speller.

There were no tears, but Mrs. Sweeney suggested that Connie go out into the hall to perhaps collect her thoughts. (Good luck spelling them!) As Connie sat in the hallway doing God knows what (planning revenge against all those who wear pantsuits?), Mrs. Sweeney walked back into our room looking forlorn. She explained that this was going to be a very difficult time for Connie and that she would need our support. And more importantly, nobody should mention the words "Top Elite" to her.

This was as serious as it gets for 8-year-old kids, and Andy marked the devastation by hurling a spitball towards Helen's head.

A few minutes later, Connie walked back into the classroom, and you could hear crickets chirping. Seriously. We had a terrarium full of pet crickets on the windowsill. (Please, like you've never wanted to snuggle with a pet cricket!) I can't express how serious a situation we thought this was; we were frozen in our chairs, unable to think of anything to say. Connie sat down at her desk, and nobody mentioned Top Elite for the rest of the year.

In fact, Mrs. Sweeney had us so convinced that even uttering the words "Top Elite" would send Connie into such a never ending pit of despair, that nobody mentioned those words for the next four years.

We were in 7th grade, sitting around our lunch table in the cafeteria, probably talking about who we decided to hate that day, when Connie made a snide comment to no one in particular. And all of a sudden, without provocation, Nupur pipes up and says with perfect 7th-grade-bitchery delivery, "Whatever, Top Elite."

Stunned silence. Was Connie going to go all Hulk on Nupur? How could we acknowledge Nupur's simple yet brilliant retort while avoiding the wrath of Con? And then, laughter. Hysterical laughter.

It was a classic line. So classic, that we still use it today. And unfortunately for Connie, who makes so many snide and sarcastic remarks to not only friends but also strangers that it's amazing she hasn't been beaten, she hears the words Top Elite often.

I suspect Kavya Shivashankar will never have this problem.

Good for her.