At the Scripps National Spelling Bee, elementary- and middle-school children compete to see who can correctly spell the gnarliest words in the English language, from aardvark to zabaglione. In the finals, to be held this week in Maryland, contestants listen to an official pronouncer read a word, then have 90 seconds to spell it correctly. The way the pronouncer says the words offers no extra hints about their spelling – it’s (in simplified phonetic rendering) “o-TAK-thǝ-nǝs” or “get-uh-PAW,” and spellers must come up with autochthonous (winning word of 2004) and guetapens (2012).

Spellers can ask what part of speech the word is, and about its definition, alternate pronunciations, and language of origin. Knowing that autochthonous means “indigenous, native” and comes from Greek might be enough of a hint for the speller to guess that the word’s root is khthon, ancient Greek for “earth” and that it’s related to and spelled like chthonic, “of the underworld.” The fact that guetapens (“a trick, snare”) comes from French, on the other hand, seems less helpful, as it doesn’t – to me, at any rate – look much like other French words. It’s a combination of the verb guetter (to lie in wait, watch intently) and penser (to think). Snigdha Nandipati called it a “miracle” when that word turned up as her final word at the 2012 bee, since she had seen it before. Or perhaps it was just hard work – she had been studying six hours a day during the week and 10 on weekends.

Around 60% of words in bees from 1996 to 2014, according to one study, derive from Latin and French, about the same proportion as in English as a whole. But the “Words of the Champions” list used in the early rounds of the competition includes words that entered English from a wide variety of languages, such as zaibatsu (a huge conglomerate company) from Japanese, haupia (a coconut pudding) from Hawaiian, or harmattan (a dusty African wind) from Twi. Another study says Latinate words trip up spellers most often – not surprising, since Latin is the source for much of our technical language and elevated diction.

Around 25% of English words are Germanic, but they’re more fundamental: meat, not meringue. 

In 2019, eight students could not be tripped up – not by Latin (cernuous: drooping), Greek (erysipelas: a type of disease), or French (aiguillette: a military shoulder cord) – and the bee ended in an eight-way tie. If things drag on this year, it will end with a spell-off in which competitors get 90 seconds to spell as many words as possible.  Or the pronouncer could just try “ǝ-ka-mä-dāt” – I, for one, get that wrong every time.