The land is buzzing with busy bees. Buzz, buzz, buzz: we wonder how it does that quay is a homophone with key and sea? Does I always go before E, except after C. So what weight would you grant to freight, pray? Are you geared up for such heterographic homophones as pair/pare/pear and rite/write/right?
More than 400 schools have already entered for the Times Spelling Bee challenge, far more at this stage than for last year’s premiere. Children are training on interactive games to pin down desiccate and accommodate, and to distinguish those old enemies harass and embarrass.
No problem with bee, then (except to distinguish the honey-making insect from the present indicative of the verb). In allusion to the social character of the insect, more than two centuries ago, bee came to mean, by allusion, a gathering or meeting for some object. Spelling (orthography) is different from spelling (witchcraft), though they are cognate, from the same root for speech. And there is a magic in English spelling that enchants these eager spellers.
Not just that children enjoy a challenge, competition and difficulty. But they find that spelling, like archaeology, reveals the sources of the composite English language. Beneath these complex and tricky spellings lie the roots of the Mother Tongue. Its spellings enrich the language, as well as wearing their passports on their faces. The richness of English is displayed in its spellings, which are phonetically inconsistent but revealing. There is poetry in spelling, and our busy bees are learning it. So back to our wizardry, children: millennium, millenary, eschscholtz(s)ia...