The following blog entry was written by Sarah Chassé, a copy editor of READ, Writing, and a whole bunch of other Weekly Reader magazines.

I am a passionate fan of the Scripps National Spelling Bee. I stumbled upon it while channel surfing a few years ago, and I've been hooked ever since. But each spring, as I gear up to watch the finals on TV, eager for a new spelling champ to be crowned, my friends and family look at me like I'm a little crazy. They say: What's so great about a SPELLING bee? And why would I want to watch one live on television? Well, here are three good reasons:

(1) If you're a word nerd, this is your Super Bowl. Learn some fun, truly bizarre words (appoggiatura! succedaneum!chiaroscurist!) that you can toss into your next essay to wow your teacher.
(2) Ding! That's the sound no speller wants to hear; it means he or she has spelled a word wrong and is out of the running to win. But for spectators safely in the audience, waiting for the bell creates big-time suspense! (Although, because the word is spelled correctly on the bottom of your TV screen, you know before the speller does whether it's right. That can be kind of painful to watch.)
(3) You never know what kind of wacky antics you'll see at the bee. Take 1997's finals, when winner Rebecca Sealfon was so excited that she pumped her arms in the air while shouting each letter to her final word (euonym):
 
Or 2006, when Akshay Buddiga was so nervous he fainted at the microphone, but still managed to spell his word alopecoid and advance to the next round!
 
Are you convinced? If so, check out the 2008 Scripps National Spelling Bee Championship Finals tonight at 8 p.m. ET on ABC!

by Catherine Sinks

His unknown age
   a dark square house
      a couple of feet away
a white home waits
   far off in the distance
      divine thoughts run through his head

His face caught
   with a blank stare
His shadow 
   more than a shadow
His eyes 
      obscured

I can't even remember
the color of his eyes

His hands
closed

But they were
   always open to me.

Congratulations to Catherine. She was a runner-up in Writing magazine's Treasured Objects Contest. Students wrote about their favorite things in such insightful and powerful ways. Check back for the next two weeks to see more runners-up.

by Louis Varriano

Forever waiting
Never knowing Time
As it lies in its black coffin
On the dusty old shelf
Completely forgotten
And without any life

Until I feel
The occasion is right
To take it down
Open its case
And give it a voice
That cries out
To the world
And reaches the soul
In the deepest of places
And all time seems to freeze
As my ears begin to hear
The pure sounds of music
That emanate from the instrustment in my hands

It sings of the happy
And weeps for the sad
As my fingers fly
Up and down its shiny silver back
As I blow a breath of life
Into my once dead and soulless clarinet.

It is not I but it
Who grieves and babbles
And squeaks and roars
And answers and sings
And wails and REACHES us.

My finges stumble,
I no longer know the way
My clarinet's song and life are over
I clean it out with a quiet reverence
And let it sleep eternally in its cozy bed
As it waits forever
Knowing no time
Until another comes
To give it the breath of life
So that it may sing again.

Congratulations to Louis. He was a runner-up in Writing magazine's Treasured Objects Contest. Students wrote about their favorite things in such insightful and powerful ways. Check back for the next two weeks to see more runners-up.

by Daniel Valdez

On a sun-striped beach,
waves hit the bank,
making their harmonius music.
Lasting chords of concord
the presence of serenity,
seagulls sang tunes in the distance
while the creatures of the sea quietly listened below.

I felt the sand beneath my world
walking on a trace of infinite dust,
a cushion of lost and wondering clouds.
The sea breeze blew softly,
holding my cheeks lightly,
I soar away with them into
the sky, a golden feast
of Apollo's magic and strength.

The ocean was a blur of sun
rapid movements of hushed furies.
That is when I spotted it,
a reddish-pink frozen shower of color
curves and contours of perfection:
the seashell, a product of my beloved sea,
always reminding me
of time well-spent on the beach.

Congratulations to Daniel. He was a runner-up in Writing magazine's Treasured Objects Contest. Students wrote about their favorite things in such insightful and powerful ways. Check back for the next two weeks to see more runners-up.

by Jasmeet Brar

Dolphins riding the waves,
deep indigo waves, a scene caught in time
perched atop this little box
a personal haven in a boisterous world.

A fragile little trinket that says,

"Come share with me, friend."
Soft, pudgy hands wrap around this
small blue box which is more than a box.

The welcoming air whirling around this
holder of thoughts, of secrets, of dreams.
Sparkling squares throw colors in the light.
My big, brown eyes follow each carefully sculpted contour.

Sitting on a nighstand as the
sun and moon take turns filling their posts
in the sky many times over,
this little box longs to be opened
as the tulips longs for morning so it can blossom.

But now, moonbeams
shine on this little blue box and long to
mingle with the secrets within.

Congratulations to Jasmeet. She was a runner-up in Writing magazine's Treasured Objects Contest. Students wrote about their favorite things in such insightful and powerful ways. Check back for the next two weeks to see more runners-up.