Frances Grant: How to spell ennui

For those of us who experienced stern, old-fashioned primary schooling, Sunday night's final of the The Great New Zealand Spelling Bee was like watching paint dry.

Where was the terror, the shaking, stumbling and sweating that should accompany tests of how well a person can spell the unphonetic English language?

My old Standard 4 colleagues and I could have shown the makers a thing or two about putting the screws on. Mark Leishman could have taken a leaf out of the pedagogical manual of classroom terrorist Sister John de Boot (not her real name) who liked to haul victims out in front of the room for a spot of reading, spelling, solo singing or particularly horrific - nasty long division sums to be worked out on the blackboard.

Little did we know then that one day our great civilisation would make prime-time Sunday evening reality television shows out of such mundane torments.

No, The Great New Zealand Spelling Bee was disappointingly short of the atrocities which could have made it sizzle - Sr de Boot used to thump non-performers on the back in the misguided belief this would make the brain engage, just as we're tempted these days to hit the PC when it freezes.

But this didn't stop one of the celebrity contestants, Wendyl Nissen, snivelling about being nervous when she had to spell something not very taxing, like "pharoah", whoops we mean "pharaoh".

Peter Elliott started what looked like the night's best, dyslexic bloomer, spelling pterodactyl "pteady-" but pulled up in time to start again. Helen Medlyn, meanwhile, seemed to think she was in a gurning rather than a spelling competition. Representative "politics star" Peter Dunne stumbled over "taramasalata", which might be of concern to his Greek constituents. Curiously, the blokes seemed better at backwards spelling than the right way round. And there the entertainment ceased.

The night's only small thrill of irony was that semifinalist Raybon Kan got buried on the word "mausoleum". Kan was denied the title of the country's most literate celebrity by telly presenter and Radio NZ host Jim Arom, sorry Mora.

Some others who could have helped Leishman up the fear factor were James and Judy, featured in Monday night's TV One documentary on adult illiteracy Trouble with Words. Trouble, it turned out, was putting it mildly.

From both we had a real insight into the torment of not being able to read in a world where words are everywhere and writing and reading are needed in nearly every facet of life; of feeling like a failure; and the courage it took to overcome years of shame spent trying to cover this up.

It took bravery, too, to share their stories on television. Thirty-five years later, James was reduced to tears by a visit to his primary-school classroom and the anguish suffered over feeling he was stupid.

The documentary could have done with fewer of the dramatic re-enactments and effects such as words swirling across pages and more hard facts about different types of reading difficulties and their causes.

In the end credits the programme thanked Judy and James for their courage and generosity. What was remarkable was how they have overcome the tremendous blows suffered to their self-esteem and forced themselves back into the classroom.

We followed Judy as she chaired a formal meeting for the first time - lists of names, minutes - and James as he put himself through a gruelling five-hour fireman's exam. Forget the celebrities, here was some real inspiration about tackling the written word.