Post by Charity on May 29, 2005 21:51:31 GMT -5
11-year-old makes third try at National Spelling Bee
BY SARAH BAHARI
Knight Ridder Newspapers
COLLEYVILLE, Texas - (KRT) - Samir Patel rocks back and forth, his legs tucked underneath him.
His mother sits at a computer desk, firing off words from a list. Osteodystrophy. Opprobrium. Antemortem.
Samir fires back, quickly spelling each word. He does not miss one. Maybe, he thinks, he will be so lucky next week.
Spelling used to be fun, Samir says during a break, but now it is hard work. He and his mom, Jyoti, spend at least a couple of hours practicing each day, hoping it will pay off.
Trophies and plaques crowd the fireplace mantel in his family's comfortable ranch-style house in Colleyville, north of Fort Worth.
"There's only one missing, isn't there, Samir?" Jyoti says one afternoon, her voice quiet and sincere.
Yes, Samir agrees.
Everyone - even Samir, even his mom - wonders the same thing.
Will this be his year?
Samir became an instant spelling-bee star.
Crowds adored him. Strangers introduced themselves.
Folks on the Washington, D.C. Metro commuter rail line recognized him. Teen-agers mobbed him as he walked through the Smithsonian Institution.
Girls shoved their purses at him and demanded his autograph. Boys shook his hand. They were tall, and Samir could not see over their heads. He was short for his age. Still is.
People called him the whiz kid, the brain, the spelling prodigy.
He was 9 at the time and confused by the fuss. He was, after all, just a home-schooled boy from Texas.
It was 2003, and Samir captivated audiences at the Scripps Howard National Spelling Bee. He was one of the youngest, smallest and most animated competitors.
As he prepared to spell a word, he would squint, contort his face, roll his eyes and loudly sigh. When he got it right, he sometimes dropped to his knees and threw his arms into the air.
"You are kidding me! You are kidding me!" he shouted to judges after learning he spelled the word "yamamai" - a Japanese silkworm - correctly.
Hollywood producers took notice.
They asked him to serve as a "lifeline" on Fox's "The Great American Celebrity Spelling Bee," which aired three episodes in early 2004. Celebrity contestants, including rocker Alice Cooper and former Baywatch star Gena Lee Nolin, could call on Samir for help.
To say the least, he did not hold back. And it worked.
He came out of nowhere that year and sailed into third place, beating dozens of 13- and 14-year-olds.
The audience gave him a standing ovation.
And Samir promised he would be back.
People are sometimes surprised how ordinary - and extraordinary - Samir is.
Words tumble out of his mouth so quickly that adults sometimes struggle just to keep up. His hands fly when he talks, and his vocabulary might lead you to believe he is actually a very short college freshman.
"My son does not want for words, does he?" Jyoti jokes.
But he is 11 years old. Video games are big. He devours Harry Potter books, shoots baskets in the driveway, throws the football around and invents elaborate games using sticks he finds in the back yard.
One day, he swears, he will own the Dallas Cowboys.
"I used to want to play football," he says, standing up. "But look at me. I am way too short to play in the pros." He is a little over 4-foot-8.
Most who meet him assume he will become an engineer or a scientist, perhaps a doctor. He has not chosen a career but has said he would like to get seven Ph.D.s.
"I just don't want to be stuck in a job I hate for 40 years," he says.
Charles thingyens is among his favorite authors. He religiously reads U.S. News & World Report and enjoys listening to conservative radio personality Sean Hannity.
His bedroom is impossibly neat. Clothes are on hangers, not the floor. Shoes are lined up. Books are stacked perfectly.
It is not always this way, Jyoti says.
Under his bed, he keeps two pieces of red paper with gold Chinese writing. A family friend gave them to him for good luck.
"I'm not really superstitious, and I don't know if it works," he explains. "But the worst that can happen is, it doesn't work. And if it does, I'll get the benefits."
Samir is competitive about almost everything. Tennis. Judo. Math. Easter egg hunts.
And spelling.
That explains his reaction in the 2004 regional spelling bee when he misspelled "orthognathous."
He threw up his hands and complained that the announcer had led him to spell the noun form of the word, not the adjective. (The noun is "orthognathism.") He ran offstage to his mother and asked her to lodge a protest.
Now, Samir acknowledges that he rushed through the word and should have taken his time. He still won the bee after his competitor misspelled a word.
If it happened again, Samir says, he would probably react much more calmly. "I was just so scared," he recalls.
"But it won't happen again," he adds quickly.
He learned his lesson.
The only child of Indian immigrants, Samir has grown up on a quiet street in old Colleyville, where trees outnumber homes.
If his parents ever tried to move, Samir threatens, he would sabotage their luggage and steal the keys.
Jyoti, who was an electrical engineer, home-schools Samir and is his spelling coach.
They work together at the kitchen table or in the computer room. No TV. No background music. Just quiet.
Mother and son have grown comfortable with their routine. Both love to talk and bicker. They finish each other's sentences and hug often.
"Jyoti has maybe spent 11 hours on herself in the last 11 years," said Nita Mehta, a Fort Worth family friend who has a son Samir's age. "She has dedicated her life to Samir."
Sudhir, the dad, is the quiet one; he is also a mechanical engineer. These days, he does a lot of the grocery shopping and errand-running.
When he writes a quick letter or e-mail, he does not allow his son to stand behind him.
"He'll correct everything," Sudhir explains.
And though Jyoti prepares her son for spelling bees, Sudhir takes over once they arrive. "My mom makes me too nervous," Samir says.
When Samir takes the stage, nervously awaiting his word, Jyoti cannot look at him.
She looks down, buries her face in her hands and closes her eyes. Then she prays.
Jyoti and Samir overpracticed last year.
Samir was frazzled by the time he got to the 2004 national spelling bee. He missed a word in the fifth round.
Hopes dashed, he wanted to give up. All those hours now seemed like such a waste. He was devastated. But Jyoti encouraged him to keep at it.
"In real life," she says, "just because you want something doesn't mean it will always come to you right away.
"You cannot give up if you want it."
Samir decided to give it another try and will compete again for the title. The bee begins Sunday.
This year, they have cut back on practice, tried to relax a little and take things in stride.
Winning is important to Samir, but it isn't everything.
Friends have noticed the change.
"Samir is poised and ready," said Beckie Munsell, a fellow Colleyville home-schooler. "He's more confident and more compassionate than he was a couple years ago."
Samir has pondered retiring after this year, regardless of the outcome.
But, he says, he will probably keep at it until he wins or gets too old.
And who knows, this just might be his year.
www.homeschoolbuzz.com/news.html?link=http://www.fortwayne.com/mld/newssentinel/living/11752820.htm
BY SARAH BAHARI
Knight Ridder Newspapers
COLLEYVILLE, Texas - (KRT) - Samir Patel rocks back and forth, his legs tucked underneath him.
His mother sits at a computer desk, firing off words from a list. Osteodystrophy. Opprobrium. Antemortem.
Samir fires back, quickly spelling each word. He does not miss one. Maybe, he thinks, he will be so lucky next week.
Spelling used to be fun, Samir says during a break, but now it is hard work. He and his mom, Jyoti, spend at least a couple of hours practicing each day, hoping it will pay off.
Trophies and plaques crowd the fireplace mantel in his family's comfortable ranch-style house in Colleyville, north of Fort Worth.
"There's only one missing, isn't there, Samir?" Jyoti says one afternoon, her voice quiet and sincere.
Yes, Samir agrees.
Everyone - even Samir, even his mom - wonders the same thing.
Will this be his year?
Samir became an instant spelling-bee star.
Crowds adored him. Strangers introduced themselves.
Folks on the Washington, D.C. Metro commuter rail line recognized him. Teen-agers mobbed him as he walked through the Smithsonian Institution.
Girls shoved their purses at him and demanded his autograph. Boys shook his hand. They were tall, and Samir could not see over their heads. He was short for his age. Still is.
People called him the whiz kid, the brain, the spelling prodigy.
He was 9 at the time and confused by the fuss. He was, after all, just a home-schooled boy from Texas.
It was 2003, and Samir captivated audiences at the Scripps Howard National Spelling Bee. He was one of the youngest, smallest and most animated competitors.
As he prepared to spell a word, he would squint, contort his face, roll his eyes and loudly sigh. When he got it right, he sometimes dropped to his knees and threw his arms into the air.
"You are kidding me! You are kidding me!" he shouted to judges after learning he spelled the word "yamamai" - a Japanese silkworm - correctly.
Hollywood producers took notice.
They asked him to serve as a "lifeline" on Fox's "The Great American Celebrity Spelling Bee," which aired three episodes in early 2004. Celebrity contestants, including rocker Alice Cooper and former Baywatch star Gena Lee Nolin, could call on Samir for help.
To say the least, he did not hold back. And it worked.
He came out of nowhere that year and sailed into third place, beating dozens of 13- and 14-year-olds.
The audience gave him a standing ovation.
And Samir promised he would be back.
People are sometimes surprised how ordinary - and extraordinary - Samir is.
Words tumble out of his mouth so quickly that adults sometimes struggle just to keep up. His hands fly when he talks, and his vocabulary might lead you to believe he is actually a very short college freshman.
"My son does not want for words, does he?" Jyoti jokes.
But he is 11 years old. Video games are big. He devours Harry Potter books, shoots baskets in the driveway, throws the football around and invents elaborate games using sticks he finds in the back yard.
One day, he swears, he will own the Dallas Cowboys.
"I used to want to play football," he says, standing up. "But look at me. I am way too short to play in the pros." He is a little over 4-foot-8.
Most who meet him assume he will become an engineer or a scientist, perhaps a doctor. He has not chosen a career but has said he would like to get seven Ph.D.s.
"I just don't want to be stuck in a job I hate for 40 years," he says.
Charles thingyens is among his favorite authors. He religiously reads U.S. News & World Report and enjoys listening to conservative radio personality Sean Hannity.
His bedroom is impossibly neat. Clothes are on hangers, not the floor. Shoes are lined up. Books are stacked perfectly.
It is not always this way, Jyoti says.
Under his bed, he keeps two pieces of red paper with gold Chinese writing. A family friend gave them to him for good luck.
"I'm not really superstitious, and I don't know if it works," he explains. "But the worst that can happen is, it doesn't work. And if it does, I'll get the benefits."
Samir is competitive about almost everything. Tennis. Judo. Math. Easter egg hunts.
And spelling.
That explains his reaction in the 2004 regional spelling bee when he misspelled "orthognathous."
He threw up his hands and complained that the announcer had led him to spell the noun form of the word, not the adjective. (The noun is "orthognathism.") He ran offstage to his mother and asked her to lodge a protest.
Now, Samir acknowledges that he rushed through the word and should have taken his time. He still won the bee after his competitor misspelled a word.
If it happened again, Samir says, he would probably react much more calmly. "I was just so scared," he recalls.
"But it won't happen again," he adds quickly.
He learned his lesson.
The only child of Indian immigrants, Samir has grown up on a quiet street in old Colleyville, where trees outnumber homes.
If his parents ever tried to move, Samir threatens, he would sabotage their luggage and steal the keys.
Jyoti, who was an electrical engineer, home-schools Samir and is his spelling coach.
They work together at the kitchen table or in the computer room. No TV. No background music. Just quiet.
Mother and son have grown comfortable with their routine. Both love to talk and bicker. They finish each other's sentences and hug often.
"Jyoti has maybe spent 11 hours on herself in the last 11 years," said Nita Mehta, a Fort Worth family friend who has a son Samir's age. "She has dedicated her life to Samir."
Sudhir, the dad, is the quiet one; he is also a mechanical engineer. These days, he does a lot of the grocery shopping and errand-running.
When he writes a quick letter or e-mail, he does not allow his son to stand behind him.
"He'll correct everything," Sudhir explains.
And though Jyoti prepares her son for spelling bees, Sudhir takes over once they arrive. "My mom makes me too nervous," Samir says.
When Samir takes the stage, nervously awaiting his word, Jyoti cannot look at him.
She looks down, buries her face in her hands and closes her eyes. Then she prays.
Jyoti and Samir overpracticed last year.
Samir was frazzled by the time he got to the 2004 national spelling bee. He missed a word in the fifth round.
Hopes dashed, he wanted to give up. All those hours now seemed like such a waste. He was devastated. But Jyoti encouraged him to keep at it.
"In real life," she says, "just because you want something doesn't mean it will always come to you right away.
"You cannot give up if you want it."
Samir decided to give it another try and will compete again for the title. The bee begins Sunday.
This year, they have cut back on practice, tried to relax a little and take things in stride.
Winning is important to Samir, but it isn't everything.
Friends have noticed the change.
"Samir is poised and ready," said Beckie Munsell, a fellow Colleyville home-schooler. "He's more confident and more compassionate than he was a couple years ago."
Samir has pondered retiring after this year, regardless of the outcome.
But, he says, he will probably keep at it until he wins or gets too old.
And who knows, this just might be his year.
www.homeschoolbuzz.com/news.html?link=http://www.fortwayne.com/mld/newssentinel/living/11752820.htm