Norton Juster: Spelling Bees and the Lands Beyond

June 2, 1929

On this day, the imaginative New York architect and beloved children’s book author, Norton Juster, was born.

In 1961, Norton gifted the world The Phantom Tollbooth, whisking generations of readers away with Milo and his make-believe Tollbooth to strange realms where language, whimsy, and wit abound.

Among Milo’s many encounters is the remarkable Spelling Bee—a creature both literal and playful, who delights in showing off his spelling skills. Enjoy this charming exchange:

“Then just as time ran out he spelled as fast as he could - ‘v-e-g-e-t-a-b-l-e’.

'Can you spell everything?' asked Milo admiringly.

'Just about,' replied the bee with a hint of pride in his voice.

'You see, years ago I was just an ordinary bee minding my own business, smelling flowers all day, and occasionally picking up part-time work in people's bonnets.

Then one day I realized that I'd never amount to anything without an education and, being naturally adept at spelling, I decided that—’”

It is at that very moment that another far-fetched character pops in, as only happens in the Lands Beyond.

But “spelling bee”—that curious phrase—is distinctly American.

Pioneers loved a good bee: there were sewing bees, quilting bees, husking bees, logging bees, spinning bees, and apple bees. True, barn-raisings and fire brigades never quite became barn bees or fire bees (a missed opportunity, perhaps).

The “spelling bee” found its home in print in the 1870s, its friendly moniker meant to describe those high-pressure, good-natured competitions that coaxed kids toward spelling mastery.

Lately, word sleuths propose that “bee” traces its lineage to the Middle English “bene,” for favor or prayer—the root of “beneficial.”

“Bene” morphed into “been” or “bean,” defined in Webster’s as “voluntary help given by neighbors toward the accomplishment of a particular task,” and from there, to our busy little “bee.”

Speaking of spelling nightmares, over on his blog, Scientist Sees Squirrel, Stephen Heard shares a delightful post: Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Latin Names. Among his tongue-twisting favorites:

• Weberbauerocereus cephalomacrostibas (“Weberbauer-uh-SEER-ee-us sef-ah-LO-mah-cros-tuh-bus”), a cactus; and
• Cryptodidymosphaerites princetonensis (“krip-toe-did-uh-mus-fuh-rye-tees princeton-EN-sis”), a fungus.

Stephen writes,

“These names mostly have one thing in common: they try to do way, way too much.

They try to mention a place, and the name of a related taxon, and a descriptive trait, and another descriptive trait, and then modify that … and then they keep on going.”

So whether you are spelling 'vegetable' at a bee or deciphering grandiloquent Latin species names, remember: the joy is in the trying, the journey, and perhaps, the curiosity of whether a Spelling Bee might spell it faster.