It’s Friday morning in a packed theatre hall in Sydney – and despite the hundreds of teachers, families and students, you could hear a pin drop.
Two students, aged nine and 10, sit on a brightly lit stage. One of them points finger guns in the air. Another, 10-year-old Finn McGhee, cannot stop clutching his face. “Oh my God,” he moans.
After three hours and 10 rounds of the New South Wales Premier’s Spelling Bee in Penrith, it’s all come down to this. Around them are empty chairs where their other competitors once sat.
It’s been a long road to get here: a record 200,000 students from about 1,000 public schools participated in the qualifiers.
The day started at 9am with 32 finalists from years two, three and four, including last year’s junior division winner, Wafiq Ayyash from New Lambton Public School, back to defend his title after taking 2024’s crown with the word “treachery”.
The format is relatively simple. Contestants begin with “seen” words that they’ve been able to practise at home, before facing “unseen” words testing their broader skills and composure. Each round is sudden death.
To kick off, each student is introduced to the crowd by the host, ABC presenter Toni Matthews, with colourful descriptors. Anika Bhattacharyya “likes the colour black but not the colour pink” and hopes to become a doctor or an architect “so she can earn lots of money”.
Jack Primmer, a year two student, “admires his best friend Ewan because he can type very quickly”. His favourite foods are “pizza, pasta, tacos and treats that aren’t caramel flavoured”.
Twelve students are knocked out in the first three rounds, and many more ask if they can use the toilet after they spell their words. There are some stumbling blocks: an unlucky student incorrectly hears the word “corps” as “core”. Meanwhile, another somehow succeeds at spelling “pachyderm” (a very large mammal with a thick skin).
Round four is a curly one, with five of the 20 remaining knocked out.
Then there’s an extraordinary intervention.
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Sukaina Kazmi, nine, had been dismissed for incorrectly spelling “gaudy”, with a T rather than a G. But there was some confusion over her pronunciation, and after consultation, the judges decide to present her with another word. If she gets it correct, she’s not out.
Matthews calls out “tuition”, which the Chester Hill Public School student spells effortlessly. Her delight is palpable.
By the end of round six, just 10 participants remain. Wafiq, last year’s winner, confuses “besiege” with “beseech” and goes down.
It’s almost 11.30am by the time round seven comes to a close. The finalists haven’t had a break, bar trips to the toilet. They sip at their water bottles, maintaining a laser-like focus.
A further two competitors fall in the following round, misspelling “innuendo” and “optician”. Narellan Vale Public School’s Finn, his nerves palpable, breathes a sigh of relief after correctly spelling “oxygen”. Sukaina perfectly spells “inundate” and lets out an audible gasp.
With eight people still in the game, the crowd starts to shift in their seats. Will this ever actually end? How long without food or light until the children start to collapse?
But the next round proves to be insurmountable to most. By its conclusion, just three students remain, including Sukaina who mouths “oh my God” after passing with “preferential”, Austin Chen, of Croydon Public School, who spells “oxymoron” and Finn who spells “statuesque”.
Sukaina goes on to correctly spell “geriatric”, waving her hands above her head with a beam. Austin drops out with “commissioner”. It’s all down to Finn. If he fails, Sukaina will win. He walks to the microphone, his hands in prayer, and nails it.
“This is a spell off!” Matthews calls.
In round 10, both Sukaina and Finn correctly spell their words, and the atmosphere is electric.
Then things go downhill. Neither get their words right in rounds 11, 12 and 13. But they’re dealt some tricky ones – you try spelling “euphemism” or “cynicism” at home.
Sukaina falls over “sabbatical” in round 14, opting for an R where a B should be. The crowd is again wondering if the children will collapse of exhaustion before a winner is declared.
Then Finn is given “subcutaneous”, a medical term meaning “under the skin”. He takes his time, sounding it out, and the judges nod. “Correct,” Matthews booms.
The crowd erupts into cheers. A trophy is brought out, and Finn waves it in the air, victorious and free.
Sukaina gets a medal, to the delight of her family. After the ceremony, she says she wished she received “subcutaneous” instead of “sabbatical”.
“I was like ‘oh, is this real’,” Sukaina says of being one of the final two. “I just thought of [the words as being on] an imaginary piece of paper in my mind, and spelled them out.”
“I was scared!” her mother, Sadaf Kazmi, says. “When I walked in, I was like, ‘oh my God, if someone made me stand here and say the words I wouldn’t be able to’.
“Sukaina is usually shy, but not in competitions like this. In one [spelling bee], she was literally dancing.”
For Finn’s mum, Bina Bhattacharya, the competition reflected “the face of our country”. Both Kazmi and her son are from south-west Sydney, and multicultural households.
“I came today thinking whatever happens, he’s a winner. We’re going to have a Maccas lunch if you win, or a Maccas lunch if you lose,” she says. “And then before I knew it, we’re down to the wire.”
Finn says he was confident – up until facing the word “oxygen”. “And then I was like, ‘what the heck is this’,” he says. “I was really nervous, I was like ‘can I please get this word right, I want it to be over’.”
As for his next goal? McGhee wants to be an author. He’s working on a book with his friend about a kid who’s attempting to defeat a Jabberwocky. Until then, he’s got a Happy Meal to look forward to.
